The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East: Volume I: From the Beginnings to Old Kingdom Egypt and the Dynasty of Akkad 0190687851, 9780190687854

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Editors: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts This groundbreaking, five-volume series offers a comprehensive, fully illustrated history of Egypt and Western Asia (the Levant, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and Iran), from the emergence of complex states to the conquest of Alexander the Great. Written by a highly diverse, international team of leading scholars, whose expertise brings to life the people, places, and times of the remote past, the volumes in this series focus firmly on the political and social histories of the states and communities of the ancient Near East. Individual chapters present the key textual and material sources underpinning the historical reconstruction, paying particular attention to the most recent archaeological finds and their impact on our historical understanding of the periods surveyed.

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Volume 1: From the Beginnings to Old Kingdom Egypt and the Dynasty of Akkad

z Edited by KAREN RADNER NADINE MOELLER D. T. POTTS

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1 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2020 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Radner, Karen, editor, author. | Moeller, Nadine, editor, author. | Potts, Daniel T., editor, author. Title: The Oxford history of the ancient Near East / edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and Daniel T. Potts. Description: New York : Oxford University Press, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Contents: Volume 1. From the beginnings to Old Kingdom Egypt and the dynasty of Akkad Identifiers: LCCN 2020002854 | ISBN 9780190687854 (v. 1: hardback) | ISBN 9780190687878 (v. 1: epub) | ISBN 9780197521014 (v. 1: online) Subjects: LCSH: Egypt—Civilization. | Egypt—Antiquities. | Egypt—History—Sources. | Middle East—Civilization. | Middle East—Antiquities. | Middle East—History—Sources. Classification: LCC DT60 .O97 2020 | DDC 939.4—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020002854 1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America

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Contents

Preface 

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The Contributors 

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Abbreviations 

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Introducing the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East (Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts) 

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1. Prehistoric Western Asia (Peter M. M. G. Akkermans) 

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2. Prehistoric Egypt (E. Christiana Köhler) 

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3. The Uruk Phenomenon (Gebhard J. Selz) 

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4. Early Dynastic Egypt (Laurel Bestock) 

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5. Egypt’s Old Kingdom: A View from Within (Miroslav Bárta)  316 6. Egypt’s Old Kingdom in Contact with the World (Pierre Tallet) 

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7. Egypt’s Old Kingdom: Perspectives on Culture and Society (Richard Bussmann) 

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8. The Early Dynastic Near East (Vitali Bartash) 

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9. The Kingdom of Akkad: A View from Within (Ingo Schrakamp) 

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10. The Kingdom of Akkad in Contact with the World (Piotr Michalowski) 

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Index 

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Preface

This is the first volume of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East; four more volumes of similar length will follow over the course of the next few years. The five volumes will cover the long period from the first settled communities in Western Asia and Egypt to the conquests of Alexander of Macedon (d. 323 bc), but with a particular focus on the three millennia starting in the late fourth millennium bc, when the emergence of the first complex states profoundly changed human societies and cultural norms across the region. In deciding on the cutoff point for the first volume, we had to take into account the physical constraints of bookbinding as well as the expectations of the readers. On balance, matching the Old Kingdom of Egypt with the much shorter-​lived Akkad state and using the detailed discussion of these influential pathfinder polities as the endpoint of the first volume’s narrative is satisfactory for logistical as well as conceptual and intellectual reasons. The absolute and relative chronology of the third millennium bc is still not securely anchored, so we must leave it to future generations of scholars to establish whether we should have included Egypt’s First Intermediate period or the kingdom of the Third Dynasty of Ur in this volume after all or were justified in reserving those chapters for the second volume. The chart on pp. x–xi presents a concise overview of the chronological coverage of the present volume. Because the chronology is so uncertain, we have asked our authors to use a bare minimum of absolute dates. When such information is mentioned, it is for the reader’s general orientation only and should certainly not be understood as the passionate endorsement of a specific

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chronology (High, Middle, Low, Ultra Low). Volume 2, in which we are on safer although still highly contested ground, will start off with a chapter discussing the reconstruction of the absolute chronology of the first half of the second millennium BC. This will address the challenges in correlating vastly different sources such as radiocarbon-​dated organic materials, tree rings, and astronomical information contained in ancient texts. In transcribing Egyptian proper nouns, we follow the conventions of The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Ian Shaw (rev. ed., Oxford University Press, 2004). We do not use hyphenation to separate the components of Sumerian personal names (e.g., Amargirid instead of Amar-​ girid), but we follow normal practice in marking the individual words within Akkadian proper nouns (e.g., Naram-​Sin instead of Naramsin, Dur-​Akkad instead of Durakkad). This should allow the interested reader to distinguish between Sumerian and Akkadian names, which very often occur side by side in Mesopotamian contexts from at least the mid-​third millennium bc onward. We do not use any long vowels in proper nouns, including modern Arabic and Farsi place names. The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East is the brainchild of Stefan Vranka at OUP New  York, who first suggested this ambitious publication project to us in 2015. Although the three editors are based on two continents and in three different time zones, we worked very closely with each other. This was greatly facilitated by the fellowships awarded by the Center for Advanced Studies of LMU Munich (CASLMU) to Nadine Moeller and Dan Potts, which allowed us to work together in Munich in July 2016, 2017, and 2018 while drafting the book proposal, recruiting authors, and fine-​tuning our editorial processes. We have also had the chance to meet up in various constellations in Chicago, Penjwin (Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq), and Pouillon (Pays Chalosse, France) while finalizing this first volume of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. We are very grateful to the illustrious group of scholars, a mix of leading experts and bright new talents from all over the world, who graciously agreed to write the ten chapters that make up this first volume, covering the period from the beginnings to Old Kingdom Egypt and the

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Preface

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dynasty of Akkad. Draft manuscripts were received between April 2018 and June 2019. At LMU Munich, we are greatly indebted to Denise Bolton, who language-​edited several chapters; to Dr. Andrea Squitieri, who created all maps on the basis of lists of place names provided by the chapter authors; to Thomas Seidler, who consolidated the chapter bibliographies; and to Philipp Seyr, who harmonized the Egyptian names and spellings across the volume. Their good services were funded by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation via the International Award for Research in Germany 2015 to Karen Radner. We are very grateful for their patience, speed, and attention to detail. The cover of this volume shows, together with its modern impression on a strip of clay, the silver cylinder seal bearing the name and titles of the Egyptian ruler Sahura (Dynasty 5), which is today housed in the collection of the Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland (accession number 57.1748). It is the first of five cylinder seals from different parts of the Near East that we have chosen for the covers of the individual volumes of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. To us, not only are these seals beautiful and meaningful objects, each in its own right, but as a group they serve to epitomize the region’s great cultural variations and commonalities.

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Table 0.1. Chronological chart. Egypt 6000 bc 5000 bc

4000 bc

3000 bc

Predynastic period (5000–​3000 bc) Lower Egypt Neolithic 5000–​4000 bc Maadi Cultural Complex 4000–​3200 bc

Upper Egypt Badarian period 4400–​4000 bc Naqada I 4000–​3500 bc Naqada II 3500–​3000 bc

Naqada III 3200–​3000 bc Early Dynastic period (3000–​2700 bc) Dynasty 1 Aha Djer Den Queen Merneith Anedjib Semerkhet Qa‘a Dynasty 2 Hetepsekhemwy Raneb Peribsen Khasekhemwy

Mesopotamia

Syria Halaf culture (6000–​5300 bc) Ubaid period (5300–​3800 bc)

Iraq Ubaid period (6000–​3800 bc)

–​–​–​–​ Uruk period –​–​–​–​ (3800–​3300 bc)

Early Jezirah period (3000–​2300 bc) Ebla Mari

Lagaš

Jamdat Nasr (3300–​3000 bc) Early Dynastic period (3000–​2300 bc) Uruk Ur

Kiš

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2700 bc

2500 bc

2400 bc

2300 bc

Old Kingdom (2700–​2100 bc) Dynasty 3 Nebka Djoser (Netjerikhet) Sekhemkhet Khaba Huni Dynasty 4 Sneferu Khufu Radjedef Khafra Menkaura Shepseskaf Dynasty 5 Userkaf Sahura Neferirkara Shepseskare Raneferef Nyuserra Menkauhor ​ Djedkare Isesi Unas Dynasty 6 Teti Pepy I Meryra Merenra

2200 bc Pepy II

Meskalamdug Ur-​Nanše Ayakurgal

Igrišhalab Irkabdamu Išardamu

Iblulil

Mesilim

Eanatum Enmetena Erekagina

–​–​ Enšakušanna –​–​ –​–​ Lugalzagesi –​–​

Akkad Sargon Rimuš Maništusu Naram-Sin Šar-kali-šarri

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The Contributors

Peter M. M. G. Akkermans (PhD, University of Amsterdam) is professor of Near Eastern archaeology at Leiden University. He is director of the Tell Sabi Abyad Project in Syria and the Jebel Qurma Archaeological Landscape Project in Jordan. Together with Glenn M. Schwartz, he published The Archaeology of Syria (Cambridge University Press, 2003). Miroslav Bárta (PhD, Charles University) is professor of Egyptology and director of the Czech Institute of Egyptology in Prague. He is directing archaeological projects on the Abusir pyramid field and in Usli (Sudan). In 2003 he pioneered detailed satellite research on the pyramid fields. His many publications include Satellite Atlas of the Pyramid Fields (Dryada, 2006), Journey to the West: The World of the Old Kingdom Tombs in Ancient Egypt (Charles University, 2011), and Analysing Collapse: The Rise and Fall of the Old Kingdom (AUC Press, 2019). Vitali Bartash (PhD, University of Frankfurt) is a visiting scholar at the University of California at Berkeley. His books include two editions of early Sumerian archives (2013, 2017)  and the monograph Establishing Value: Weight Measures in Early Mesopotamia (De Gruyter, 2019). His research focuses on the socioeconomic history of the Early Bronze Age Middle East, in particular age groups (children), kinship, labor, and mobility. Laurel Bestock (PhD, Institute of Fine Arts, New York University) is associate professor of archaeology and Egyptology at Brown University. She directed excavations focused on Early Dynastic royal monuments

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at Abydos (Egypt) and currently codirects an expedition at the Middle Kingdom fortress of Uronarti (Sudan). Her most recent book is Violence and Power in Ancient Egypt: Images and Ideology before the New Kingdom (Routledge, 2017). Richard Bussmann (PhD, Free University Berlin, 2007) is professor of Egyptology at the University of Cologne. His research interests focus on the social archaeology of Egypt, urbanism, and comparative approaches to early complex societies. He has written a book on community shrines in third millennium bc provincial Egypt (Brill, 2010) and a beginners’ textbook for Middle Egyptian, which adopts methods from modern language teaching (Hodder, 2017). He codirects a fieldwork project at Zawyet Sultan in Middle Egypt. E. Christiana Köhler is professor of Egyptology at the University of Vienna and a leading specialist in Pre-​and Early Dynastic Egypt. After working at archaeological sites in the Middle East for over thirty years, including two decades at the Early Dynastic necropolis at Helwan, she is currently director of the University of Vienna Middle Egypt Project and leads excavations in the Early Dynastic royal cemetery at Abydos/​ Umm el-​Qaab in cooperation with the German Archaeological Institute in Cairo. Piotr Michalowski (PhD, Yale University) is George G.  Cameron Professor Emeritus of Ancient Near Eastern Studies at the University of Michigan. He is the author of numerous studies on literary, linguistic, historical, and historiographical aspects of ancient Mesopotamian cultures. His latest book is The Correspondence of the Kings of Ur: Epistolary History of an Ancient Mesopotamian Kingdom (Eisenbrauns, 2011). Nadine Moeller (PhD, University of Cambridge) is professor of Egyptian archaeology at Yale University. Her research focuses on ancient Egyptian urbanism, on which she has recently published a book, The Archaeology of Urbanism in Ancient Egypt (Cambridge University Press, 2016). She has participated in numerous fieldwork projects in Egypt; since 2001, she has been directing excavations at Tell Edfu in southern Egypt.

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D. T. Potts (PhD, Harvard University) is professor of ancient Near Eastern archaeology and history at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, New York University. A corresponding member of the German Archaeological Institute, he has worked in Iran, the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Armenia, and the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq. His numerous books include The Archaeology of Elam: Formation and Transformation of an Ancient Iranian State (2nd ed., Cambridge University Press, 2015)  and Nomadism in Iran:  From Antiquity to the Modern Era (Oxford University Press, 2014). Karen Radner (PhD, University of Vienna) holds the Alexander von Humboldt Chair of the Ancient History of the Near and Middle East at LMU Munich. A member of the German Archaeological Institute and the Bavarian Academy of Sciences and Humanities, her numerous books include Ancient Assyria: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2015), A Short History of Babylon (Bloomsbury, 2020) as well as editions of cuneiform archives from Iraq, Syria, and Turkey. Ingo Schrakamp (PhD, Philipps-​Universität Marburg 2010, Habilitation Freie Universtität Berlin 2018) is a Privatdozent in ancient Near Eastern studies at Freie Universität Berlin. His publications focus on cuneiform lexicography and the history of Mesopotamia in the late fourth and third millennia bc, especially on its chronology and geographical, military, and socioeconomic questions. Gebhard J. Selz is professor emeritus of ancient Near Eastern languages and archaeology at the University of Vienna. His main research interests belong to the cultural heritage of early Mesopotamia, especially the specifics of hermeneutical procedures. He has published numerous articles and books on the intellectual, religious, and economic history of this period, including the evolution of the cuneiform writing systems. The scope of his research is reflected by two recent edited collections: The Empirical Dimension of Ancient Near Eastern Studies (LIT Verlag, 2011, with Klaus Wagensonner) and It’s a Long Way to a Historiography of the Early Dynastic Period(s) (Ugarit-​Verlag, 2015, with Reinhard Dittmann).

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Pierre Tallet studied at the Ecole Normale Supérieure (Ulm) and the Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale in Cairo and now holds the chair of Egyptology at the Sorbonne (Paris). He has directed and codirected a range of field projects in Egypt and Sudan, including a South Sinai survey and the excavations of two Red Sea harbors. The author of several books on ancient Egypt, he is currently editing the papyri of Pharaoh Khufu found in Wadi el-​Jarf on the Gulf of Suez.

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Abbreviations

AA AAE AfO AJA ÄL AnSt AoF ASAE BA BACE BaM BASOR BIFAO BiOr BMSAES BSFE BSOAS CA CAJ CdE CDLB CDLJ CDLN CRAIBL CRIPEL

American Antiquity Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy Archiv für Orientforschung American Journal of Archaeology Ägypten & Levante Anatolian Studies Altorientalische Forschungen Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte Biblical Archaeologist Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology Baghdader Mitteilungen Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale Bibliotheca Orientalis British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan Bulletin de la Société Française d’Égyptologie Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Current Anthropology Cambridge Archaeological Journal Chronique d’Égypte Cuneiform Digital Library Bulletin Cuneiform Digital Library Journal Cuneiform Digital Library Notes Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-​Lettres Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Égyptologie de Lille

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xviii DE EAO GM HUCA IrAnt JAA JAOS JAR JARCE JAS JAS-​R JCS JEA JFA JMA JNES JRAS JWP MDAIK MDOG NABU NEA OJA OLZ PNAS PRS PSAS QI QSR RA RdE RlA RSO SAAB SAAC

Abbreviations Discussions in Egyptology Egypte, Afrique et Orient Göttinger Miszellen Hebrew Union College Annual Iranica Antiqua Journal of Anthropological Archaeology Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Archaeological Research Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt Journal of Archaeological Science Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of Egyptian Archaeology Journal of Field Archaeology Journal of Mediterranean Archeology Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Journal of World Prehistory Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-​Gesellschaft Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires Near Eastern Archaeology Oxford Journal of Archaeology Orientalistische Literaturzeitung Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences Proceedings of the Royal Society Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies Quaternary International Quaternary Science Reviews Revue d’Assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale Revue d’Égyptologie Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie Rivista degli studi orientali State Archives of Assyria Bulletin Studies in Ancient Art and Civilization

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Abbreviations SAK VDI WA WdO WZKM ZA ZÄS ZOrA

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Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur Vestnik Drevnej Istorii World Archaeology Die Welt des Orients Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Zeitschrift für Orient-​Archäologie

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Introducing the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts

The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East aims to become the standard source for anyone interested in the subject, much like the Cambridge Ancient History was for earlier generations of readers around the world. It is intended to serve as a reference work and the new backbone for teaching and researching the three millennia bc from the emergence of complex states to the eve of the conquests of Alexander of Macedon. Organized in five volumes and more than seventy chapters, it provides a comprehensive survey of the history of the ancient Near East, including Egypt, and contextualizes this core region in a wider geographical horizon that stretches from the headwaters of the Nile and the Aegean Sea to Central Asia and the Indus region. The field owes significant advances to recent archaeological discoveries and textual research, including on clay tablets, papyri, and rock inscriptions. The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East offers the reader a chronologically organized overview of the current state of scholarship, highlighting problems and priorities for current and future research. Each chapter presents primary evidence (material and if available, textual), emphasizing the impact of new finds on historical reconstruction Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Introducing the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0001.

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and interpretation. In a field that is deeply shaped by international collaboration, the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East seeks to avoid a monocultural perspective by bringing together authors rooted in a wide range of scholarly traditions and disciplinary backgrounds. They are not afraid to critique influential scholarly paradigms and, where appropriate, discuss twists and turns in the evolving history of scholarship. The individual chapters highlight political, social, and cultural changes and continuities and frame these in the environmental and technological contexts that unite and divide the various regions, cultures, societies, communities, and polities considered here. The latter serve as the basic principle of organization for the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, as from the late fourth millennium bc onward the region was characterized by the emergence, consolidation, and collapse of a multiplicity of competing complex states. The first volume also includes chapters that trace the long-​term prehistory of the region up to the cusp of the establishment of complex polities in Western Asia (­chapter 1) and Egypt (­chapter 2). Otherwise, however, the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East deliberately privileges the state as the focal point of the narrative. Chapters that place major states such as the kingdom of Akkad or Old Kingdom Egypt in the context of their interactions with the wider world provide a stepping stone toward creating more connected and transregional historical narratives.

I.1.  The scope of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East As used in the title of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, the term “ancient Near East” embraces an area comprised, in modern terms, of Western Asia and Northeast Africa. Although scholars, cartographers, and political organizations vary in their definitions of which countries fall under the rubric Western Asia, for our purposes it includes Cyprus, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Palestine and the Palestinian territories, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Oman, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Bahrain, Kuwait, Iraq, and Iran, while Northeast Africa comprises Egypt, Libya, and Sudan as well as regions in the Horn of Africa. For

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some periods, particularly in the first millennium bc, parts of the southern Caucasus (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia) are included as well, and for the Achaemenid period, the scope widens to also include parts of Central and South Asia. The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East is concerned explicitly with history and the written record, rather than the archaeology of nonliterate societies. As such, the inclusion or exclusion of any part of this region simply reflects the presence or absence of written sources. By and large these sources are indigenous; that is, they were written in the area discussed. In some cases (e.g., for Oman or parts of Iran), although written sources are lacking, an area may be referred to in texts produced elsewhere (e.g., ancient Oman is mentioned as Makkan in cuneiform sources from Iraq). As a result, one can sometimes sketch the history of an aliterate region, albeit imperfectly, by drawing on non-​local sources. Needless to say, this is far from ideal, but it accounts for the mention of some regions that lack written sources in a work that is explicitly historical. From the Bronze Age (from the late fourth to the late second millennium bc), only those areas that used one of the various cuneiform writing systems, the Egyptian scripts, and the “Luwian hieroglyphs” of Anatolia provide a historical record sensu stricto, although alphabetic evidence from epigraphic sources becomes available gradually; much more alphabetic material, representing a range of languages and including relatively separate traditions such as the Old South Arabian script of Yemen, appears in the subsequent Iron Age throughout the entire region.1 But a preference for degradable writing materials means that much of this documentation has only survived in the most arid environments and therefore has never rivaled the sheer mass of almost indestructible clay tablets available for modern research. Depending on precisely which countries are included, the area of Western Asia comfortably exceeds two million square miles, or just over five million square kilometers. It is bounded on the north by the Black Sea, the Caucasus mountains, and the Caspian Sea; on the south by

1. The contributions in Woods 2015 provide well-​illustrated introductions to most of these writing systems.

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the Persian Gulf, the Arabian Sea (or Gulf of Oman), and the Western Indian Ocean; on the east by the deserts (Dasht-​e Lut and Dasht-​e Kavir) and hills of the Indo-​Iranian borderlands; and on the west by the Mediterranean Sea. Northeast Africa is bounded by the Red Sea to the east; the Mediterranean to the north; the Sahara to the west, and sub-​Saharan Africa to the south. Including this region increases the area under discussion by another 50 percent. Not unexpectedly, this immense territory displays a staggering diversity of topographic features:  mountain ranges, deserts, steppes, oases, alluvial environments, valleys, and plains. These are characterized by enormous climatic variability and biodiversity as well as highly irregular distribution of mineral and other natural resources.2 Major and minor river systems, lakes, and seas punctuate the landscape, offering opportunities for subsistence, irrigation, and navigation. Some nation-​states in Western Asia and Northeast Africa have names of considerable antiquity (e.g., Iran, Lebanon), while others are recent creations (e.g., Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates). Be that as it may, none of these names occurs in the earliest written sources from the late fourth millennium bc. Importantly, many of the geographic concepts that are today taken for granted have no equivalent in the ancient languages of the region. Thus the term “Mesopotamia” is a Greek concept that sees the region “between the rivers” Euphrates and Tigris as a unit. This may accurately reflect the situation for much of the first millennium bc, when the region was under the control of a series of major powers (Assyria, Babylonia, and Persia) that increasingly merged it into one political space—​especially in the perception of outsiders. But prior to the eighth century bc, this concept of one, united region had little relevance to political reality. When we use the name Mesopotamia in the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, we do so to describe a broad cultural sphere with many locally distinctive characteristics and differences and frequently changing political constellations. The same applies to names such as Anatolia (from Greek “East”) and Levant (from Latin

2. On raw materials see Moorey 1994 for Western Asia and Nicholson and Shaw 2000 for Egypt.

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“Land of the Rising Sun,” encompassing Palestine, Israel, Lebanon, and the coastal regions of Syria). Ancient sources are replete with place names every bit as diverse as our own today, ranging from overarching names given to large regions to those of individual polities, cities, villages, mountain ranges, rivers, lakes, and seas. When cities and states appear in the chapters that follow, ancient names, whenever available, are generally used in preference to modern ones. On the other hand, archaeological sites that have not been conclusively identified with an ancient toponym are necessarily referred to by their modern names; on our maps, these names are italicized. For the sake of clarity, we generally refer to mountain ranges and bodies of water by their modern names. The maps that accompany the chapters of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East visualize the geographic information contained in each chapter. The boundaries of large ancient agglomerations—​ states and empires—​almost invariably transect the boundaries of more than one modern nation-​state, and readers should be aware that names are often used anachronistically. Terms such as “ancient Iraq” or “ancient Turkey,” for example, are oxymorons, since neither Iraq nor Turkey is attested in the periods covered by the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Nor, for that matter, does the widely used name Zagros—​the impressive mountain chain on today’s border between Iraq and Iran—​occur before the second century bc, when it first appears in Polybius’s Histories (5.44.6). On the other hand, ancient names such as Assyria and Elam may appear in the following chapters in the same sentence as patently anachronistic ones such as “Khabur triangle” and “Diyala region,” which are neologisms used by archaeologists and historians as convenient monikers for which there is no ancient equivalent. Even specialists are guilty of juxtaposing ancient and modern names in the same sentence, and with good reason: if the ancient name of the region is unknown, scholars discussing that area will necessarily use the modern one, even while they refer to other places identified in ancient sources by their premodern names. In terms of geological time, the scope of the present work is narrow and, except for the first two chapters, which set the scene by sketching the prehistoric background of the historical societies discussed

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thereafter, covers roughly three thousand years, from the late fourth millennium bc to the time of Alexander of Macedon (d. 323 bc), whose conquests provide this work with a convenient end date, as they link up the diverse regions under discussion. However, other points in time were considered for the finishing line of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East: the creation of the Persian Empire in the sixth century bc, the spread of Christianity in the early centuries ad, or the advent of Islam in the seventh century ad. Using Alexander’s conquests as the terminal point for this work seemed a good choice, as multiple recent publications have been devoted to the Hellenistic world and the subsequent periods, which naturally combine Western Asia and Northeast Africa in their historical narratives.3 On the other hand, for the earlier periods, those regions are still regularly treated as separate entities as a matter of course, in part due to the different writing systems that underpin much of their study. With the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, we want to link up the regional histories of Western Asia and Northeast Africa as much as possible, and in this we follow a very different strategy than the Cambridge Ancient History, which reserved discussion of Western Asia and Egypt for entirely separate volumes.

I.2.  The lay of the land Depending on the geographical and chronological context, modern research usually refers to the inhabitants of the ancient Near East as Egyptians, Sumerians, Akkadians, Elamites, Amorites, Hurrians, Hittites, Kassites, Nubians, Lybians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Phoenicians, Aramaeans, Persians, etc., and these names—​as well as conventional periodization labels such as “Old Babylonian,” “Middle Kingdom Egypt,” and “Neo-​Elamite”—​are based on linguistic and/​or political criteria. However, such labeling should never imply ethnic uniformity, which would by no means do justice to the linguistic and cultural diversity that was and is typical of the Near East through all periods.

3. For example, Erskine 2003; Bugh 2006.

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While Egyptian sources tend to strongly emphasize the cultural unity of the Nile valley, modes of living in the Nile delta and Lower Egypt, literally “The Wide (Land),” differ in fundamental ways from those in the narrow floodplains of Upper Egypt, literally “The Thin (Land),” and the two regions feature separately in the traditional titles of the ruler.4 And although Nubians, Libyans, and “Asiatics” (i.e., anyone originating from the lands east of Egypt) are often depicted as non-​Egyptians or even anti-​Egyptians in Egyptian texts and images, they constitute an integral part of Egypt’s population throughout the periods covered by the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. From the written sources of Mesopotamia, it is clear that the rulers of the various states along the Euphrates and the Tigris saw their regions as part of a much larger world, and this is already evident in testimonies from the second half of the third millennium bc.5 This world is defined by its borders, the “Four Corners of the World” (first documented in the titles of Naram-​Sin, king of Akkad; cf. c­ hapter 10). The Egyptian worldview is more compact and focuses on the Nile, the longest river in the world, whose water nourishes the land of Egypt. The most commonly used Egyptian term for the country was Kemet, “The Black (Land),” a reference to the dark, fertile soil created by the Nile flood. In opposition to Kemet stands Deshret, “The Red (Land),” that is, the surrounding desert. The idea that in essence the world consisted of the regions along the Nile crucially shaped the Egyptian worldview. The Nile has two tributaries, whose sources lie at the equator:6 the White Nile originates in the highlands of Burundi and the Blue Nile in the Ethiopian highlands. They both flow north and merge at the city of Khartoum, the capital of modern Sudan, into a mighty stream that is the only river to cross the Sahara desert, thereby connecting Central Africa with the Mediterranean Sea. The annual Nile flood is caused by

4. Kahl  2007. 5. Michalowski 2010. 6. On the Nile as natural and cultural landscape see Prell 2009; Willems and Dahms 2017.

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the copious rains that fall during the summer monsoon season in the Ethiopian highlands and first reach Egypt by early July, with the waters continuing to rise until September. The waters of the Blue Nile and the Atbara River used to supply about 80–​90  percent of the floodwaters reaching Egypt, while the White Nile provided a more steady water contribution of 10–​20 percent throughout the year. The construction of the first Aswan Dam in 1902 and the more recent Aswan High Dam, which was built during the 1960s and led to the creation of the vast Lake Nasser, irrevocably ended this phenomenon, which had shaped Egypt’s agriculture for millennia. Previously, when the waters of the flood had subsided, the land along the Nile had emerged, covered with the dark, mineral-​ rich silt deposits that were an ideal fertilizer, and this had ushered in the beginning of the agricultural year in September, mainly focused on the cultivation of wheat, barley, and flax for linen production. The Nile valley is a “convex” river floodplain, in which the highest ground is situated along the banks of the river and lower lying basins are found close to the outer edges of the Nile valley near the desert fringe.7 Through the process of coarse sediments being deposited in larger quantities, elevated levees formed along the banks of the main river channel and along its branches, while the finer sediments were distributed further into the lower basins of floodplain.8 The height of the riverbed and its embankments could rise faster than parts of the floodplain, and this frequently caused the river to change its course, which resulted in the creation of islands in the Nile. The meandering course of the Nile also created higher-​lying levees throughout the floodplain. Because they provide good protection from the inundation, many of these levees have been used for settlements from antiquity until modern times. Those situated close to the main river channel were also used to contain the floodwaters and often were reinforced and raised in height in order to better control the water flow. The foundation of settlements on such higher levees led to the development of permanent settlements, which

7. Butzer  1976. 8. Said  1994.

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were inhabited for long periods of time and gradually grew taller, thus forming a tell or kôm, an artificial mound created by superimposed settlement layers. Thus, towns and villages within the floodplain did not grow much horizontally but had a tendency to evolve vertically. The same was true for settlements in Western Asia, where these artificial mounds are known as tell (in Arabic), tel (in Hebrew), or tol (in Farsi) or as höyük (in Turkish), gir or gird (in Kurdish), or tappeh (in Farsi). The bulk of the Nile water drained into the Mediterranean Sea in a wide delta, frequently directed and controlled by human intervention through the construction of additional canal arms. The intensively used delta comprised two-​thirds of Egypt’s agricultural area and always housed the majority of its population. The Nile was not only indispensable for agriculture, but also Egypt’s main traffic artery. Also south of Aswan, on the way to the interior of Africa, where the waterfalls and rapids that form the six Nile cataracts impede navigation, the many traffic routes followed the river. An alternative overland route ran parallel to the Nile through a sequence of oases through the Western Desert.9 In addition, large wadi systems, with regular freshwater supplies, provided access from the Nile through the Eastern Desert to the Red Sea coast, including in the south Wadi Hammamat, which starts in the region of Thebes, and in the north Wadi Araba, which departs in the region of the Fayum. These wadis served as starting points for Egyptian maritime expeditions to the Sinai peninsula and to locations on the Horn of Africa. Also in Western Asia, the traffic networks relied heavily on waterways whenever possible. The large rivers Euphrates and Tigris and their tributaries were essential for the movement of people and goods in Mesopotamia. While the Tigris is a rather wild river, and shipwrecks are not uncommon even today, navigating the Euphrates is comfortable and comparatively safe. Both rivers originate in the mountain regions of central Anatolia (modern Turkey), while the sources of the main tributaries of the Tigris (Upper and Lower Zab; Diyala/​Sirwan) are located in the Zagros Mountains in the border region between modern Iraq and 9. Förster and Riemer 2013.

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Iran. Through these waterways, the mountain regions and high plateaus of Anatolia and Iran are directly linked to Mesopotamia as well as the entire Fertile Crescent, the hilly flanks running along the Zagros, Taurus, Amanus, and Lebanon mountain ranges and their promontories, where the earliest farming communities had settled permanently in villages (cf. ­chapter 1) and where rain-​fed agriculture and pastoralism were practiced throughout the periods covered by the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East.10 Although the wild mountain rivers could be used for transport only downstream and even then only seasonally (after the spring floods and before the beginning of the autumn rains), most of the wood and building stone used in Mesopotamia reached their destinations in this way. It is important to realize that the agriculture of Egypt and Western Asia was subject to different seasonal rhythms that started in autumn and spring, respectively. The Euphrates and Tigris reached their highest water levels in the spring, when the snow melted in their tributaries’ mountainous headwater regions in Anatolia and Iran. As in Egypt, but at a completely different time of year, the flooding of the rivers challenged the inhabitants of the floodplain of southern Iraq to protect their settlements from the onslaught of water while ensuring that the mineral-​rich and therefore very fertile mud carried by these waters reached the fields. Here, too, the water was tamed with dams and made serviceable with the construction of canals. South of the modern city of Baghdad, today the capital of Iraq, the Euphrates and Tigris Rivers were linked in antiquity by a multitude of canals,11 and these turned a region whose low precipitation would otherwise make it a desert into a phenomenally rich agricultural region. We must imagine a human-​made, highly artificial landscape in the style of the Venice lagoon or the coastal areas of the Netherlands when we think of southern Iraq in antiquity. Dates and the cereals barley and wheat were the most important cultivars, and in contrast to Egypt’s linen industry, 10. For the vastly different environments and landscapes of Western Asia in antiquity see Wilkinson 2003. 11. Gasche and Tanret 1998.

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textile production was based mainly on wool. Shipping was the most efficient form of transport, and the Mesopotamian boatmen were rowing, punting, and sailing on all sorts of barges, rafts, coracles, and boats.12 Some of these vessels were made of wood, but it had to be imported and was therefore expensive. Reeds, straw, and leather were used much more frequently, and waterproofing of the vessels was achieved with the help of bitumen, a highly viscous liquid or semisolid form of petroleum that occurs naturally at seeps in oil-​rich Iraq.13 Egypt, too, had a lack of good-​quality timber suitable for shipbuilding, and close links with trading ports in Lebanon, in particular with Byblos, were essential to obtain cedar wood, the most popular choice for constructing seafaring ships, river boats, and vessels for ritual purposes (such as solar barques).

I.3.  Tectonics and geomorphology The Zagros mountain chain between Iraq and western and southern Iran is one of the most tectonically active regions on Earth, and a long sequence of earthquakes has been documented there.14 Earthquakes often create local, short-​term catastrophic conditions, leveling entire settlements and killing thousands of inhabitants. As is evident at the multiperiod mounds of Tol-​e Nurabad and Tol-​e Spid in Fars, entire settlements were sometimes destroyed by earthquakes, as demonstrated by visible cracks in excavated sections running right through the settlement deposits, slumped walls, and evidence of large-​scale building collapse.15 And yet resettlement on top of or adjacent to villages, towns, and cities destroyed by earthquakes was and is common. This probably reflects the fact that the very same faults that lead to earthquakes also serve as conduits of the groundwater, which in areas of low rainfall enable irrigation

12. Potts 1997: 122–​137. 13. Potts 1997: 99–​100, 130–​132. 14. Ambraseys and Melville 2005. 15. Berberian et al. 2014: 12–​25.

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agriculture,16 and farming populations generally hesitate to abandon areas with reliable groundwater resources. In the ancient Near East, where mud-​brick architecture was very widespread, the phenomenon of destruction, that is, houses and other buildings collapsing, followed by rebuilding on top of the resultant rubble, is well-​documented, as is settlement discontinuity, as many long-​lived sites have intermittent gaps in their settlement sequences. But although earthquakes arguably have killed thousands and thousands of people and caused the destruction and abandonment of entire settlements over centuries, the historical effects of seismicity are debatable. More obvious impacts on human society, settlement location, and the “fate of nations” have been caused by avulsions (i.e., the abandonment of one river channel and the formation of another), particularly in southern Mesopotamia. Since the fourth millennium bc, the dynastic history of the southern Mesopotamian states has been intimately connected to the Euphrates and Tigris Rivers,17 and Holocene avulsions over time have isolated some towns and cities that were formerly situated along rivers. A city like Sippar gradually received less water as the Arahtum Channel, the node of which is located some 20 km (kilometers) to the northwest of the site, superseded the Purattum Channel.18 Conversely, this same shift was instrumental in the rise of the city of Babylon.19 Avulsions, of course, may reflect human intervention as well as natural processes or a combination of both. Canal, dam, and weir construction may all contribute to changing watercourses.20 Although tectonic activity and geomorphologically dynamic zones, such as riverine and coastal marine environments, are well-​attested in some areas, geologically speaking, the physical environment of the societies discussed here was generally stable. Similarly, even if, in very broad

16. Jackson 2006: 1914–​1915; Schmidt et al. 2011: 584. 17. Gasche and Tanret 1998. 18. Heyvaert and Baeteman 2008. 19. Jotheri et al. 2016: 15–​16. 20. See, for example, Woodbridge et al. 2016.

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terms, the climate of the Near East during the Bronze and Iron Ages was generally reminiscent of conditions today, several important “corrections,” to borrow a term from economics, must be recognized. The question always to be borne in mind, of course, is whether such corrections had demonstrable historical as well as social and economic implications.

I.4.  Climate: some issues for consideration All of written human history falls within the geological time period known as the Holocene. Beginning ca. 9700 bc (i.e., 11,700 BP, where BP = “before present,” i.e., ad 195021), the Early Holocene extended to 6200 bc; the Middle Holocene ended around 2200 bc; and the Late Holocene encompasses all time thereafter.22 Thanks to some eighty published palaeoclimate records from Italy, the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian Seas, the Strait of Sicily, Tunisia, the Ionian Sea, Romania, Albania, Greece, the Aegean, the Sea of Marmara, the Black Sea, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, the Red Sea, Iran, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, and the Arabian Sea,23 the fundamentals of the ancient climate of the eastern Mediterranean and the Near East are now reasonably well-​ known. These may be succinctly characterized as hot and dry summers (May to October), amounting to what may be termed summer drought, and wet winters (November to April), ranging from mild in the areas closest to the Mediterranean to severe in parts of the Taurus and Zagros Mountains, with precipitation strongly influenced by cyclonic activity over the Mediterranean and westerly winds moving across the region. The southward retreat of the Inter-​Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) brings depressions from the Atlantic into the area in the winter, and its northward movement accounts for low summer precipitation.24

21. BP dates are generally cited here as bc dates in order to be consistent with conventional historical scholarship. 22. Walker et al. 2012: 651–​656. 23. Finné et al. 2011: Table 1. 24. Finné et al. 2011: 3154.

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However, well-​documented fluctuations in both temperature and precipitation during the Holocene reflect alternation between periods that were, generally speaking, drier and warmer or wetter and cooler. As Finné and colleagues put it:25 “The general climate picture of long-​ term trends driven by the precessional forcing, i.e. the incoming energy to the Earth system mainly governed by changes in the rotation axis of the planet, during the Holocene is relatively well understood. . . . A wetter, warmer first half of the Holocene replaced the cool, dry conditions of the last Ice Age.” Increased aridity is detectable from ca. 4500 bc, and “throughout the latter part of the Holocene a general drying trend seems to have prevailed. However, superimposed on the long-​term trend is short-​term variability, both in time and space, resulting in a climatically complex Holocene.” A generally similar pattern with “a wet mid-​ Holocene and a dry early and late-​Holocene” is demonstrable in western Central Asia.26 However, Holocene climate patterns are notoriously complex due to the “interplay of competing forcing factors controlling regional climate,” including “the low-​latitude summer monsoonal circulation, the mid-​latitude Westerlies, and orographic influences.”27 Fluctuations of this sort, of course, would have had very real implications for wild flora and fauna and the hunters and gatherers who sought to exploit them, as well as for agriculturalists and herders, depending on their precise habitat, bearing in mind that microclimatic diversity over even short distances seems always to have characterized Western Asia. Historians dealing with entire societies and states, their inner workings, and their interactions need to be aware of climatic and environmental issues, but the aim here is not to provide a detailed account of either ancient Near Eastern climate or geomorphology, let  alone to suggest simplistic correlations between climate and social change. Rather, it is to highlight several key issues and then to consider their historical

25. Finné et al. 2011: 3162. 26. Chen et al. 2008: 352. 27. Chen et al. 2008: 352.

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ramifications. Environmental determinism is a very blunt and generally unsatisfactory explanatory instrument, and the observations that follow are in no way meant to serve as a roadmap for climate-​driven explanations of what are, in our opinion, fundamentally social phenomena.

I.4.1  The Inter-​Tropical Convergence Zone and its significance The northward and southward fluctuation of the ITCZ across the equator has been studied extensively. Simply put, it is a response to obliquity (i.e., changes in the tilt of Earth’s axis) and precession (i.e., changes in the orientation of Earth’s axis). Numerous researchers have correlated higher-​than-​modern levels of precipitation in the early Holocene with a temporary, northward displacement of the ITCZ.28 This was the determining factor in the “climatic optimum” from ca. 6500 to 4000 bc in the Arabian peninsula and North Africa, where phytolith29 data suggest a savannah-​like environment prevailed, dotted with seasonal lakes and scattered trees including Acacia, Prosopis and Tamarix, in areas that were later desert or desert steppe.30 Even when broad trends like this can be documented, however, decadal and multidecadal variations in precipitation certainly occurred.31 Moreover, inter-​annual variability, whether in the form of periodic drought or severe winters, has probably always been an important factor.32 Investigations in the Khabur region of Syria have identified moister intervals at ca. 1500–​1400 bc (and again later in the neo-​Assyrian period from the tenth century onward), but these conditions had ceased to exist 28. Fleitmann et al. 2007: 1738; Mohtadi et al. 2016: 191. 29. Phytoliths are fossilized particles of plant tissue. For their use in archaeology see Pearsall 2019. 30. Welsby et al. 2002; Parker et al. 2006a: 243–​252; Parker et al. 2006b: 128; Nicoll 2012; Preston and Parker 2013. 31. Fleitmann et al. 2003: 1738. 32. Neumann and Sigrist 1978; Van Driel 1992: 42–​43, 50; Widell 2007: 56–​57, 59; Reculeau 2011: 173–​175.

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in the thirteenth century.33 High summer evaporation rates may, in some instances, cancel the effects of higher precipitation levels, thus curtailing the expansion of vegetation, particularly forests.34 Seasonally at least, wetter periods would have benefited both hunter-​gatherers and early agriculturalists, yet stark differences sometimes emerge when the microclimates of different regions are compared. The evidence from cores taken from two mountain lakes in the Zagros range, Lake Zeribar in Iranian Kurdistan and Lake Mirabad in Luristan, stands in stark contrast to the picture described for the Arabian peninsula. In western Iran, drier conditions prevailed during the Early and Middle Holocene (to ca. 4500 bc), as did wetter conditions in the Late Holocene (after 2200 bc), for which a shift from almost exclusively winter rainfall to winter-​spring rains has been documented.35 Despite the fact that much of the Holocene predates the era of written history, Holocene climate is relevant because it clearly illustrates the variability in both time and space of living conditions in the ancient Near East and underscores the difficulty of correlating climatic trends or events with historical processes. To cite just one later example, evidence of moister conditions has been documented in the Gejkar speleothem from a cave near Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq between ca. 400 bc and ad 100,36 thus corresponding chronologically to the late Achaemenid, Seleucid, and early to mid-​Arsacid periods.37 Yet it would be simplistic to suggest that climate had a profound influence on Alexander’s campaigns, the wars of his successors, or the expansion of the Arsacids.

33. Contra Neumann and Parpola 1987; see Dornauer 2014: 248; 2016: 57. 34. Griffiths et al. 2001: 757; Djamali et al. 2010. 35. Stevens et al. 2006: 494. 36. A speleothem is a structure formed in a cave by the deposition of minerals from water, for example, a stalactite or stalagmite. For the use of speleothems in paleoclimatic reconstruction see Harmon et al. 2007. 37. Flohr et al. 2017: 1532.

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I.4.2  Megadroughts and pandemics Ancient languages in the Near East feature a variety of expressions for drought38 and water stress.39 Most references of this sort, however, belong to very particular, short-​term periods of water scarcity lasting months or years. Climate proxy data from lakes and speleothems, on the other hand, contain clear reflections of much longer term droughts, which would have been impossible for the people living through them to track. For example, in the Iranian Zagros, the already mentioned cores from Lake Zeribar and Lake Mirabad reflect a major drought lasting some six hundred years that began around 3500 bc.40 To what extent this may have had historical implications for the earliest cities in southern Mesopotamia, for the “Sumerian question” (cf. ­chapter 3), or for Susa and the Elamite world, is impossible to say, but it certainly prompts speculation on potentially climate-​induced migration, although this major drought has received little attention in recent literature.41 Without a doubt, the most widely discussed climate change event in the historical era, affecting much of the Near East and beyond, is the “4.2 kiloyear megadrought” ca. 2200 bc, which is thought to have lasted until roughly 1900 bc.42 Over the past few decades, evidence of seemingly abrupt aridification has been documented from Greenland to India,43 and the “megadrought event” has now been enshrined by the International Commission on Stratigraphy as the boundary between the Middle and Late Holocene.44 There is thus no question that the phenomenon was very real. What can be questioned, however, is the causal relationship between this 38. Stol 2001; Moeller 2005; Widdell 2007:  59. For the three types of drought—​ meteorological, soil-​moisture, and hydrological—​see Jones et al. 2019: 5, Box 1. 39. Heimpel 1987: 313; Riehl et al. 2014. 40. Stevens et al. 2006: 494. 41. Weiss 2017: 4–​21. 42. Staubwasser and Weiss 2006. 43. Dixit et al. 2014; Giosan et al. 2018: 1669. 44. Walker et al. 2012.

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megadrought and societal collapse, specifically the fall of the Akkad state (cf. ­chapter 10) and the end of Old Kingdom Egypt (cf. c­ hapter 12 in volume 2), as argued repeatedly in recent years.45 As some scholars have stressed, “regional variations in the dating of climate fluctuations render the relationship between climate effects and population developments problematic,”46 particularly where “the available paleoclimate records have variable proximity to archaeological sites and regions of interest, which means that it is illogical to draw simple correlations between evidence for climate change and cultural changes.”47 As Simone Riehl rightly emphasized, while climate change is undeniable, and aridification would have had undoubted consequences for subsistence, with knock-​on effects that we struggle to assess, human perceptions of and adaptations to climate change in the past were undoubtedly many and varied.48 Positing a one-​to-​one correlation between aridification and, for example, the demise of the Akkad state is overly simplistic and belies the fact that barely a century after the phenomenon began, another powerful, centralized state—​led by the “Third Dynasty of Ur”—​arose in southern Mesopotamia in the thick of the supposedly devastating megadrought.49 Also, in Egypt, where proxy data are still very limited, it is evident that social and political changes were at least as important as lower Nile floods and generally drier conditions in shaping the transitional period after the Sixth Dynasty; the local population’s resilience and adaptation are clearly noticeable in archaeological and textual records.50 Rather than trying to counter the posited effects of a megadrought through recourse to other climate-​related, adaptational, and economic arguments, it may be helpful to consider a completely different set of 45. Hassan 1997; Cullen et al. 2000; Weiss 2015; 2017: 99. 46. Riehl et al. 2012: 129; cf. also Wossink 2009: 3, 6, 20–​22. 47. Jones et al. 2019: 17; cf. also Wilkinson 2012: 23–​25. 48. Riehl 2017: 242. 49. Riehl et al. 2012: 129. 50. Moreno García 2015.

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data from an entirely different field, namely epidemiology. As students of Iranian and Ottoman history are well aware, cholera and plague pandemics in 1822 and 1831, to name but two instances, as well as the great Iranian famine of 1870/​1871, exacted an almost unimaginable demographic toll in both rural and urban areas in Iran and the Ottoman Empire.51 Two-​thirds of the entire population of the province of Gilan, for example, are thought to have died from the plague in 1830/​1831. The city of Ardabil in 1837 was nothing but “a mass of ruins” following two years of plague. An estimated 1.5–​2 million people are believed to have died from famine in Iran in 1870/​1871.52 The demographic effects of these catastrophes—​depopulation, the abandonment of agricultural fields and settlements, and mass migration—​are well-​documented in contemporary sources. Yet despite this, both the Qajar and Ottoman regimes survived. The effects of severe, abrupt climate change in the late third millennium bc may have been analogous. Ineluctable shortages of water and oppressive drought resulting in concomitant famine may have triggered the abandonment of large areas, such as the Khabur triangle, that had previously seen imperial expansion and agricultural investment. This does not mean, however, that states across the Near East necessarily collapsed, even if their subject populations suffered greatly, experiencing death and dislocation on an almost unimaginable scale.

I.5.  Ancient Near Eastern history in its environmental context Environmental history is a burgeoning field, and the ancient Near East is ripe for the sort of long-​term investigation combining land use, climate, demography, and economy exemplified, for example, by David Moon’s study of the exploitation of the Russian steppe.53 Although case studies

51. Russell 1791; Cormick 1823; Tholozan 1874; Macnamara 1876; Khan 1908; Morris 1976; Kotar and Gessler 2014. 52. Potts 2014: 305–​307 (with references). 53. Moon 2013.

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of micro-​social and economic history in the Near East have multiplied in recent years, the emphasis of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East lies squarely on the political and social histories of the societies under investigation. It is undeniable that an awareness of the environmental and climatic backdrop to the events described by the authors assembled here adds to our understanding of the region’s history, but at varying scales of breadth and intensity. Environmental determinists would do well to consider examples from the medieval era to the recent past, which clearly show that societies, states, and empires are more than capable of surviving in suboptimal conditions, hanging onto political power in the face of popular upheavals, army revolts, natural disasters, costly wars, and territorial encroachment by hostile actors. From a European or Russian perspective, Ottoman Turkey and Qajar Iran were corrupt, incompetent states, on their last legs and about to fall at the turn of the eighteenth century. That neither fell until the early twentieth century is an object lesson in resilience. Neither state may have run like a well-​oiled machine, but each did enough to keep going. There is no reason to think that ancient Near Eastern states, led by rulers whose motivations to retain power were no less compelling than those of later monarchs in the region, had a greater propensity to collapse in the face of environmental crises than their early modern counterparts. R ef er en c es Ambraseys, N.N. and Melville, C.P. 2005. A history of Persian earthquakes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berberian, M., Petrie, C.A., Potts, D.T., Asgari Chaverdi, A., Dusting, A., Sardari Zarchi, A., Weeks, L., Ghassemi, P. and Noruzi, R. 2014. Archaeoseismicity of the mounds and monuments along the Kāzerun Fault (western Zāgros, SW Iranian plateau) since the Chalcolithic period. IrAnt 49: 1–​81.

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Bugh, G.R. (ed.) 2006. The Cambridge companion to the Hellenistic world. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Butzer, K.W. 1976. Early hydraulic civilization in Egypt: a study in cultural ecology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Chen, F., Yu, Z., Yang, M., Ito, E., Wang, S., Madsen, D.B., Huang, X., Zhao, Y., Sato, T., Birks, H.J.B., Boomer, I., Chen, J., An, C. and Wünnemann, B. 2008. Holocene moisture evolution in arid central Asia and its out-​of-​ phase relationship with Asian monsoon history. QSR 27: 351–​364. Cormick, J. 1823. On the occurrence in Persia of the epidemic cholera of India. Medico-​Chirurgical Transactions 12: 359–​365. Cullen, H.M., de Menocal, P.B., Hemming, S., Brown, F.H., Guilderson, T. and Sirocko, F. 2000. Climate change and the collapse of the Akkadian empire: evidence from the deep sea. Geology 28: 379–​382. Dixit, Y., Hodell, D.A. and Petrie, C.A. 2014. Abrupt weakening of the summer monsoon in northwest India ∼4100 yr ago. Geology 42: 339–​342. Djamali, M., Akhani, H., Andrieu-​Ponel, V., Braconnot, P., Brewer, S., de Beaulieu, J.-​L., Fleitmann, D., Fleury, J., Gasse, F., Guibal, F., Jackson, S.T., Lézine, A.-​M., Médail, F., Ponel, P., Roberts, N. and Stevens, L. 2010. Indian summer monsoon variations could have affected the early-​Holocene woodland expansion in the Near East. The Holocene 20: 813–​820. Dornauer, A. 2014. Review of Reculeau 2011. ZA 103: 245–​249. Dornauer, A. 2016. Assyrische Nutzlandschaft in Obermesopotamien: natürliche und anthropogene Wirkfaktoren und ihre Auswirkungen. Munich: Utz-​Verlag. Erskine, A. (ed.) 2003. A companion to the Hellenistic world. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell. Finné, M., Holmgren, K., Sundqvist, H.S., Weiberg, E. and Lindblom, M. 2011. Climate in the eastern Mediterranean, and adjacent regions, during the past 6000 years: a review. JAS 38: 3153–​3173. Fleitmann, D., Burns, S.J., Mangini, A., Mudelsee, M., Kramers, J., Villa, I., Neff, U., Al-​Subbary, A.A., Buettner, A., Hippler, D. and Matter, A. 2007. Holocene ITCZ and Indian monsoon dynamics recorded in stalagmites from Oman and Yemen (Socotra). QSR 26: 170–​188. Fleitmann, D., Burns, S.J., Mudelsee, M., Neff, U., Kramers, J., Mangini, A. and Matter, A. 2003. Holocene forcing of the Indian monsoon recorded in a stalagmite from southern Oman. Science 300: 1737–​1739.

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Flohr, P., Fleitmann, D., Zorita, E., Sadekov, A., Cheng, H., Bosomworth, M., Edwards, L., Matthews, W. and Matthews, R. 2017. Late Holocene droughts in the Fertile Crescent recorded in a speleothem from northern Iraq. Geophysical Research Letters 44: 1528–​1536. Förster, F. and Riemer, H. (eds.) 2013. Desert road archaeology in ancient Egypt and beyond. Cologne: Heinrich-​Barth-​Institut. Gasche, H. and Tanret, M. 1998. Changing watercourses in Babylonia: towards a reconstruction of the ancient environment in lower Mesopotamia. Ghent:  Ghent University & Chicago:  The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Giosan, L., Orsi, W.D., Coolen, M., Wuchter, C., Dunlea, A.G., Thirumalai, K., Munoz, S.E., Clift, P.D., Donnelly, J.P., Galy, V. and Fuller, D.Q. 2018. Neoglacial climate anomalies and the Harappan metamorphosis. Climate of the Past 14: 1669–​1686. Griffiths, H.I., Schwalb, A. and Stevens, L.R. 2001. Environmental change in southwestern Iran:  the Holocene ostracod fauna of Lake Mirabad. The Holocene 11: 757–​764. Harmon, R.S., Schwarcz, H.P., Gascoyne, M., Hess, J.W. and Ford, D.C. 2007. Paleoclimate information from speleothems: the present as a guide to the past. In Sasowsky, I.D. and Mylroie, J. (eds.), Studies of cave sediments: physical and chemical records of paleoclimate. Dordrecht: Springer, 199–​226. Hassan, F.A. 1997. Nile floods and political disorder in early Egypt. In Dalfes, H.N., Kukla, G. and Weiss, H. (eds.), Third millennium bc climate change and old world collapse. Berlin: Springer, 1–​24. Heimpel, W. 1987. The natural history of the Tigris according to the Sumerian literary composition Lugal. JNES 46: 309–​317. Heyvaert, V.M.A. and Baeteman, C. 2008. A Middle to Late Holocene avulsion history of the Euphrates river:  a case study from Tell ed-​Der, Iraq, Lower Mesopotamia. QSR 27: 2401–​2410. Jackson, J. 2006. Fatal attraction: living with earthquakes, the growth of villages into megacities, and earthquake vulnerability in the modern world. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A 364: 1911–​1925. Jones, M.D., Abu-​Jaber, N., AlShdaifat, A., Baird, D., Cook, B.I., Cuthbert, M.O., Dean, J.R., Djamali, M., Eastwood, W., Fleitmann, D., Haywood, A., Kwiecien, O., Larsen, J., Maher, L.A., Metcalfe, S.E., Parker, A., Petrie, C.A., Primmer, N., Richter, T., Roberts, N., Roe, J., Tindall, J.C.,

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Ünal-​İmer, E. and Weeks, L. 2019. 20,000  years of societal vulnerability and adaptation to climate change in southwest Asia. WIREs Water 6 (2). Retrieved from https://​doi.org/​10.1002/​wat2.1330 (last accessed 8 July 2019). Jotheri, J., Allen, M.B. and Wilkinson, T.J. 2016. Holocene avulsions of the Euphrates River in the Najaf area of western Mesopotamia:  impacts on human settlement patterns. Geoarchaeology 31: 175–​193. Kahl, J. 2007 Ober-​und Unterägypten: eine dualistische Konstruktion und ihre Anfänge. In Albertz, T., Blöbaum, A. and Funke, P (eds.), Räume und Grenzen: topologische Konzepte in den antiken Kulturen des östlichen Mittelmeerraums. Munich: Utz-​Verlag,  3–​28. Khan, M.A. 1908. Taoūn (peste): étude sur la peste en Perse. Paris: Michalon. Kotar, S.L. and Gessler, J.E. 2014. Cholera:  a worldwide history. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Macnamara, C. 1876. A history of Asiatic cholera. London: Macmillan. Michalowski, P. 2010. Masters of the Four Corners of the Heavens:  views of the universe in early Mesopotamian writings. In Raaflaub, K.A. and Talbert, R.J.A. (eds.), The ancient world:  comparative histories. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 147–​168. Moeller, N. 2005. The First Intermediate Period: a time of famine and climate change? ÄL 15: 153–​167. Mohtadi, M., Prange, M. and Steinke, S. 2016. Palaeoclimatic insights into forcing and response of monsoon rainfall. Nature 533: 191–​199. Moon, D. 2013. The plough that broke the steppes: agriculture and environment on Russia’s grasslands, 1700–​1914. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Moorey, P.R.S. 1994. Ancient Mesopotamian materials and industries:  the archaeological evidence. Oxford: Clarendon. Moreno García, J.C. 2015. Climatic change or sociopolitical transformation? Reassessing late 3rd millennium Egypt. In Meller, H., Risch, R., Jung, R. and Arz, H.W. (eds.), 2200 bc:  a climatic breakdown as a cause for the collapse of the Old World? Halle: Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie,  79–​94. Morris, R.J. 1976. Cholera, 1832:  the social response to an epidemic. London: Holmes and Meier. Neumann, J. and Parpola, S. 1987. Climatic change and the eleventh−tenth-​ century eclipse of Assyria and Babylonia. JNES 46: 161–​182.

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Neumann, J. and Sigrist, M. 1978. Harvest dates in ancient Mesopotamia as possible indicators of climatic variations. Climatic Change 1: 239–​252. Nicholson, P.T., and Shaw, I. (ed.) 2000. Ancient Egyptian materials and technology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nicoll, K. 2012. Geoarchaeological perspectives on Holocene climate change as a civilizing factor in the Egyptian Sahara. In Giosan, L., Fuller, D.Q., Nicoll, K., Flad, R.K. and Clift, P.D. (ed.), Climates, landscapes, and civilizations. Washington, DC: American Geophysical Union, 157–​162. Parker, A.G., Davies, C. and Wilkinson, T. 2006a. The early to mid-​Holocene moist period in Arabia: some recent evidence from lacustrine sequences in eastern and south-​western Arabia. PSAS 36: 243–​255. Parker, A.G., Preston, G., Walkington, H. and Hodson, M.J. 2006b. Developing a framework of Holocene climatic change and landscape archaeology of the lower Gulf region, southeastern Arabia. AAE 17: 125–​130. Pearsall, D.M. 2019. Case studies in paleoethnobotany: understanding ancient lifeways through the study of phytoliths, starch, macroremains, and pollen. New York and London: Routledge. Potts, D.T. 1997. Mesopotamian civilization:  the material foundations. London: Athlone Press. Potts, D.T. 2014. Nomadism in Iran: from antiquity to the modern era. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Prell, S. 2009. Der Nil, seine Überschwemmung und sein Kult in Ägypten. SAK 38: 211–​257. Preston, G.W. and Parker, A.G. 2013. Understanding the evolution of the Holocene Pluvial Phase and its impact on Neolithic populations in south-​ east Arabia. AAE 24: 87–​94. Reculeau, H. 2011. Climate, environment and agriculture in Assyria in the 2nd half of the 2nd millennium bce. Wiesbaden, Germany: Harrassowitz. Riehl, S. 2017. Regional environments and human perception: the two most important variables in adaptation to climate change. In Höflmayer, F. (ed.), The late third millennium in the ancient Near East: chronology, C14, and climate change. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 237–​260. Riehl, S., Pustovoytov, K.E., Dornauer, A. and Sallaberger, W. 2012. Mid-​ to-​late Holocene agricultural system transformations in the northern Fertile Crescent: a review of the archaeobotanical, geoarchaeological, and philological evidence. In Giosan, L., Fuller, D.Q., Nicoll, K., Flad, R.K.

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and Clift, P.D. (eds.), Climates, landscapes, and civilizations. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 115–​136. Riehl, S., Pustovoytov, K.E., Weippert, H., Klett, S. and Hole, F. 2014. Drought stress variability in ancient Near Eastern agricultural systems evidenced by δ13C in barley grain. PNAS 111: 12348–​12353. Russell, P. 1791. A treatise of the plague: containing an historical journal, and medical account, of the plague, at Aleppo, in the years 1760, 1761, and 1762. London: G.G.J. and J. Robinson. Said, R. 1994. The river Nile:  geology, hydrology, and utilization. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Schmidt, A., Quigley, M., Fattahi, M., Azizi, G., Maghsoudi, M. and Fazeli, H. 2011. Holocene settlement shifts and palaeoenvironments on the Central Iranian Plateau: investigating linked systems. The Holocene 21: 583–​595. Staubwasser, M. and Weiss, H. 2006. Holocene climate and cultural evolution in late prehistoric—​early historic West Asia. Quaternary Research 66: 372–​387. Stevens, L.R., Ito, E., Schwalb, A. and Wright, H.E. 2006. Timing of atmospheric precipitation in the Zagros Mountains inferred from a multi-​proxy record from Lake Mirabad, Iran. Quaternary Research 66: 494–​500. Stol, M. 2001. Ublum “drought.” NABU 2001 (no. 5): 8. Tholozan, J.D. 1874. Histoire de la peste bubonique en Mésopotamie. Paris: G. Masson. Van Driel, G. 1992. Weather: between the natural and the unnatural in first millennium cuneiform inscriptions. In Meijer, D.J.W. (ed.), Natural phenomena: their meaning, depiction and description in the Ancient Near East. Amsterdam: Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences, 39–​52. Walker, M.J.C., Berkelhammer, M., Björck, S., Cwynar, L.C., Fisher, D.A., Long, A.J., Lowe, J.J., Newnham, R.M., Rasmussen, S.O. and Weiss, H. 2012. Formal subdivision of the Holocene Series/​Epoch:  a discussion paper by a working group of INTIMATE (Integration of ice-​core, marine and terrestrial records) and the Subcommission on Quaternary Stratigraphy (International Commission on Stratigraphy). Journal of Quaternary Science 27: 649–​659. Weiss, H. 2015. Megadrought, collapse, and resilience in late 3rd millennium bc Mesopotamia. In Blaich, M.C., Geppert, K., Legler, K., Reinholdt, A., Schwarz, M., Swieder, A., Tucker, D. and Wießler, M. (eds.), 2200 bc: ein Klimasturz als Ursache für den Zerfall der Alten Welt?/​2200 bc: a climatic

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breakdown as a cause for the collapse of the old world? Halle: Landesmuseum für Vorgeschichte, 35–​52. Weiss, H. 2017. 4.2 ka BP megadrought and the Akkadian collapse. In Weiss, H. (ed.), Megadrought and collapse:  from early agriculture to Angkor. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 93–​159. Welsby, D.A., Macklin, M.G., and Woodward, J.C. 2002. Human responses to Holocene environmental changes in the northern Dongola Reach of the Nile, Sudan. In Friedman, R.F. (ed.), Egypt and Nubia: gifts of the desert. London: British Museum Press, 28–​37. Widell, M. 2007. Historical evidence for climate instability and environmental catastrophes in northern Syria and the Jazira: the chronicle of Michael the Syrian. Environment and History 13: 47–​70. Wilkinson, T.J. 2003. Archaeological landscapes of the Near East. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Wilkinson, T.J. 2012. Introduction to geography, climate, topography, and hydrology. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), A companion to the archaeology of the ancient Near East. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 3–​26. Willems, H. and Dahms, J.-​M. (ed.) 2017. The Nile: natural and cultural landscape in Egypt. Bielefeld: Transcript Verlag. Woodbridge, K.P., Parsons, D.R., Heyvaert, V.M.A., Walstra, J. and Frostick, L.E. 2016. Characteristics of direct human impacts on the rivers Karun and Dez in lowland south-​west Iran and their interactions with earth surface movements. QI 392: 315–​334. Woods, C. 2015. Visible language: inventions of writing in the ancient Middle East and beyond. Chicago:  The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. 2nd, rev. ed. Wossink, A. 2009. Challenging climate change:  competition and cooperation among pastoralists and agriculturalists in northern Mesopotamia (c. 3000–​ 1600 bc). Leiden: Sidestone Press.

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Prehistoric Western Asia Peter M. M. G. Akkermans

1.1.  Key issues and chronological sequence Between roughly 9500 and 4000 bc, people in Western Asia (see figure 1.1) were engaged in an array of societal changes and developments, the consequences of which would extend far beyond the region. Two major hallmarks of this period were the transition from mobile forager to settled, agricultural communities and the emergence of complex urban societies. The area provides some of the earliest evidence in the world for these two developments. The Near East was a center of farming, because many of the key foodstuffs (cereals, pulses, sheep, and goats) were indigenous to the region and were exploited and domesticated at a very early stage. Although the sedentary lifestyle preceded the farming economy by several thousand years, the gradual yet intense entanglement of these two was associated with new socioeconomic concepts that focused on the house and home; the taming of the wild; and the symbolic, ritual order. People were increasingly tied to fixed places, which implied a reshaping of the local environment into a man-​made world by imposing houses and fields on the landscape. It also entailed a strong sense of place and ancestral belonging, both of which were expressed through a diversity of architectural traditions, burial practices, and artifact assemblages. The steady growth of the communities, the increase in agricultural produce Peter M. M. G. Akkermans, Prehistoric Western Asia In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0002.

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Figure 1.1:  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 1. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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and surplus, and the expanding of exchange networks all fostered fundamental change in the sociopolitical fabric of the Near East, which shifted from egalitarian to hierarchical constructs. Social inequality, craft specialization, and private property became increasingly apparent, paving the way for the development of urban polities in the fourth millennium bc. The Near East, being subcontinental in scale, is not a discrete and neatly bound geographical or environmental unit; it neither is, nor ever was, a unified cultural entity. Instead, its deep history presents a multitude of overlapping and intersecting developments and histories, some of which tended to synchronize over large areas while others took distinctly local directions. As a result of differing amounts of research intensity, many of the many regional-​scale trajectories are still unevenly understood. To demonstrate relevant continuities and changes in the prehistoric societies of the region over time and space, this chapter relies on selective cases of social, economic, political, and ideological advancements. Most of these case studies come from the best-​explored parts of the ancient Near East, including Mesopotamia, Anatolia, and the southern Levant. I  hasten to add that because we still are poorly informed about other parts of this region, we should not simply assume that they were absent or insignificant.1 While there is no single chronological framework for the later prehistory of the Near East, it is helpful to divide the period into four main stages: an early phase, ca. 9500–​8500 bc, associated with the first sedentary communities; a second phase, ca. 8500–​7000 bc, concurring with changes in the structure of settlements and the appearance of agriculture; a third phase, ca. 7000–​5500 bc, associated with increasing regionalism and the development of pastoralist communities; and a fourth, final phase, around 5500–​4000 bc, which marks the transition between villages and the early cities. There is no consensus regarding the chronological terminology and the often dazzlingly complex regional culture histories (with typologies of either flint tools or pottery as a principal

1. See, for example, the volume on the prehistory of Iran by Matthews and Nashli 2013.

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determining factor). However, it is common usage in archaeological literature to refer to the first three phases as representing the Neolithic (or New Stone Age) and to the fourth phase as the Chalcolithic (or Copper Age).

1.2.  Environment, climate, and culture, ca. 11,000–​4000  bc Some 12,800 to 11,600 years ago there was a period of abrupt global cooling and aridity known as the Younger Dryas, named after a wildflower, Dryas octopetella, that is typical of cold and open tundra environments.2 In this period, climatic conditions in the Near East mimicked those of the last Ice Age some seven thousand years earlier, with the average annual temperature plunging as much as 10°C below present-​day levels. The severe cold and the reduced precipitation led to an advance of the glaciers in the highlands, the retreat of the forests, and the spread of a barren steppe dominated by grasses and shrublets (e.g., wormwood), as well as patches of drought-​resistant pistachio and terebinth trees. The effects of the millennium-​long cold event on human habitation and land use are still debated. Although the evidence remains far from satisfactory, it is believed that Anatolia continued to be occupied by small groups who subsisted on hunting and gathering and made use of caves and ephemeral campsites for shelter and living.3 Around 11,000–​10,000 bc some of these Anatolian groups were involved in the long-​distance exchange of obsidian, which was transported over many hundreds of kilometers into Syria and Israel. In the Levant up to the Euphrates, the “Natufian communities” carried on their mobile, forager lifestyle as they had in the millennia before, although there is good evidence for longer, perhaps permanent stays in selected locales. Sites such as Eynan in Israel and Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria were about 0.2 ha (hectares) in extent,

2. Carlson  2010. 3. Düring 2011.

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with clusters of circular or semicircular dwellings 2 to 6 m (meters) across.4 Significant climate change took place in the Early Holocene at about 9600 bc, when the Younger Dryas ended just as abruptly as it had started, within a mere forty to fifty years. Much warmer and wetter conditions set in, reducing the extent of the herbaceous steppe and allowing for an expansion of open forests of conifers and deciduous trees (like oak and cedar) out of their temperate refuges on the flanks of mountain ranges. Extensive parklands of oak, terebinth, and almond trees spread across the highlands. The woodland advance was relatively slow in eastern Turkey and western Iran until 4000 bc but was more rapid in the coastal montane parts of western Turkey and the Levant. In this latter area, precipitation was very high in the Early to Middle Holocene, with the rainy season occurring not only in winter, as it does today, but also in the summer.5 While differences in vegetation growth may simply reflect natural parameters (e.g., climate, topography, hydrology), they may also implicate some rudimentary forms of human landscape management and modification of preexisting ecosystems. It is important to realize that the oak-​terebinth parkland zone was also the main natural habitat for wild cereals and for many of the animals that were later domesticated. The early villages in the parkland range may reflect an intensive exploitation of this landscape, in the form of cutting of trees for fuel and timber, and with the clearance and intentional burning of vegetation for crop cultivation and livestock grazing. However, clear and unambiguous evidence for extensive, human-​made landscapes in the region is available only from the Bronze Age and later times.6 The melting of the ice sheets in the highlands and the increase in runoff water led to the rise of the Mediterranean Sea level by at least 30 m, causing the gradual inundation (over several thousand years) of the littoral plains over a width of 2–​40 km. This also submerged coastal

4. Bar-​Yosef and Valla 1991. 5. Roberts et al. 2001. 6. Roberts  2002.

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prehistoric settlements, such as Atlit-​Yam off the coastline of Israel.7 Similar flooding took place between Arabia and Iran in what is now the Persian Gulf, where the transgression was at times dramatic, especially in gentle terrain. The shoreline, with its brackish or saline estuaries, marshes, and lagoons, continually changed, until the sea level stabilized after the mid-​fourth millennium bc.8 Extensive wetlands and swamps also developed in many inland regions in the Early Holocene, such as around Çatalhöyük in central Turkey, in the Amuq plain in southern Turkey, and near Damascus in Syria. Considerable sedimentation and aggradation took place in the Euphrates and Tigris river valleys, where marshes and ponds were common. The steady rainfall in the Mediterranean region gave rise to a hydrology of active springs, high water tables, and streams with a perennial flow.9 Lush vegetation was found along the perennial streams, comprising forests of poplar, willow, tamarisk, ash, elm, plane tree, and alder. They attracted a wide variety of animals, including aurochs, wild boar, fallow deer, and many smaller mammals and birds.10 The desert margins were substantially reduced in the Early Holocene, as in the Negev or in the badia of eastern Jordan, where botanical remains suggest an average annual rainfall on the order of 250–​300 mm (millimeters), compared with modern precipitation values in the region of less than 200 mm or even less than 50 mm.11 Many of today’s hyper-​arid portions of the Near East may have been extensive, grass-​dominated savanna parklands, with more favorable hydrological conditions than in modern times.12 The climatic amelioration at the beginning of the Holocene allowed for rather lavish and diverse environments, very different from the 7. Galili et al. 1993. 8. Wilkinson 2012. 9. Rosen 2007. 10. Akkermans and Schwarz 2003; Wilkinson 2012. 11. Henry 2014: 319. 12. Rosen 2007; Rollefson 2016.

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degraded landscapes in many parts of the Near East today; current conditions can be blamed, to a very large extent, on human use and exploitation over the millennia.13 In the early tenth millennium bc, the diversity of landscapes offered ample opportunities for small groups of people who subsisted on hunting and gathering and frequently moved from one temporary camp to another in the course of an annual round. At least some of these communities were already engaged in a more intensive exploitation of plants and animals and had chosen to settle down in selected areas for long periods of time. However, we should not imagine these groups to have lived in a pristine “Garden of Eden.” The climate change also facilitated the spread of many parasites out of their original tropical niches. Increasing temperature and humidity and the associated coastal changes, formation of swamps, and appearance of lakes and ponds with very little current all promoted high rates of parasitic infection, such as malaria, schistosomiasis, and hookworm.14 While the warm and wet phase of the Early Holocene showed many small fluctuations, there was a significant climatic anomaly at the global level around 6200 bc, which lasted for about 160–​200 years: the “8.2 kiloyear climate event.” Climatic proxy data and simulation studies both indicate that the event was characterized by cold and dry conditions, which evoked changes in hydrology and vegetation. The climate change was abrupt, and both its onset and termination seem to have taken place with startling speed on the decadal timescale—​within fifty years and probably even within five to ten years.15 It has been suggested that the event initiated dramatic social disruption, culture collapse, population migrations, warfare, and various other sorts of mayhem in the Near East,16 but there is little clear evidence for this.17 While changes in settlement organization and material culture can be related to the climate

13. Cordova 2005. 14. Groube 1996; Larsen 2006; Eshed et al. 2010; Latham 2013. 15. Alley and Ágústsdóttir 2005; Rohling and Pälike 2005; Prasad et al. 2006. 16. Weiss 2000; Clare et al. 2008; Hassan 2009. 17. Maher et al. 2011; Flohr et al. 2016; Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2016.

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event at the end of the seventh millennium bc, these shifts do not appear to have been negative. Rather, these changes took the form of successful adaptive strategies for coping with extended environmental unpredictability and resource scarcity. Although the data are inconclusive, there are several indications (including relatively high Dead Sea levels) that parts of the southern Levant during the period between 6000 and 4000 bc were somewhat more humid than they are today. The findings of Goldberg and Rosen point toward a last major Holocene wet pulse in the southern Levant ca. 4500–​4200 bc, and it is perhaps not surprising that this pulse coincided with the occurrence of settlements in marginal areas previously unoccupied, such as the Negev.18 The uneven distribution of herd animals may also serve as an indication of changing (micro)environments. While sheep, goats, cattle, and pigs were the primary species for animal husbandry, the latter two require more water and therefore their presence may reflect greater humidity. Significantly, the distribution of pig bones in the fifth-​millennium Levantine settlements matches present patterns; pig bones are entirely absent at modern sites that receive less than 200 mm of average precipitation.19

1.3.  Becoming sedentary, ca. 9500–​8500 bc The onset of the Neolithic period in the mid-​tenth millennium bc has always been understood as a major cultural watershed. At this time, people began to distance themselves from the mobile forager way of life and instead chose to live in permanent places, cultivate plants, and breed animals for food. Sedentism is a matter of degree, the intensity of which is often difficult to demonstrate from one habitation to another. Although sites sometimes had long occupation sequences, it is doubtful that this occupation was always continuous. The level of sedentary behavior in its initial stage may well have been overstated by earlier studies.20 There were many ephemeral open-​air camps with little or no evidence of solid 18. Goldberg and Rosen 1987. 19. Rowan and Golden 2009. 20. Finlayson et al. 2011; Finlayson 2014.

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architecture in the Levant, as well as temporarily used rock shelters, such as at ‘Iraq ed-​Dubb in northern Jordan and Nachcharini in the Anti-​ Lebanon mountains. Many Neolithic communities preferred mobility over permanent settlements until the eighth millennium bc, when there was a proliferation of village life on an unprecedented scale. Although the period between 8000 and 7000 bc is often associated with significant population growth in most parts of the Near East, it is perhaps better understood in terms of a transformation of small forager groups with little archaeological visibility into larger, sedentary farming communities with high archaeological visibility. It remains to be seen whether currently identified site distribution patterns are representative of the earliest Neolithic occupations, depending on factors such as scale and intensity of archaeological fieldwork. Many settlements are also deeply buried underneath later, alluvial or occupation deposits. There is considerable evidence in many parts of the Near East for the steady aggradation of the landscape, which sometimes covered these earliest habitations below meters of sediment.21

1.3.1 Earliest villages The number of identified villages and hamlets in this earliest period is very low, comprising in each region a handful of small sites, which usually only cover a few hundred square meters. These sites preserve evidence of long-​lasting but not necessarily year-​round occupation. In the Levant, places like Nahal Oren and Netiv Hagdud had compounds of semi-​subterranean dwellings that were up to 5 m in diameter and oval or circular in shape, which may have accommodated a family of perhaps three to four persons. In addition to shelters for everyday activities, the buildings were foci of social identities and held symbolic significance for their inhabitants, acting perhaps as “homes” in the sense of explicit, private expressions of particular family or household groups.22 At Nahal

21. Wilkinson 1999; 2003. 22. Watkins 1990; Byrd 2005.

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Oren, the buildings stood in two rows along terraces in the hillside. At Dhra’ near the Dead Sea, a concentration of oval or circular structures made of mud on stone foundations lay across an area of approximately 80 × 50 m. There were also small, short-​lived campsites with no evidence of architecture, such as Sabhra 1 and Jebel Queisa J-​24 in Jordan. Caves were seasonally used by small groups of hunter-​gatherers, as at Nachcharini in the Anti-​Lebanon. The rock shelter of ‘Iraq ed-​Dubb in Jordan had several oval, stone-​built huts measuring approximately 1.5 × 3 m, suggestive of a more prolonged stay.23 The sizes and numbers of dwellings suggest that most settlements had very restricted populations, in the range of 30 to 150 individuals. Early village sites were rare in Mesopotamia prior to ca. 8000 bc, with the small occupied areas mainly found in major river valleys. An example is Jerf al-​Ahmar on the Euphrates in Syria, revealing a complex though not always continuous sequence of occupations dated ca. 9500–​ 8700 bc. Here, houses varied widely in shape, from round and oval to elliptical or quasi-​rectangular with rounded corners; fully rectangular structures occurred only in the top phase (ca. 8700 bc). While many structures were single rooms, others were internally partitioned or progressively enlarged by adding new rooms onto the earlier ones. Internal hearths and stone pavements indicate that they served as dwellings. The buildings in the later levels often stood together in groups of four or five around a yard with hearths and storage pits, indicating a shared preparation of food.24 Qermez Dere in the foothills of the Jebel Sinjar range in Iraq provides another example of an early village in Mesopotamia. The site, extending over an area of about 100 × 60 m, was in use for two or three centuries around 9000 bc. The settlement was divided into two distinct areas, one of which consisted of single-​roomed, semi-​subterranean houses that were kept meticulously clean; the other area had no such buildings but rather a single structure with a different layout, surrounded by

23. Rollefson 2001; Kuijt and Goring-​Morris 2002; Bar-​Yosef 1995. 24. Stordeur  2015.

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masses of ground-​stone tools. The intentional segregation of activities may imply that the houses carried specific significance, in which certain tasks were perhaps deemed to be inappropriate. The excavators attribute a similar importance to the one or two pairs of freestanding, clay pillars with modeled tops that stood symmetrically in the round or oval houses. These steles, it is claimed, were not for holding up the roof but were meaningful in other, symbolic terms, suggesting a conflation of ritual and domestic traits in the houses. Almost identical finds come from Qermez Dere’s larger and longer-​lived sister site Nemrik, on a river terrace above the Tigris near Mosul in Iraq, although here the pillars in the houses were interpreted as roof supports. A form of symbolism seems to have been expressed through a number of birds’ heads that were sculpted onto the ends of stone rods (probably pestles). The skeletal remains of an individual were discovered in a burned house at the site, with the arms apparently outstretched toward one of these bird rods.25 Parallel developments took place in the Upper Tigris valley and other drainages of eastern Turkey, where there were several small indigenous settlements that lasted from the late eleventh millennium bc (Hallan Çemi) into the tenth millennium bc (Körtik Tepe, Demirköy, and the lowest levels at Çayönü).26 The settlements consisted of circular houses made of stone and wattle and daub that sometimes had elaborate ornaments. A notable example comes from Hallan Çemi, where one house contained the skull and horns of a wild aurochs, which had at one time been hung on the wall. To some extent the communities in Anatolia shared a number of material culture assemblages with the approximately contemporary sites in northern Iraq, including types of lithic implements and sculpted stone pestles. The sites in Anatolia were perhaps a regional offshoot of a more widespread Neolithic culture that existed along the upper reaches of the Tigris as far south as the Mosul region in Iraq. Interestingly, the process of sedentarization seems to have started much later on the central Anatolian plateau farther to the west, at places 25. Kozlowski 2002, who speculates about these bird figures as the “gods from Nemrik.” 26. Özdoğan et al. 2011; Özbaşaran 2011; Rosenberg and Erim-​Özdoğan 2011.

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such as Pinarbaşi around 9000–​7800 bc, suggestive of strong regional trends and traditions in landscape exploitation.27 Several of these early village sites display forms of architecture that served special, nonresidential purposes. Both Dhra’ and Wadi Faynan 16 in southern Jordan had buildings with suspended floors that have been interpreted as communal granaries, shared by the whole village.28 In the Jordan valley, Jericho revealed a massive stone wall attached to a large tower about 8 m high with an internal staircase. Although the sturdy tower and the adjoining wall were initially considered to be defense structures, giving Jericho the label “earliest town in the world,” it has more recently been suggested that they fulfilled a role in public ritual activities.29 Other architecture for community-​wide ritual stood at Jerf al-​Ahmar in Syria in a secluded underground setting and included large, round, and wholly subterranean buildings (see figure 1.2). These were embellished with benches and upright stone slabs carved with friezes of triangles, undulating lines, human figures, and birds of prey.30 The exciting recent discoveries at Göbekli Tepe in the piedmont of southeastern Turkey provide a special perspective on ritual and cult buildings more than eleven thousand years ago. The excavations revealed several dozen round or oval buildings on a hilltop that covered an area of about 8 ha. The large structures, 10–​30 m in diameter, had at least two concentric walls incorporating a symmetrical arrangement of T-​ shaped limestone pillars on the perimeter and two taller ones (up to 5–​6 m in height and up to 20 tons in weight) in the center. The monoliths were decorated with low-​relief carvings of wild animals, including lions, boars, foxes, cranes, ducks, vultures, snakes, and scorpions. Some of the pillars were clearly conceived as anthropomorphic, having arms carved in low relief that bent at the elbows and with hands that met on the figures’ abdomens. Occasionally a decorated belt and loincloth were

27. Düring 2011; Baird 2012. 28. Kuijt and Finlayson 2009; Finlayson et al. 2011. 29. Bar-​Yosef  1986. 30. Stordeur 2015.

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Figure  1.2:  Jerf al-​Ahmar ca. 9000 bc: oval to rectangular houses built in an arc around a large, entirely subterranean cult structure. Photo by D. Stordeur (CNRS).

sculpted below the hands. At the end of their use life, the buildings were deliberately filled in with tons of soil and limestone chips, mixed with domestic debris (e.g., ashes, animal bones, stone tools). With regard to their sheer monumentality, the extraordinary sculptured monoliths, and the great effort invested in their construction and in their infilling upon abandonment, Göbekli Tepe is usually interpreted as a site of communal ritual and pilgrimage:  a major cult center that attracted groups of foragers from the wide surroundings.31 Alternatively, Banning has suggested that the “cult buildings” at Göbekli Tepe were perhaps (large) houses, albeit ones that were replete with symbolic content and little or no clear-​cut distinction between sacred and profane spaces.32 Earlier, Kent Flannery had proposed that Neolithic architecture predominantly served communal purposes, and that the binary

31. Schmidt 2005; 2011; Dietrich et al. 2012. 32. Banning 2011. See also Watkins 1992.

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division between public and private, and indeed household architecture sensu stricto, may not have developed until the eighth millennium bc.33

1.3.2  Beginnings of cereal cultivation and herd management The previously described sites all relied upon foraging in the wild as a primary means of food procurement; none of them was yet involved in the farming economy proper. Agriculture as we know it began in the late ninth millennium bc and involved humans taking control of the multiplication of selected species of plants and animals, by consciously or unconsciously selecting for attributes favorable to this use.34 There are claims for domesticated plants at some places at a very early time (e.g., rye at eleventh-​millennium Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria, wheat and barley at tenth-​millennium ‘Iraq ed-​Dubb in Jordan); although these few early examples do have morphologies consistent with domesticated species, they may actually represent forms that develop in small numbers as mutations within wild cereal stands. The claims are also difficult to reconcile with the lack of domesticates at sites elsewhere for another two thousand years or more, suggesting that early efforts at domestication, if they existed at all, had a highly restricted, local impact. Although debate continues regarding aspects of domestication, the relationship between these early communities and their natural environment set into motion a series of changes that would drastically impact socioeconomic processes of the region in the long run.35 There is a general consensus that the communities were gradually abandoning their previous reliance on hunting and gathering in favor of the intentional cultivation of plants and the herding of animals on an unprecedented scale.36 Cultivation may have been practiced for many hundreds of years

33. Flannery 1972; 2002; Finlayson et al. 2011. 34. See Nesbitt 2002 for a discussion of the key attributes in this process. 35. Robb 2013. 36. Nesbitt 2002; Zeder 2011; Willcox 2012.

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without leading to domesticated species. It entailed the preparation and management of fields, sowing, harvesting, and storing seeds or other plant parts; herding required some form of control and selection over the movement of animals, their breeding, their feeding, and their culling. In the words of a prominent archaeologist in the 1940s, V. Gordon Childe, these developments were not only an escape from “the impasse of savagery” but also “an economic and scientific revolution that made the participants active partners with nature instead of parasites on nature.”37 Although the development is phrased differently today, the Neolithic is still widely considered as being primarily an economic achievement, which subsequently served as a prime mover in culture change. A pervasive element of this economic stance is to synchronize an increasing control over plants and animals (read: farming) with the occurrence of the sedentary lifestyle. It assumes that farming necessitated a permanent stay in one place with regard to such matters as regular labor input and crop protection. It also implies that agriculture is inherently superior to foraging and will follow automatically once people have the knowledge to practice it. Tim Ingold has argued that this perspective, basically a nineteenth-​century understanding, is “a master narrative about how human beings, through their mental and bodily labour, have progressively raised themselves above the purely natural level of existence to which all other animals are confined, and in doing so have built themselves a history of civilization.”38 It is now evident that the origins of sedentary lifeways had little or nothing to do with agriculture and stock rearing, despite their common conflation. Sedentary village life in substantial circular dwellings at places ranging from Eynan in Israel, to Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria, to Hallan Çemi in Turkey began several thousand years before the adoption of farming and relied upon an intense use of wild resources.39

37. Childe 1942: 55. 38. Ingold 1996: 14–​15. 39. Valla 1995; Rosenberg and Redding 2000; Özkaya and Coskun 2011.

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The sites in the southern Levant were utilizing a wide variety of wild plant resources. Study of botanical assemblages have revealed intensively collected and possibly cultivated barley and, less conclusively, emmer wheat and pulses. In addition to vetch and lentil, wild oats and barley were stored in large quantities at Gilgal and Netiv Hagdud in the Jordan valley.40 Significantly, Kislev and others have suggested that the earliest plant domesticate in the Near East was neither a cereal nor a pulse but a tree crop. They have interpreted the presence of an infertile mutant fig at Gilgal as evidence of intentional selection by the local community for this fig variety with its sweet, soft fruit that remains on the tree longer.41 Farther to the north, more than sixty species of wild plants with edible seeds or fruits were identified at the site of Mureybet in Syria (in its level III, ca. 9500–​8700 bc), including sizable quantities of wild einkorn wheat. At nearby Jerf al-​Ahmar, it was barley instead of wheat that was predominantly harvested in the wild, perhaps reflecting local environmental variation or cultural preferences. Large quantities of cereals at the site (over half of all seed and fruit remains) and the common arrangements of stone querns for grinding in and around the houses suggest that wild grains were a major component of the community diet.42 Faunal remains indicate the intense exploitation of a broad spectrum of wild animals for their meat, fur, claws, or a combination thereof: gazelle, fallow deer, red deer, onager, aurochs, wild boar, and caprine, along with smaller animals such as badger, wild cat, polecat, beaver, hare, fox, fish, hedgehog, and dozens of bird species. At several sites in the Tigris basin in eastern Turkey (e.g., Hallan Çemi, Körtik Tepe), caprine hunting was the focus of the animal economy. Age data indicate the focused selection of individuals between the ages of one and three years, which is interpreted to represent the hunting of juvenile-​rich female herds as well as bachelor herds of rams. This pattern of exploiting primarily young sheep may be a precursor to strategies of herd management in the region.

40. Asouti and Fuller 2012. 41. Kislev et al. 2006. See also Zeder 2011 for counterarguments. 42. Stordeur et al. 1997.

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Alternatively, it may also be a consequence of a targeted hunting strategy, rather than deliberate herding.43

1.4.  The expansion of farming villages, ca. 8500–​7000  bc During this period important shifts gradually took place in the organization of settlements and societies, including new forms of architecture and the implementation of farming. There was a substantial increase in site size and intrasettlement density, suggesting large population aggregations in places. The number of sites also increased considerably with the establishment of settlements in areas that previously had been unoccupied. Sites began to occur in the arid zones of the Negev and Sinai, as well as in the interior steppes of Syria, eastern Jordan, and Arabia. These were mainly seasonally used occupied areas with ephemeral architecture in the form of round huts and stonewalled enclosures. A  novel hunting method in the marginal areas involved “desert kites”: large, funnel-​ shaped installations comprising two or more stone walls often many kilometers in length, converging on an enclosure 100–​160 m across and situated on the crest of a ridge or hill. Commonly interpreted as traps for the mass capturing of game such as gazelle and oryx, the kites are indicative of very sizable hunting parties working closely together.44 An intriguing event was the colonization of Cyprus and its integration into mainland cultural developments. This began by seafaring forager groups traversing the roughly 70–​100 km distance from the mainland to the island in the ninth millennium bc, although there was likely more than one colonization episode and from more than one area of the Levant. Sharing a wide range of cultural traits with the northern Levantine communities, around 8500–​8000 bc the islanders initiated small settlements such as Mylouthkia, Akanthou, and Shillourokambos, which were characterized by circular buildings and, in the late phase

43. Arbuckle and Özkaya 2006. 44. Holzer et al. 2010; Bar-​Oz et al. 2011; Akkermans et al. 2014.

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at Akanthou, both curvilinear and rectangular architecture with lime-​plastered and sometimes red-​colored floors. Obsidian was being brought to Cyprus in large quantities from Gollü Dağ in Cappadocia, with Akanthou on the north coast probably central in the exchange, acting as a landfall site. Essential in terms of the environmental trajectory of the island’s agricultural opportunity was the intentional transfer of a range of founder species of plants and animals from the mainland to the island. Some of these species were successful and some were not, such as cattle, which disappeared not long after their introduction. Connections between Cyprus and the Levant became fewer and more opportunistic after 7000 bc. This could have been the result of either an inward-​looking trend on the island or low local population density and low resource stress making intensive interaction with the mainland unnecessary.45 Generally speaking, the many Neolithic occupied areas varied considerably in extent, duration, and layout from one region to another. There were very small, short-​lived camps; special-​purpose factory sites for flint working; and rock shelters and caves in the Lebanon, Taurus, and Zagros ranges. Significantly, many more sites were created in the form of settlement mounds (Arabic tell; Hebrew tel; Turkish höyük; Farsi tappeh), often with an ordered layout, uniform structures, frequent rebuildings, and repeated occupation over often many hundreds or even thousands of years. The choice to live at selected sites for a prolonged time leads to artificial environments in which settlement mounds become centers of social engagement and cultural landmarks full of history and memories. They act as the focal points of group identities and are deeply rooted in past experiences and concepts inherited from earlier generations. The consistent reconstruction of houses in the same place and on the same alignment over several generations implies the explicit recognition of lineages and suggests that property and other rights were inheritable. An example may have been the “history houses” at Çatalhöyük in central Anatolia, which were elaborately decorated and long-​lived buildings with multiple rebuilds in the same location and large numbers of 45. Clarke 2010; 2014.

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burials in them. They added to a developing notion of ancestral place and descent and were reminders of the social order through continual symbolic reference, assuring a sense of stability and continuity in time and space.46 Most mounds were modest in extent (0.5–​1 ha), with their few and scattered houses in each phase inhabited by a few dozen people at the most, probably connected through lines of kinship. A striking development in settlement organization was the large sites that came into existence throughout the Near East at about 7500 bc, from Aşıklı Höyük in Turkey to Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria and ‘Ain Ghazal in Jordan. These places covered up to 16 ha and were major population centers according to widespread opinion, correspondingly often described in terms of “mega-​sites,” “towns,” and “proto-​urbanism.”47 Excavations make clear that some sites were, indeed, densely populated, such as Çatalhöyük ca. 7000 bc with 13 ha, which was packed tight with housing inhabited by probably several thousand people. However, it is often difficult to fully evaluate the layout of these large sites, and estimates of settlement areas are usually highly arbitrary. It is even more difficult to establish the contemporaneity of occupation in these areas, beyond broad phases of many decades or sometimes several centuries in duration. Simultaneous settlement all over a site is often just assumed rather than proven. It is important to realize that site size is not the same as settlement size or population size. The issue is relevant here because regional dominance and political power often are attributed to these sites based simply on their size. Due to the tendency to associate them with hierarchy and centrality, they are often positioned as cornerstones in the emergence of societal complexity. Yet it may be telling that there are no consistent signs of elites, social hierarchy, differentiated wealth distribution, and other forms of explicit ranking at either the large sites or any of the small sites.48 Perhaps the communities were organized horizontally by means

46. Hodder and Pels 2010. 47. Simmons 2007. 48. Hole 2000; Akkermans et al. 2006; Akkermans 2013.

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of extended kin groups and lineages, in which leadership and status were temporary and shared in the hands of elders, as opposed to a vertical, institutionalized hierarchy. In this perspective there would be a considerable degree of egalitarianism in the villages and an explicit resistance to any tendency of emergent authority or the superiority of any would-​be chiefs.49 In the southern Levant, some sites continued to build clusters of round houses, such as at Beidha (ca. 8000 bc), where small dwellings formed groups suggesting that a single family may have used several of them. However, houses across the region at this time were more typically rectangular in shape. Rectangular features in many different arrangements and sizes replaced the earlier circular architecture; this change began in Syria and the Levant around 8700 bc, whereas the central Anatolian plateau followed suit 800–​900  years later.50 The buildings, made of adobe or dry-​laid stone masonry, often consisted of a large primary room with one or more smaller subsidiary rooms attached to act as kitchens, work spaces, and storage areas. Division of household space is typical and may have involved a desire for privacy and household storage. The rectangular plan of the structures made it easy to change their layout by adding or removing units according to need. The buildings, it appears, were intended to accommodate entire families rather than individuals. Many structures also had evidence of tool use and storage in spaces that were walled off from other houses or the village at large, suggesting that the households became largely self-​sufficient. However, the change involved more than the creation of units of economic production and consumption. It had substantial social implications, including the replacement of communal shared resources so characteristic of the earliest Neolithic communities with individual household production

49. Kuijt 2000; Byrd 2005. 50. Ethnographic data actually suggest that the change from round to rectangular architecture can be implemented within the course of a single generation; see Schwerdtfeger 1972.

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Figure  1.3: Excavated residential structure with a sunken floor at the Neolithic site of Bonçuklu in central Anatolia, dated to ca. 8200–​7900 bc. Photo by D. Baird (Bonçuklu Project).

and surplus accumulation; this shift may have fostered inequalities of all kinds in the villages.51

1.4.1  Houses There is a considerable regional variation in house construction. Settlements on the central Anatolian plateau show evidence of considerable architectural and organizational continuity over time and space. The small site of Boncuklu (ca. 8200–​7900 bc) had roughly oval houses with a sunken floor and a mud-​brick superstructure (see figure 1.3). Elsewhere there were dense groupings of buildings consisting of one primary room, often with an attached auxiliary room and with access through the roof.

51. Flannery 1972; 2002.

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Bleda Düring suggested that the local communities were not constituted of discrete, autonomous households but of clusters of these structures in neighborhoods. Hence, social practice in these settlements centered on the neighborhood level instead of the single household unit.52 Different configurations occurred at places like Nevalı Çori in eastern Anatolia, where there were explicitly freestanding buildings up to 18 m long and 6 m wide.53 These buildings contained two or three parallel wings of small compartments for storage, with a larger rectangular room for residence at one end. Around the outer façade there appear to have been open galleries supported by wooden posts at regular distances. Many structures in Anatolia built their foundations on a grid plan composed of low parallel stone walls at close intervals, which probably supported an elevated floor. In this way, air circulated below the floor, helping to keep the buildings dry and cool, a crucial feature in the case of storage of perishable products such as grain. The earliest levels of the site of Bouqras in Syria yielded traces of rectangular mud-​brick compounds with a large courtyard that was surrounded by L-​shaped living quarters. At other sites in Syria, such as Tell Abu Hureyra and Tell Halula, there were houses up to about 80 sq m in area, with three to five rooms accessible through low, narrow portholes with high sills. The central room often contained a small fireplace for heating and cooking in the middle, as well as storage bins and low platforms along the walls. The floors and walls in these houses sometimes carried a hard white lime plaster, which was burnished to a shine, and occasionally had red-​painted decoration. Whereas the plastered areas were painstakingly kept clean, occupational material occurred abundantly in the lanes and yards outside. The production of lime plaster for the construction of floors and the molding of domestic installations was a major technological innovation in the Neolithic. The process entailed first transforming limestone into lime through burning, then adding

52. Düring 2006. 53. Hauptmann 1988; 1999.

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water to create plaster; when this hardened, it had properties akin to concrete.54 Other types of domestic architecture occurred in the southern Levant, where rectangular buildings of the “megaron” or “pier house” type became dominant in the eighth millennium. The buildings consisted of a large rectangle divided into three sections, with short stone or mud-​brick piers symmetrically placed along the long axis of the structure for roof support and to divide space. The entrance was typically found in the middle of one of the shorter sides of the house. The occasional occurrence of wooden posts suggests that the front of the buildings had a porch or anteroom through which people had to pass. The largest room was normally at the end of the house farthest from the entrance and had a sunken plastered hearth in its center, suggesting that this space served for domestic living. The smaller side rooms could be used for storage.55 In southern Jordan in the late eighth and seventh millennia bc, there were also stone-​walled, two-​story houses at settlements that were set on steep slopes, such as Ba’ja and Basta near Petra. At these sites the second floor was accessed by staircases and probably served as the major residential area, with the lower floor predominantly meant for storage.56 Ian Kuijt interpreted these multistory buildings as a reaction to social crowding in the villages and the development of specialized activity areas and storage spaces inside the residences. The vertical expansion of a village would imply an increased density of structures and a higher capacity for housing people. In short, the number of people living in these settlements may have been far greater than is suggested by their site size.57

54. See Akkermans and Schwartz 2003 and references therein. 55. Byrd and Banning 1988. 56. Kuijt 2000; Gebel 2006. 57. Kuijt 2000.

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1.4.2  Communal buildings and ritual Examples of nonresidential architecture occur across early farming sites of all sizes. Nondomestic structures are typically defined by their placement away from the habitations, their unique architectural features, and related finds. These places may have been a focal point of ceremonial activity in the settlements. They also may have served more profane purposes, including feasting or the consultation of the community at decisive moments, but all were associated with considerable ritual ostentation. An example is the sanctuary at the 0.4 ha settlement of Nevalı Çori in the Taurus piedmont. It consisted of a square building, 14 × 13.5 m in extent, which was entirely constructed of stone and stood at a height of almost 3 m. An internal portico led two steps down to a large room built with a terrazzo floor (i.e., made of small pieces of stone set into plaster), benches along the walls, and a niche in one of the walls. The white plaster on the stone walls was decorated with red and black paint. The benches with their flat limestone covering were interrupted at regular intervals by worked stone pillars that originally probably supported the flat roof. Two rectangular monoliths about 3 m high stood next to each other in the middle of this room; one of them showed a very stylized and life-​sized figure with two arms and hands sculpted in flat relief in the stone. An astounding find was the large stone statues of humans, birds, and other sculptures, all found within the walls and benches. They may have stood in the shrine originally, but once broken for one reason or another, they were probably later reused as building material when the entire structure was reshaped.58 Interestingly, the site of Çayönü, also in southeast Turkey, yielded a building almost identical to the one at Nevalı Çori, perhaps indicative of regional trends in these cult installations. Çayönü is important for yet another type of ritual-​purpose building, related to death and burial. Its “Skull Building” contained the skeletal remains of many dozens of people, suggesting that this structure had ritual relevance for the community at large. The charnel house, 10 × 8 m in extent, consisted of one large

58. Hauptmann 1993.

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room with three subterranean compartments in the back, all of which were entirely filled with skulls and other human remains. The main room had low benches along the red-​painted walls and a flat stone slab on the floor, with traces of both human and animal blood. Apparently the Skull Building not only served for the deposition of human remains but also was actively used in cult practices associated with death and the spilling of blood.59 Houses for the dead also occurred at Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria, where one building had a small, narrow room at the back, with its entrance blocked by mud bricks. This space served as a repository for the remains of at least twenty-​four individuals, represented by flexed, often headless corpses and by skulls deposited singly or in groups on the floor. In a pit in another room in the same house were the remains of twenty-​five to thirty children and young adults. These were not primary burials but remains that had already decayed before collective interment.60 Similar finds come from a building at nearby Dja’de al-​Mughara, ca. 8000 bc, which contained the remains of at least thirty-​eight individuals buried in a variety of ways, including primary inhumations, groups of skulls, and other separately buried skeletal parts. With regard to its secluded location in the Galilee hills in Israel, the small site of Kfar HaHoresh, ca. 8000–​6800 bc, has been interpreted as a cult center of regional importance, where people from nearby lowland villages would gather for burials and associated rituals of mourning. Excavations at the site yielded no domestic buildings but some rather unusual structures, such as an extensive plastered platform and isolated L-​shaped walls, which were associated with lime-​plastered cappings that covered human burials. The skeletal remains of more than eighty-​five individuals have been uncovered at this site, of both sexes and all ages. Burial practices were widely diverse and included primary inhumations, secondary burials (occasionally in groups of up to fifteen individuals), and caches of human skulls; some of these were plastered and modeled

59. Özbek 1988; Loy and Wood 1989. See also Croucher 2012. 60. Moore and Molleson 2000.

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to produce a lifelike image of a human face. Significantly, animal remains were regularly placed in the graves or in nearby middens, indicative of mortuary feasting. Among the exceptional finds was what appears to have been an animal drawing rendered in human long bones in one area, and from another pit came the remains of eight aurochs, mostly without their crania, found in association with the burial of a young man.61 Cult activity was also identified at ‘Ain Ghazal in Jordan, which produced caches of extraordinary plaster statues, dated ca. 7700–​7600 bc. The statues were shaped in the form of female busts, two-​headed busts, and complete human figures up to 104 cm in height (see figure 1.4). They were made of limestone plastered onto a skeletal frame of twigs, reeds, and cordage; facial features and other parts of the body were rendered using paint in black bitumen. Presumably the figures were displayed upright in sanctuaries. When no longer needed for their original purpose, the statues were intentionally deposited in pits, in one instance together with three plastered human skulls. Caches of similar figures have also been found at Jericho and, possibly, the Nahal Hemar cave near the Dead Sea.62

1.4.3  Food production, diet, and health While the intensive exploitation of natural resources was the basis of the small communities ca. 9000 bc, the subsistence economy changed significantly a millennium later with the shift from foraging to farming. There is abundant evidence of the growing of major crops in this period, including domesticated wheat, barley, lentils, bitter vetch, peas, chickpeas, and flax. The earliest intimations of animal domestication also occurred in this period, first of sheep and goats, and later pigs and cattle; in all cases there was a gradual transition from a wild to a commensal to a fully domestic status. The southern Levant has long been considered a core area for the development and diffusion of agriculture,

61. Goring-​Morris and Horwitz 2007. 62. Rollefson 1984; Grissom 2000. See also Garfinkel 1994.

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Figure  1.4:  Plaster statues (restored) found at ‘Ain Ghazal in Jordan, ca. 7700–​7600 bc. The tallest figure is 90 cm high. Photo by G.O. Rollefson.

but new evidence suggests that crops and herds were domesticated slowly and independently in different locations across the Near East rather than emerging from a single area.63 Another pervasive belief was that plants were domesticated at least fifteen hundred years before animals, but it now appears that both occurred at roughly the same time in the upper reaches of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers.64 The shift to domestic animal husbandry began in the Taurus and Zagros ranges in the north by 8300 bc, whereas it emerged (much) later in the southern Levant, with 63. Zeder 2011; Fuller et al. 2012. 64. Zeder  2011.

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a focus on caprines. Domesticated cattle and pigs were present in the Levantine communities by the sixth millennium bc.65 In general, the farming settlements in the Near East were larger and longer-​lived than most villages of the previous period. Communities of several hundred or even several thousand could be supported by the revenue of the fields and herds. On the assumption that population was on average proportional to settlement area, Kuijt has argued for a significant demographic increase in association with the advance of farming. He notices that the largest known sites ca. 11,000 bc were approximately 0.2 ha, whereas the largest settlements at about 9000 bc averaged over 1 ha, and those around 8000 bc, coinciding with the appearance of domesticated crops and animals, had increased to 4–​5 ha. Even larger settlements, between 10 and 14 ha in size, were found in the region at about 7000 bc.66 A  sedentary lifeway also promoted population increase by reducing factors such as miscarriages, the duration of breastfeeding, and the interval between births.67 An impact on the landscape took place even in areas without an explicit population increase; sedentary groups tend to exhaust their local food resources, particularly those in the wild, making it necessary for them to extend control over plants and animals to ensure constant availability of food. Farming did not necessarily improve the quality of life in early villages, nor was it obviously superior to foraging. Archaeological contexts show that the introduction of grains and the dietary increase resulted in a decline in health and alterations in activity and lifestyle.68 There is good evidence that agriculture brought diminishing returns in relation to the labor invested: early farmers had more work and less leisure than foraging groups. The continual agricultural work was energy intensive, particularly during the harvest, when tasks had to be completed within a few weeks to avoid crop losses. The evidence for severe stress on human

65. Zeder 2011; Arbuckle and Atici 2013; Makarewicz et al. 2016. 66. Kuijt 2000; 2008. 67. Layton et al. 1991. 68. Larsen 2006.

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bones (e.g., knees, wrists, toes, and lower vertebrae) at Tell Abu Hureyra in Syria was the result of carrying heavy loads and the prolonged pounding and grinding of grain in a kneeling position. A  strong correlation between these pathologies and female skeletal remains indicates that it was the local women who performed the laborious food preparation. Inequality based on gender may well have been in place here.69 The food that people were eating, whether as roasted grains, biscuits, unleavened bread, porridge, or gruel, was often hard and coarse. At Tell Abu Hureyra, the teeth of many adults were severely worn down to the roots from chewing gritty food and were lost prematurely. In the seventh millennium bc, wear on teeth was substantially reduced by the introduction of pottery and the cooking of food in ceramic vessels.70 Relying heavily on root or cereal crops, farming communities also had less balanced and less varied diets and generally were less healthy. Malnutrition and the heavy workload seem to have caused a decline in average life expectancy; in the Neolithic this was about twenty-​five to thirty-​five years, and only about half of infants reached adulthood.71 Droughts and crop failures may have occurred frequently, particularly in the areas on the fragile boundaries of the dry-​farming zone. Occasional cold spells may have decimated the domestic flocks, with subsequent risks of famine and starvation. Another serious threat was the spread of parasites and infectious disease in the permanent and crowded farming settlements. Unlike the forager groups that continually shifted camp, sedentary communities tended to accumulate human and other waste, supporting the growth of vermin populations that became constant rather than incidental health hazards. The proximity to animals in the villages allowed some zoonotic diseases to transfer from animals to humans. In the words of Jessica Pearce-​Duvet: “Only as a result of agriculture could population densities become large enough to permit the persistence of ‘civilization pathogens’, which cause our most fatal diseases

69. Molleson 1994. See also Peterson 2010. 70. Molleson  2000. 71. Cohen 1989.

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and transmit rapidly from person to person ( . . . ). Because of their virulent transmission, such diseases could not have persisted in small, pre-​ agricultural human populations and must therefore have originated elsewhere.”72 Burials found at ‘Ain Ghazal in Jordan yielded several cases of tuberculosis, and nearby Nahal Hemar produced evidence for head lice, which may transmit diseases such as typhus. One infant buried at Tell ‘Ain el-​Kerkh in Syria showed traces of porotic hyperostosis, caused by either anemia or parasitic infection.73 With respect to the preceding discussion, Jared Diamond claimed that the adoption of agriculture was in many ways a catastrophe, because with it came a poorer quality of life, malnutrition, disease, and gender-​ related inequality. Diamond also argued that because farming enabled local communities to produce food surpluses, they were prone to abuse by would-​be elites by permitting differentiated access to, and power over, these surpluses.74 Why then would people remain tied to the farming economy? One reason may be that the perceived rewards (e.g., consistent produce, surplus, security) outnumbered the drawbacks, at least in the short run. Another reason may be that once the decision in favor of farming had been made, its consistency was probably understood as “the way things are always done.”75 The communities may have known many ways of food procurement but adopted them only selectively for their purposes.

1.4.4  Commodities and exchange The larger and longer-​lived, food-​producing settlements supported the development of crafts and new technologies, as well as the acquisition of goods from distant regions. Stone was a primary material for tool production. New toolkits (e.g., adzes, axes, hoes) provided the means for

72. Pearce-​Duvet 2006: 2. See also Diamond 2002. 73. Pearce-​Duvet 2006; Eshed et al. 2010. 74. Diamond 1987. See also Scott 2017. 75. Stark 1998.

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the clearing and cultivation of the land, the processing of the harvests (e.g., sickle blades, ground-​stone tools), and the continued procurement of food in the wild (arrowheads). Domestic commodities were also made of bone, shell, wood, and textile. The cave of Nahal Hemar near the Dead Sea in Israel (ca. 8200–​7300 bc) contained fragments of woven baskets, mats, and napkins, found in association with burials.76 The earliest metalworking was in the form of native copper shaped into beads. It is attested at places like Aşıklı Höyük and Çayönü in Anatolia from about 8200 bc onward and was introduced much later in Mesopotamia and the Levant. The quantities of metal used were everywhere very low, and the skills of the metalworkers remained at the same initial level for several thousand years. Metal was neither vital for subsistence nor yet fully valued as a prestige commodity. This picture began to change by the late fifth millennium, first in Turkey and Iran and then elsewhere, with the onset of smelting or casting and the recognition of the significant advantages of copper-​based alloys over pure copper. These included their resistance to oxidation during casting and weathering, greater strength and durability, and aesthetic qualities.77 There is abundant proof of regular, if small-​scale, exchanges of all kinds of materials, such as obsidian, flint, basalt, marine shells, and bitumen. It is probable that many more items rarely preserved in the archaeological record should be added to this list, such as food, woven baskets, hides, and cloth. The Anatolian highland was the source of many valuable raw materials, including obsidian (volcanic glass), with important points of supply in Çiftlik in Cappadocia and Bingöl and the Lake Van region in eastern Turkey. The obsidian was extensively exploited locally but also widely traded for thousands of years, at least until the fourth millennium bc, because of its material and aesthetic qualities. Levantine obsidian came almost exclusively from sources in the Cappadocian region; it traveled through a down-​the-​line exchange system more than 800 km from the Anatolian plateau through the coastal areas of Syria

76. Schick 1988. Cf. Solazzo et al. 2016. 77. Moorey 1994; Thornton 2010.

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and Lebanon as far south as the Negev in Israel.78 The exchange networks through which this type of material circulated may have ranged from opportunistic reciprocal exchange to formal, highly structured trade. The networks helped to establish alliances and contacts between distant groups, to transmit new ideas and technologies, and to create relations of dependence over the control of exotic resources.79

1.5.  Changing traditions and new lifestyles, ca. 7000–​5500  bc Until recently, researchers of the ancient Near East considered the presence of pottery to be an essential divide, distinguishing the early from the late Neolithic lifeways. However, current lines of research see this transition as much less profound than was earlier believed. To a very large extent, settlement continued at sites that were previously in existence, with no significant breaks in their often lengthy sequences. Sites in the southern Levant retained earlier building traditions, including the “pier houses” and multistory houses, until new forms of architecture and settlement organization gradually made their appearance at the end of the seventh millennium. Although most settlements in Syria and Iraq retained their small size, some sites grew to a greater extent. Bouqras may have covered some 3 ha, occupied by as many as 180 houses and used by several hundred people ca. 6500 bc. In the early seventh millennium, Tell Sabi Abyad in northern Syria was characterized by houses that were perfectly symmetrical and tripartite in plan; each structure comprised a relatively wide central hall flanked by parallel rows of narrow rooms along each of the long sides, usually with a smaller cubicle at the rear end. The houses stood upon large rectangular platforms about 10 × 7 m in area and up to 1 m in height, sometimes provided with low staircases. Halfway through the seventh millennium an architectural innovation occurred at the site: circular buildings up to 5 m

78. Cauvin et al. 1998. 79. See, for example, Watkins 2008; Richter et al. 2011; Ortega et al. 2014.

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across. Initially only a handful of such round structures were employed, but their use as ordinary dwellings for living and shelter increased significantly in the occupation layers dated to 6200–​5500 bc. Excavations at a range of sixth-​millennium sites in Mesopotamia showed that this architectural change was radical, in the sense that it entailed an almost complete replacement of rectilinear edifices by round structures. It has been suggested that an entirely new architectural rationale came into existence; it was likely not only utilitarian but also societal and ideological, although the incentives remain poorly understood.80 Very different developments took place in central Anatolia, where Çatalhöyük grew into one of the largest Neolithic settlements in the Near East, covering about 13.5 ha and rising up to 20 m above the Konya plain. Population estimates range between thirty-​five hundred and eight thousand people for any one phase of occupation between 7400 and 6200 bc.81 Houses at the site were densely packed, with almost no lanes or entrances at ground level. Rather, the flat rooftops served as the means of access. Each house consisted of a rectangular main room with the ladder entry and one to three side rooms that were used for food preparation and storage. The white-​plastered floors and walls bore paintings, reliefs, sculptures, and pedestals that supported wild bull horns. The floors in the main rooms were usually divided into platforms of different heights, some of which had graves underneath. Significantly, there is no evidence for public or ceremonial buildings; rituals seem to have been centered in the houses at the site. It has been suggested that the strong and steadily increasing emphasis upon the house for ritual and other social and economic practices came at the expense of the community at large. Households began to act more and more independently, which led to a deterioration in the socioeconomic cohesiveness of the local community by the end of the seventh millennium.82

80. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003; Akkermans 2010; 2013. 81. Cessford 2005; Hodder 2011. 82. Düring 2001; Hodder 2011.

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1.5.1  Climate and culture, ca. 6200 bc Substantial changes in the organization of the prehistoric communities took place at about 6200 bc, probably in association with the cool and arid climate event that occurred around this time. As pointed out in section 1.2, the “8.2 ka climate event” is often associated with societal catastrophe and culture collapse, although the evidence remains highly controversial. Drought and other impacts of the event are said to have led to the abandonment of many of the larger settlements in the southern Levant and elsewhere.83 Others, however, have suggested that the Neolithic socioeconomic fabric was basically unsustainable and that its collapse was inevitable in the long run.84 This perspective explains the widespread abandonment in terms of overpopulation and social stress, related to landscape destruction, overexploitation, and resource depletion (e.g., deforestation for fuel and building materials and overgrazing by sheep and goats). The climate change ca. 6200 bc may have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Yet we need to be aware of the ever-​present danger of climatic determinism, in which synchronicity of climate and culture change is often taken as self-​evident proof for causality. Chronological correlations are not always as clear or as consistent as some authors would have us believe. Human societies do not simply passively react to climate change; they develop coping mechanisms and are often remarkably resilient.85 In central Anatolia, changes in settlement distribution occurred at the end of the seventh millennium, but these were probably related to local social factors and not to the climate event. The long-​lived settlement upon the east mound of Çatalhöyük came to an end at about 6200 bc, but occupation continued for another thousand years at the neighboring western mound. An abundance of sites is attested across Anatolia

83. Weninger et al. 2009; Bar-​Yosef 2014. 84. Goring-​Morris and Belfer-​Cohen 2010. 85. Wilkinson 2003; Rosen 2007; Flohr et al. 2016; Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2016.

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ca. 6400–​6000 bc, suggesting that the 8.2 ka climate event did not affect settlement patterns.86 Likewise, recent excavations at Tell Sabi Abyad do not support the “collapse-​of-​cultures” interpretation in Mesopotamia; rather, they provide compelling evidence for substantial cultural diversification around 6200 bc, with rearrangements and innovations in nearly all aspects of the settlement. A  few of these changes were the proliferation of new types of architecture, including extensive multiroomed storehouses and the mass appearance of round buildings; pottery becoming a mass-​ produced object with high technological and stylistic diversity, including new forms of cookware and storage vessels in different shapes and fabrics; a significant symbolic investment in ceramics, with painted decoration carrying abstract and geometric motifs; the introduction of new lithic weaponry, including small transverse arrowheads and short-​ tanged points; abundant spindle whorls, suggestive of changes in textile manufacture including wool; and the introduction of seals and clay sealings to denote property and control storage. Anna Russell found that pig husbandry was abandoned in favor of cattle and that, perhaps even more important, sheep and goats were increasingly exploited for their meat as well as their milk and wool, instead of for meat alone.87 Significantly, residue analysis of ceramics has yielded proof of the use of dairy products at Tell Sabi Abyad and elsewhere at this time.88 These diverse changes probably helped to mitigate the environmental effects of the climate shift, although many novelties may not have been intentionally achieved; instead, they may have been the unforeseen yet beneficial result of other coping mechanisms.89

86. Baird 2012: 435–​436. 87. Russell 2010. 88. Evershed et al. 2008; Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2015. 89. Akkermans et al. 2006: 153; Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2016.

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1.5.2  Sixth-​millennium settlement Settlement types differed widely across the Near East during this period. In central Anatolia, the sites of Canhasan and Çatalhöyük West (ca. 6000–​5400 bc) both contained large two-​story houses with painted walls and floors and extensive storage facilities. The settlement at Haçilar had a series of closely packed, two-​room buildings in its western part, whereas the eastern part included workshops and other structures related to pottery production. Shifting to sites in the southeastern Anatolian highland, they closely adhered to developments in Syria and Iraq in the sixth to fifth millennia. In the aftermath of the climate event, Mesopotamia had many villages of different layouts and extent. Tell Sabi Abyad consisted of extensive, closely spaced rectangular granaries and storehouses surrounded by numerous small, round dwellings, which all ended in a conflagration ca. 6000 bc. Rich inventories have been recovered from the burned buildings, including several hundred clay sealings that were originally on the fasteners of ceramics, baskets, and stone vessels.90 Located on a Tigris River terrace some 100 km north of Baghdad, Tell as-​Sawwan in the early sixth millennium is noted for its large tripartite houses and T-​shaped “granaries” in the central area of the site; these were surrounded by a thick, buttressed, mud-​brick wall and ditch. Settlements like these provided facilities (e.g., production, storage, exchange, social engagements) not only to their own sedentary populations but also to pastoralist groups in the surrounding steppe environments. The isolated site Umm Dabaghiyah lies in the marginal country west of Hatra in Iraq; it very likely was a seasonally used storage point for a (semi)nomadic group involved in the exploitation of onagers and gazelles.91 Between 6000 and 5300 bc, much of Syria, Iraq, and southeastern Anatolia can be associated with the “Halaf Culture,” which takes its name from the site of Tell Halaf on the Syro-​Turkish border. The related sites (and the typical painted pottery) were found as far east as the Zagros

90. Akkermans and Duistermaat 1997. 91. Akkermans and Verhoeven 1995; Bréniquet 1991.

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range and as far west as the Mediterranean. While the coastal sites had rectangular structures, the interior regions predominantly had round houses with or without an antechamber. Usually the settlements in the interior also had a few sizable rectangular buildings consisting of very small, cellular rooms, which probably served as communal granaries or storehouses. A number of sites were perhaps used for seasonal encampment, with architecture only present in a shifting, haphazard manner (such as at Kharabeh Shattani in northern Iraq) or barely perceptible (like at Damishliyya and Umm Qseir in Syria).92 Circular buildings also occurred in the settlements in the Levant, although in less prominent numbers. At Sha’ar Hagolan and elsewhere in the Levant, there was another new form of architecture, the “courtyard houses.” These had a series of rooms for living and storage inside of a large, enwalled yard. Differences in the numbers of rooms per building, ranging from two to twenty-​four rooms, may relate to their use by either nuclear or extended families. At Sha’ar Hagolan, streets and alleys paved with pebbles and ca. 1–​3 m wide appear to divide the settlement into an alignment of spatially discrete, perhaps kin-​related quarters. Such arrangements may suggest concerns with privacy, property, and the recognition of family groups.93 In addition to the ubiquitous small villages, 1–​2 ha in extent, there were a few larger settlements in each region. For example, Domuztepe in southeastern Turkey reached a size of some 20 ha in the mid-​sixth millennium bc, inhabited by perhaps fifteen hundred to two thousand people. Sha’ar Hagolan, covering some 15 ha ca. 6400–​5700 bc, was the largest settlement in the southern Levant and is assumed to have displayed “early signs of urban concepts.”94 However, these larger sites may in fact have been palimpsests of several smaller settlements, tied to the same location.95 Stuart Campbell has pointed out that the impressive size of Domuztepe did not imply any sustained societal transformation or 92. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003. 93. Ben-​Shlomo and Garfinkel 2009. 94. Ben-​Shlomo and Garfinkel 2009. 95. Akkermans et  al. 2006; Campbell 2012; Akkermans 2013; Goring-​Morris and Belfer-​Cohen  2014.

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“proto-​town” development; after it was deserted, no large sites occurred in that region for more than a thousand years.96 Although there is material evidence for ritual in the sixth-​millennium settlements (burials, figurines), there is a remarkable (and still poorly understood) lack of special cult architecture. Ritual took place mainly within the intimate confines of the private house, rather than at the public level as was characteristic of earlier periods. This observation is consistent with the contemporary preference for small and dispersed groups in short-​lived settlements. Many sites in Upper Mesopotamia were probably never occupied by more than two to three families, while breaks in their sequences argue for interruptions and frequent shifts of occupation. Mobility across the landscape and a continually fluctuating settlement pattern were important to sixth-​millennium populations in Mesopotamia.97

1.5.3  Subsistence Most communities in this period were fully committed to agriculture and continued to cultivate wheat, barley, lentils, field peas, chickpeas, bitter vetch, and flax. Animal husbandry relied on sheep and goats and to a lesser extent on cattle and pigs, both of the latter being new domesticates in the seventh millennium. Significantly, many large sites were in locales that do not match our preconceptions of what might be optimal for agriculture. For example, much of the area around Çatalhöyük and Domuztepe in Turkey was uncultivable. Clearly the selection of places for settlement was not a purely economic matter but equally had to fit other social and ideological values.98 While earlier Neolithic settlements did not actively manage agricultural soil, this may have changed in the sixth millennium, when there is evidence for terracing and possibly manure fertilizing in the Dhra’

96. Campbell 2012: 425. 97. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003. 98. Fairbairn 2005; Whitcher Kansa et al. 2009.

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region south of the Dead Sea.99 The expansion of settlement beyond well-​watered river valleys probably required some degree of sustained water control in the form of waterholes and wells that could access deeper water tables. It comes as no surprise that wells were a frequent feature of early village sites in many parts of the Near East. Cylindrical, stone-​lined shaft wells about 2 m in diameter and at least 8 m deep were uncovered at Mylouthkia and Shillourokambos on Cyprus, ca. 8000 bc. Similar installations were found at the seventh-​to sixth-​millennium sites of Atlit Yam and Sha’ar Hagolan in Israel, and at Khirbet Garsour and Arpachiyah in northern Iraq.100 Substantial debate focuses on the nature of pastoralism in this period. Some researchers suggest the presence of limited pastoralism in close relation to the sedentary communities, while others emphasize forms of transhumance, including small ephemeral camps used by specialized (semi)nomadic pastoralists on their seasonal treks. The exploitation of an ever more extensive area, including remote and marginal steppe regions, may reflect an increasing reliance on animal husbandry as a way to accumulate wealth and status and to control the relations of production.101 From roughly 6200 bc onward, sheep and goats were kept increasingly for renewable secondary products, in particular milk and wool. A broader exploitation of animals than for meat alone is also inferred from the evidence at a range of sites for spinning and weaving and the storage of dairy products.102 This step of diversifying the subsistence strategy was the early foundation of the highly intensified and specialized secondary-​product exploitation that is seen in the cities in Mesopotamia and elsewhere in the fourth millennium.103

99. Kuijt et al. 2007. 100. Campbell 1998; Garfinkel et al. 2006. 101. See, for example, Levy 1998 and Grigson 1998 on pastoralism in the Levant, and Akkermans and Schwartz 2003 on pastoralism in Mesopotamia. 102. Grigson 2006; Evershed et al. 2008; Russell 2010. 103. Sherratt 1983.

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In contrast to the larger, permanent villages in which the use of domestic resources was predominant, many of the small, short-​lived settlements relied heavily on the exploitation of wild resources. Game was highly abundant at several tiny sixth-​millennium sites in Syria and Iraq, where up to two-​thirds of the faunal assemblages recovered in excavations derive from wild animals. In the Levant, hunting was a minor contribution to the communities’ economy, as also suggested by the scarcity of flint arrowheads. At ‘Ain Ghazal, the hunt increasingly focused on gazelle and onager—​animals of the steppe, rather than of typical Mediterranean maquis and forest.104

1.5.4  The treatment of the dead To a very large extent, the dead were buried next to their family houses. In the previous millennia the evidence for separate, formal graveyards is slim, and most of the dead were buried underneath house floors or isolated in the ruins of abandoned buildings; around 6500 bc, these cemeteries occur at places like Hakemi Use in southeastern Anatolia, Tell el-​Kerkh in western Syria, and Tell Sabi Abyad in northern Syria. The latter site yielded several hundred burials in seven superimposed graveyards in roughly the same location, dated to ca. 6500–​5800 bc. The graves demonstrate a bewildering mortuary complexity, including single, primary burials, with the deceased in a crouched position in a simple pit; multiple interments; skull burials; secondary graves; and child remains within a ceramic vessel. Roughly half of the deceased were accompanied by grave goods, composed mainly of pottery but also animal bone, personal ornaments, and stone and bone tools (see figure 1.5).105 More complex treatment of the dead also occurred, such as a number of burials in association with intentionally burned buildings at Tell Sabi Abyad and the extensive funerary deposit at Domuztepe dubbed the “Death Pit.” This deposit comprised the fragmentary, disarticulated 104. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003 and references therein; Rollefson 2001 and references therein. 105. Akkermans 2008; Plug et al. 2014. See also Akkermans and Schwartz 2003.

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Figure 1.5:  Skeletal remains of a young woman, in her early twenties at time of death, unearthed in the late Neolithic graveyard at Tell Sabi Abyad in Syria, ca. 5800 bc. She was surrounded by painted pottery and stone vessels. Photo by P. Akkermans (Tell Sabi Abyad Project).

remains of at least forty individuals, with strong indications of sacrifice and cannibalism.106 Burials at Bouqras in Syria and Arpachiyah in Iraq provided evidence for the artificial deformation of human crania by bandages, probably for body adornment.107

1.5.5  Early pottery in the Near East The firing of clay to produce durable, portable vessels was an important (pyro)technological development that came into widespread use in the Near East from about 7000 bc onward. Early attempts at making ceramics occurred sporadically in much earlier habitations dated to the late ninth and early eighth millennia bc, such as at Boncuklu in Anatolia,

106. Akkermans 2008; Kansa et al. 2009. 107. Meiklejohn et al. 1992; Molleson and Campbell 1995.

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Kfar HaHoresh in Israel and, probably, Ganj Dareh in Iran. However, their use and distribution was intermittent and short-​lived, perhaps for specific occasions only.108 The distribution of pottery manufacturing did not occur everywhere at the same time but happened in the form of (repeated) invention, imitation, and emulation.109 While there was a proliferation of pottery along the northern and northwestern fringes of the Fertile Crescent ca. 7000–​6700 bc, it appeared in the southern Levant only several centuries later. Significantly, the earliest ceramics in Upper Mesopotamia comprised limited quantities of handmade, often painted pots, which were exchanged over hundreds of kilometers. Perhaps these exotic vessels carried important ritual or prestige value by visually establishing and maintaining social relationships beyond the local sphere.110 Communities undoubtedly differed in the degree to which they were able or willing to participate in the exchange networks through which the vessels could be acquired. The ceramic craft and the practices it stood for may not have been relevant to each and every community, and some groups may have ignored or even intentionally rejected them.111 The sustained, routine production of pottery after 6700 bc was characterized by a great variety of ceramic fabric, shape, size, and decoration. The vessels served for the preparation and consumption of food and drink or were used for storage. The use of pottery for dairy products and animal fats and its role in the process of beer brewing have been cited as some of the main incentives for its adoption.112 The dietary impact of thoroughly cooked and softened food (cf. section 1.4.3) was evident at Tell Abu Hureyra, where the use of cooking pots led to a sharp reduction in the wear on human teeth.113 From 6500 bc onward, vessels were also

108. Biton et al. 2014; Fletcher et al. 2017. 109. Campbell 2017; Bernbeck 2017. 110. Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2010. See also Fletcher et al. 2017: 11–​14. 111. Campbell 2017; Bernbeck 2017. 112. Katz and Voigt 1986; Nieuwenhuyse et al. 2015; Fletcher et al. 2017. 113. Molleson 2000: 309.

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Figure 1.6:  Early Halaf pottery bowl found in a grave at Tell Sabi Abyad in Syria. This kind of vessel with intricately painted decoration is typical of Syria and Iraq in the sixth millennium. Photo by P.  Akkermans (Tell Sabi Abyad Project).

regularly placed in the graves of adults and children as part of the funerary ritual. By the late seventh millennium bc there was a proliferation of symbolic expression across settlements in the Near East, seen in the ever-​ increasing proportion of delicately painted vessels. The many local traditions gave rise to distinct pottery styles, which were sometimes distributed over regions larger than modern states.114 The sixth-​millennium Halaf ceramics (see figure 1.6) have recently been discussed as an early example of “globalizing tendencies” in the prehistoric Near East with regard to their extraordinary spatial range (over an area of more than 1,000 sq km) and their prominent role in interregional interaction, connecting peoples at scales never realized before.115 The distribution of

114. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 149. 115. Nieuwenhuyse 2017.

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ceramics almost certainly did not coincide with ethnic boundaries or a single society or culture. Both the ethnographic and archaeological records have made it clear that discrete and neatly bound artifact distributions rarely occur. Instead, items constantly move between different social groupings and create social configurations much larger than the small villages and face-​to-​face communities usually studied by anthropologists and archaeologists.116

1.6.  Emergent complex society in late prehistory, ca. 5500–​4000 bc While many continuities in settlement and other cultural traits were occurring in the later sixth millennium bc, archaeological research has emphasized the importance of the fifth millennium as a time of change in sociopolitical organization and craft production. The earlier emphasis on mobility weakened in favor of a growing attachment to place and the creation of new networks of regional and local identities and alliances. In this period the earliest communities were present in the southern Mesopotamian lowlands, in association with an intensified agricultural production through irrigation. The use of animals for their secondary products, which had started in the late seventh millennium, now became of key relevance in the diversification of the economy. Craft specialization, in particular metallurgy, increased in volume and technological elaboration and often relied on long-​distance resource procurement. Rowan and Golden suggested that agricultural intensification created the opportunities for greater investment in craft production, to the advantage of emerging elites and hierarchical social constructs.117

116. For example, Hodos 2017. 117. Rowan and Golden 2009.

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1.6.1  Settlement and architecture In the southern Levant, extensive “courtyard houses” continued to be built, broadly similar from the Golan to the Negev. At Tell Tsaf (ca. 5200–​4600 bc), the compounds were over 250 sq m, consisting of rectangular one-​or two-​roomed dwellings, circular animal corrals, and many circular grain silos 1–​4 m across, all grouped within walled yards. Elsewhere storage was also in large pottery vessels sunk into house floors or in pits lined with stones or bricks (e.g., at Tell Kitan, Abu Hamid, and Gilat). The size and number of the storage spaces suggest very substantial storage capacities within the boundaries of the house and probably imply an uneven accumulation of surplus and wealth in at least some households.118 Significantly, similar information about the differentiation between wealthier and poorer households on the basis of private storage comes from contemporary settlements of the Ubaid cultural horizon (see further below in this section) in the river valleys and plains of Mesopotamia. Several sites in Syria and Iraq had freestanding granaries related to nearby houses, suggesting that each household had its own grain storage. At Kosak Shamali on the Euphrates, hundreds of ceramic vessels were found in one room, while charred cereals suggest that other rooms were used for bulk food storage.119 There were numerous late prehistoric settlements of different sizes in the Levant, several of which, such as Teleilat Ghassul and Tell Abu Hamid in Jordan, had developed into substantial settlements by the late fifth millennium, with large two-​story buildings within walled compounds. Teleilat Ghassul also provided evidence for rooms with plastered walls carrying polychrome painted designs and symbols. Elsewhere in the region there were also more unusual arrangements, such as the underground rooms and tunnels dug into the bedrock at a number of sites in the Negev (e.g., Bir as-​Safadi, Shiqmim). These “troglodyte” dwellings, some with pits in the floors or interior bins built with low walls, may reflect concerns over security, but more likely they offered

118. Garfinkel et al. 2009. 119. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003.

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protection against the seasonal temperature extremes and the local arid environment. Another unusual type of settlement is found in the Golan, where there were rectangular structures measuring about 15 × 5 m and built end to end as “house chains.”120 From the later sixth millennium bc are the earliest sedentary settlements on the alluvial plains of southern Iraq. In this region, where the average annual rainfall is less than 150  mm, agriculture requires the use of canal irrigation from the Euphrates and Tigris. Tell al-​‘Oueili is the earliest known site on these alluvial plains and is located close to the Persian Gulf; it has evidence of irrigated crops such as barley and of the use of extensive granaries for storing surplus.121 The settling of the Mesopotamian Plain is associated with a culture horizon known as “Ubaid,” after the eponymous site in southern Iraq. At first, sites of Ubaid type were confined to the region south of Baghdad, but between roughly 5000 and 4200 bc Ubaid material culture spread through exchange and, perhaps, migrations over an area of unprecedented scope, extending from southwestern Iran to Syria and southeastern Anatolia.122 The typical pottery has also been identified at scores of predominantly coastal sites in the eastern regions of Saudi Arabia, in Bahrain, and in Qatar. Recent evidence, including boat remains and representations of boats, indicates an extensive maritime exchange between the communities of southern Mesopotamia and those of eastern Arabia.123 While many sites of the preceding period existed for only a short duration, even the smallest settlements of the Ubaid period often remained in use for several centuries. The earlier mobile pastoralist lifestyles were increasingly replaced by permanent settlements in specific locales. This emphasis on permanence and continuity of settlement may have resulted in the recognition of ancestral territories and properties, which later was one of the pillars of later political grouping. Although

120. Perrot 1984; Levy 1998; Epstein 1998. 121. Huot 1989; 1994. 122. Carter and Philip 2010. 123. Carter 2006.

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most Ubaid occupied areas were 1 ha or less in extent, there were in each region also a few large settlements covering as much as 20 ha. Some of these had sustained use over sometimes lengthy time frames (into the Uruk and Bronze Age periods), such as Tell Brak in northeastern Syria and Nineveh in Iraq. As we have highlighted for the earlier periods (cf. sections 1.4 and 1.5.2), a large site area does not necessarily imply extensive settlement or dense population. For example, Tell Abada in northern Iraq comprises 3 ha, but the area occupied had seven to ten houses over an area of less than 1 ha, with an estimated population of 70–​120 persons.124 Around 4800–​4200 bc, Tell Abada is also known for its well-​ preserved and elaborately finished tripartite architecture, characteristic of the Ubaid settlements in Mesopotamia. The buildings, up to 200 sq m in area, consisted of a central T-​shaped or cruciform hall with one or more hearths and was flanked by parallel rows of smaller rooms on the two long sides. The houses were large enough to accommodate an extended family as well as a wide range of domestic activities under one roof. It comes as no surprise that the debut of this new architectural form coincided with the dissolution of the circular building tradition, which had promoted a dispersal of households over several small, single-​ roomed round structures. It has been suggested that the spacious tripartite structures reflected a new social and work ethic, in which domestic activities were increasingly conducted within the house and women in particular were separated from the whole of the village.125 With regard to the domestic architecture, the tripartite layout was largely abandoned in favor of more irregular agglomerations of buildings by the end of the fifth millennium. Significantly, however, it was preserved in ceremonial public architecture, in the form of temples with a large central hall, provided with altars, offering tables, niches, and buttresses. Retaining the traditional tripartite plan (which as we have seen had its origins in northern Syria and Iraq in the seventh millennium

124. Jasim 1985. 125. Wengrow 1998; Forest 1996.

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bc) for ritual buildings was done for a good reason: while the temples primarily had ceremonial merits, they were also vital to emerging elites striving for power. The temple institutions probably had great manipulative qualities: “[C]‌hiefs as priests or sponsors of local sanctuaries would be able to mobilize large surpluses and labor and, just as significantly, to gain sacred validation for their own political position. It is not without importance that, in contrast to ordinary houses, temples and large residences retained the centuries-​old tripartite building tradition. The past was not forgotten but given a different meaning:  it was used to legitimize the new and intimately-​mingled secular and sacred offices.”126 Ritual architecture is also evidenced elsewhere. The site of Ein Gedi, situated on a promontory overlooking the Dead Sea, consists of a single, enclosed compound with a distinct gate and two broad-​roomed buildings of different sizes inside. The site is widely considered to be a place for ritual activity because of the bounded nature of the architecture, the pits with burned animal horn cores, the pedestaled and fenestrated bowls, a possible “altar” area in one of the buildings, and the absence of typical domestic debris. Another regional cult and pilgrimage center, associated with death and burial, is Gilat, with its 12 ha complex of large buildings around a plaza, located on the edge of the Negev and the coastal plain. In contrast to typical settlement sites, Gilat (ca. 4800–​4300 bc) had a very high burial density, including a dog grave with a unique ceramic vessel as a mortuary good; steles; pits with both fenestrated pottery and burned animal bone; and extensive assemblages of, presumably, ritually charged objects. The latter group of objects comprised ceramic and basalt fenestrated stands as well as zoomorphic and anthropomorphic statuettes; the most famous of these is the “Lady of Gilat,” a ceramic seated female with a butter churn on her head and another object under her arm, often taken as the embodiment of a goddess. The site of Teleilat Ghassul in Jordan also hosted a group of large, broad-​roomed buildings containing altars, offering pits, and elaborate wall paintings, concentrated in what has been interpreted as a temple precinct.127 126. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 180. See also Akkermans 1989. 127. Ussishkin 1980; Alon and Levy 1989; Bourke 2001; Rowan and Ilan 2007.

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1.6.2  Cemeteries and burial caves Burials provide an evident expression of ritual and belief. Extensive, formal burial grounds, emphasizing notions of group identity and territoriality, were a main characteristic of the fifth-​millennium settlements in Mesopotamia, such as Kashkashok in Syria and Arpachiyah and Tepe Gawra in northern Iraq. When compared with earlier periods, the graves had become more standardized. They were all primary inhumations (secondary burial was no longer practiced in Mesopotamia), containing a single individual in a contracted position. Most graves were simple pits, but more elaborately constructed mud-​brick tombs were also in use. Infants were often interred in medium-​sized pots, sometimes topped by a lid. Some of the graves intrude on earlier ones, but most must have been marked and their positions respected, indicating that the dead were remembered and still part of the community. Many of the dead were provided with grave goods, usually pottery but sometimes jewelry or other artifacts. So far, little has been reported on the age and gender of the buried individuals, but it is likely that age was relevant with regard to the variety and number of mortuary goods.128 The meager burial sample in the Levant in the sixth millennium bc seems to continue earlier traditions, while radical new funerary practices made their debut in the fifth millennium. Extending about 1 km onto the hilltops above the site, the cemetery at Shiqmim had more than one hundred stone circles for secondary burial (including ossuaries), and stone cists for, presumably, defleshing of the dead prior to burial. Another innovation in the mid-​fifth millennium was the conversion of natural caves into tombs, for instance at Nahal Qanah and Peqi’in. The caves contained dozens of secondary, disarticulated burials, mostly in association with ceramic ossuaries, which varied from simple to elaborately decorated and modeled.129 There were often rich and diverse mortuary goods, including fenestrated, pedestaled bowls and other pottery; basalt vessels; stone mace heads; ivory pieces; jewelry; and copper artifacts.

128. Akkermans 1989; Akkermans and Schwartz 2003. 129. See the review by Rowan and Golden 2009.

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From the Nahal Qanah cave came unique gold ingots, which may suggest links to sources in Nubia.

1.6.3 Intensified agriculture Nearly everywhere, fifth-​millennium communities were closely tied to the mixed farming economy, with the usual domestic crop plants and animals. In Anatolia and the Levant, subsistence was much the same as before, although in the more arid regions in southern Jordan and the Sinai the emphasis was on both pastoralism and foraging. Olives were collected in the wild in the sixth millennium, but their intense, domestic exploitation for oil probably began in the Levant ca. 4800–​4400 bc. Evidence of other fruits and nuts in this period includes fig, date, peach, pomegranate, almond, walnut, and pistachio. In addition, Nahal Mishmar yielded garlic and onion traces. Settlements increasingly relied on secondary products, with caprines and cattle contributing milk and wool. Bone pathologies on cattle may indicate that they had begun to serve as draft animals as well. The use of pack animals is also suggested by pottery statuary from Ein Gedi and Gilat, in the form of animals laden with churns.130 The employment of animals for bulk transport will have greatly facilitated the extension and scale of trade networks. A groundbreaking innovation was the development of irrigation-​ based agriculture in Mesopotamia and adjacent southwestern Iran, which allowed for the settling and exploitation of the alluvial plains and acted as a basis for the subsequent urban developments in the region. Both paleobotanical evidence and channels in the form of shallow, broad depressions imply that irrigation was employed in the lowlands as early as 6000 bc. The sixth-​millennium mound of Chogha Mami in eastern Iraq yielded traces of channels for irrigation both in archaeological sections and on the ground surface. The earlier channels were some 2 m in width and 50 cm deep, but later, fifth-​millennium irrigation was also evident in the form of channels 4–​6 m wide. Tony Wilkinson suggested

130. Rowan and Golden 2009 and references therein.

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that the irrigation system in the Deh Luran area of southwestern Iran evolved from smaller channels (perhaps 4–​6 km in length) in the sixth millennium to larger channels (of 10–​12 km length) in the late fourth to early third millennia. The increase in the scale of the irrigation systems seems to correspond with expanding population levels in the area in this period.131

1.6.4 Craft specialization The contemporary pottery repertoire shows a wide diversity from one area to another in factors such as shape, decoration, and technology. Many regional stylistic traditions developed, implying an ever-​increasing emphasis on local autonomy and identity. In Anatolia, the southeastern regions tended to closely adhere to contemporary Ubaid developments in Mesopotamia, while other parts of Anatolia maintained a varying degree of interaction with the Aegean, the Balkans, and the Caucasus. It comes as no surprise that there was a distinct regionalism in the ceramic traditions, in particular on the central Anatolian plateau.132 A  similar development is evident in the Levant. While the pots of the late sixth millennium bc were still handmade, with a limited range of shapes and sizes, production changed significantly in the fifth millennium, when there was a marked increase in forms, decoration, and quality. In addition to the typical domestic assemblage, churns used for dairy products appeared, as did the pedestaled, fenestrated stands so characteristic of ritual contexts. “Torpedo jars” served as olive oil containers. The pottery was made by hand or by wheel, with the prevalence of either technique differing from one region to another.133 The Ubaid-​type settlements of Mesopotamia used delicately painted pottery in great abundance for hundreds of years, but the emphasis shifted to undecorated pots by the close of the fifth millennium.

131. Wilkinson 2003: 72–​73. 132. Schoop 2005. 133. Rowan and Golden 2009.

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Economic considerations were probably relevant to this change, aimed at cheap and efficient, large-​scale production, including the use of a slow turning device.134 Many Ubaid sites provide evidence for local manufacture, as shown by potter’s tools, workshops, kilns, and ceramic waste. The scale of production was clearly considerable, meeting the local demands easily, with little or no need for imports from elsewhere. Significantly, the declining role of decoration on Ubaid pots was balanced by an unprecedented variety of vessel shapes in different fabrics. In the Levant and Anatolia we see a similar increase in the diversity of ceramic forms, which has been interpreted as a level of incipient craft specialization. By the onset of the fourth millennium at the latest, pottery production had shifted from an intermittent activity to a continuous enterprise in the hands of professionals.135 While Anatolian and Mesopotamian sites have provided very little evidence for the use of metals until the fourth millennium, there is an astounding wealth of data for metallurgy in the southern Levant from ca. 4200 bc onward. Unequivocal evidence for the local smelting of copper ores, including ceramic crucibles, slag, and furnaces, comes from Shiqmim and Abu Matar. Although the ore sources are still debated, the copper may stem from the Timna region or the Wadi Faynan area in southern Jordan. The sophisticated nature of Levantine metal industries is epitomized by over four hundred copper objects identified from the “Cave of the Treasure” on the Dead Sea. The finds consist of copper cult objects produced by casting and hammering, including mace heads, scepters, “crowns,” and other intricate items, decorated with complex geometric and zoomorphic iconography. Although the cache is usually attributed to the first quarter of the fourth millennium, more recent radiocarbon dates allow for an earlier date in the late fifth millennium bc. Finds at the burial cave of Nahal Qanah add to the discussion of the technological advancement and early date of Levantine metalworking.

134. Akkermans 1988; Akkermans and Schwartz 2003. 135. Akkermans 1988; Kerner 2001.

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Associated with a number of burials here were copper artifacts and eight gold ingots, perhaps from sources in Nubia.136 Other artifact assemblages that probably were the products of specialized artisans include ivory figurines and stone vessels. The raw materials for these exotic items were obtained through long-​distance exchange, while specific knowledge was required of how to work them. A group of vessels at Hagoshrim in Israel was made of chlorite, brought to the site from distant sources in either Syria, Anatolia, or Cyprus.137 Rowan and Ilan have argued that the distribution of the more exotic and sophisticated commodities is characterized not only by their presence in low numbers but also by their predominant occurrence in nondomestic, ceremonial contexts (mortuary deposits, caches). Hence, production may have been done by skilled craftspeople on an ad hoc basis for ritual occasions.138

1.6.5  Social hierarchies and political power In the Levant, the first-​ranked social hierarchies are said to occur in the (late) fifth millennium bc, with reference to, for example, the presence of sophisticated metallurgy, craft specialization (stoneworking, ivory), and wealthy tombs in caves. The rich copper hoard from the Cave of the Treasure, in particular, argues strongly in favor of differentiated access to resources.139 However, evidence for these indicators of status and prestige is primarily restricted to ritual contexts and is not found across all regions of the southern Levant. The formation of explicit elites was still weakly developed, although an intensification of economic activity (including an increase in household storage) and an uneven accumulation of surplus and wealth by at least some households is unmistakable.140

136. Bar-​Adon 1980; Gopher 1996; Rowan and Golden 2009. 137. Rosenberg et al. 2010. 138. Rowan and Ilan 2007. See also Rowan and Golden 2009. 139. Levy 1998. 140. Bourke 2001; Rowan and Gold 2009.

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Evidence for social differentiation in Anatolia and Mesopotamia is also meager. Tell Kurdu had a large (10 × 9 m) building on a platform placed high up on the southern summit of the mound, which perhaps represented a form of elite architecture. With regard to the sites in central Anatolia, Douglas Baird suggested that households competed in various ways, from house differentiation and artifact variability to the accumulation of exotic commodities.141 In Iraq and Syria, most communities were too small to permit a great deal of social ranking. There is hardly any proof for architectural differentiation or overt displays of authority in these villages, although a single large building at Tell Abada is often viewed as a chiefly residence. Most burials in this period imply no structured ranking or hierarchy until the fourth millennium, when we see an unequal exposure of wealth in graves, as at Tepe Gawra in Iraq. In this perspective, the Mesopotamian communities remained relatively egalitarian for a long period of time, with leadership being temporary and situational.142 Another approach interprets the archaeological record differently, contending that the Mesopotamian communities consisted of small, localized chiefdoms with power based on ritually mobilized tribute.143 In this scenario, chiefly elites emerged from groups that had access to favorable agricultural resources, and further expansions of power were pursued through the manipulation of community institutions (in the form of temple sponsorship), in return for portions of the community labor pool and surplus staples. The ability to extract these tributes was greatly enhanced when this was embedded in concepts of communal ideology and ritual. The strength of the chiefdom model has increasing merits at the end of the fifth millennium, when there is evidence for scales of sociopolitical complexity not seen before, culminating in the urban-​style agglomerations and the rise of formal temple institutions in the Uruk period. This topic is explored in detail in ­chapter 3 on the Uruk phenomenon.

141. Baird 2012. 142. Hole 1983; Akkermans 1989. 143. Stein 1994; Pollock 1999; Akkermans and Schwartz 2003.

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Gebel, H.G. 2006. The domestication of vertical space: the case of steep-​slope LPPNB architecture in southern Jordan. In Banning, E.B. and Chazan, M. (eds.), Domesticating space: construction, community, and cosmology in the late prehistoric Near East. Berlin: ex oriente, 65–​74. Goldberg, P. and Rosen, A. M. 1987. Early Holocene paleoenvironments of Israel. In Levy, T.E. (ed.), Shiqmim I. Oxford: Archaeopress, 22–​33. Gopher, A. (ed.) 1996. The Nahal Qanah cave:  earliest gold in the southern Levant. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University. Goring-​Morris, N. and Belfer-​Cohen, A. 2010. “Great expectations,” or the inevitable collapse of the Early Neolithic in the Near East. In Bandy, M.S. and Fox, J.R. (eds.), Becoming villagers:  comparing early village societies. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 62–​77. Goring-​ Morris, N. and Belfer-​ Cohen, A. 2014. The southern Levant (Cisjordan) during the Neolithic period. In Steiner, M. and Killebrew, A. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of the archaeology of the Levant, c. 8000–​332 bce. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 147–​169. Goring-​Morris, N. and Horwitz, L.K. 2007. Funerals and feasts during the Pre-​Pottery Neolithic B of the Near East. Antiquity 81: 902–​919. Grigson, C. 1998. Plough and pasture in the early economy of the southern Levant. In Levy, T.E. (ed.), The archaeology of society in the Holy Land. London: Leicester University Press, 245–​268. Grigson, C.  2006. Farming? Feasting? Herding? Large mammals from the Chalcolithic of Gilat. In Levy, T.E. (ed.), Archaeology of cult: the sanctuary at Gilat, Israel. London: Equinox, 215–​319. Grissom, C.A. 2000. Neolithic statues from ‘Ain Ghazal:  construction and form. AJA 104: 25–​45. Groube, L. 1996. The impact of diseases upon the emergence of agriculture. In Harris, D.R. (ed.), The origins and spread of agriculture and pastoralism in Eurasia. London: UCL Press, 101–​129. Hassan, F.A. 2009. Human agency, climate change, and culture: an archaeological perspective. In Crate, S.A. and Nuttal, M. (eds.), Anthropology and climate change: from encounters to actions. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press,  39–​69. Hauptmann, H. 1988. Nevalı Çori: Architektur. Anatolica 15: 99–​110. Hauptmann, H. 1993. Ein Kultgebäude in Nevalı Çori. In Frangipane, M., Hauptmann, H., Liverani, M., Matthiae, P. and Mellink, M. (eds.),

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Between the rivers and over the mountains. Rome: Università di Roma ‘La Sapienza’,  37–​69. Hauptmann, H. 1999. The Urfa region. In Özdoğan, M. and Başgelen, N. (eds.), Neolithic in Turkey. Ankara: Arkeoloji ve Sanat Yayınları, 65–​86. Henry, D.O. 2014. Pulling it all together:  answers to many questions. In Henry, D.O. and Beaver, J.E. (eds.), The sands of time: the desert Neolithic settlement at Ayn Abu Nukhayla. Berlin: ex oriente, 315–​345. Hodder, I. 2011. Çatalhöyük: a prehistoric settlement on the Konya plain. In Steadman, S.R. and McMahon, G. (eds.), Ancient Anatolia, 10,000–​323 B.C.E. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 934–​949. Hodder, I. and Pels, P. 2010. History houses: a new interpretation of architectural elaboration at Çatalhöyük. In Hodder, I. (ed.), Religion in the emergence of civilization:  Çatalhöyük as a case study. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 163–​186. Hodos, T. (ed.) 2017. The Routledge handbook of archaeology and globalization. London and New York: Routledge. Hole, F.1983. Symbols of religion and social organization at Susa. In Young, T.C., Smith, P.E.L. and Mortensen, P. (eds.), The hilly flanks and beyond:  essays on the prehistory of southwestern Asia. Chicago:  Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 315–​333. Hole, F. 2000. Is size important? Function and hierarchy in Neolithic settlements. In Kuijt, I. (ed.), Life in Neolithic farming communities: social organization, identity, and differentiation. New York: Plenum Press, 191–​209. Holzer, A., Avner, U., Porat, N. and Kolska Horwitz, L. 2010. Desert kites in the Negev and northeast Sinai: their function, chronology and ecology. Journal of Arid Environments 74: 806–​817. Huot, J.-​L. 1989. ‘Ubaidian villages of lower Mesopotamia: permanence and evolution from the ‘Ubaid 0 to ‘Ubaid 4 as seen from Tell el ‘Oueili. In Henrickson, E.F. and Thuesen, I. (eds.), Upon this foundation: the ‘Ubaid reconsidered. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 18–​42. Huot, J.-​L. 1992. The first farmers at Oueili. BA 55: 188–​195. Huot, J.-​L. 1994. Les premiers villageois de Mésopotamie. Paris: Armand Colllin. Ingold, T. 1996. Growing plants and raising animals: an anthropological perspective on domestication. In Harris, D.R. (ed.), The origins and spread of agriculture and pastoralism in Eurasia. London: UCL Press, 12–​24. Jasim, S.A. 1985. The Ubaid period in Iraq. Oxford:  British Archaeological Reports 267.

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Kansa, S.W., Gauld, S.C., Campbell, S. and Carter, E. 2009. Whose bones are those? Preliminary comparative analysis of fragmented human and animal bones in the “Death Pit” at Domuztepe, a Late Neolithic settlement in southeastern Turkey. Anthropozoologica 44: 159–​172. Katz, S.H. and Voigt, M.M. 1986. Bread and beer: the early use of cereals in the human diet. Expedition 28: 23–​34. Kerner, S. 2001. Das Chalkolithikum in der südlichen Levante. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Kislev, M.E., Hartmann, A. and Bar-​Yosef, O. 2006. Early domesticated fig in the Jordan valley. Science 312: 1372–​1374. Kozłowski, S.K. 2002. Nemrik:  an aceramic village in northern Iraq. Warsaw: Warsaw University. Kuijt, I. 2000. People and space in early agricultural villages: exploring daily lives, community size, and architecture in the Late Pre-​Pottery Neolithic. JAA 19: 75–​102. Kuijt, I. 2008. Demography and storage systems during the southern Levantine Neolithic demographic transition. In Bocquet-​Appel, J.-​P. and Bar-​Yosef, O. (eds.), The Neolithic demographic transition and its consequences. New York: Springer, 287–​313. Kuijt, I. and Finlayson, B. 2009. Evidence for food storage and pre-​ domestication granaries 11,000  years ago in the Jordan valley. PNAS 106: 10966–​10970. Kuijt, I., Finlayson, B. and MacKay, J. 2007. Pottery Neolithic landscape modification at Dhra. Antiquity 81: 106–​118. Kuijt, I. and Goring-​Morris, N. 2002. Foraging, farming, and social complexity in the Pre-​Pottery Neolithic of the southern Levant: a review and synthesis. JWP 16: 361–​440. Larsen, C.S. 2006. The agricultural revolution as environmental catastrophe: implications for health and lifestyle in the Holocene. QI 150: 12–​20. Latham, K. J. 2013. Human health and the Neolithic revolution: An overview of impacts of the agricultural transition on oral health, epidemiology, and the human body. Nebraska Anthropologist 28: 95–​102. Layton, R., Foley, R. and Williams, E. 1991. The transition between hunting and gathering and the specialized husbandry of resources:  a socio-​ ecological approach. CA 32: 255–​274.

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Nesbitt, M. 2002. When and where did domesticated cereals first occur in southwest Asia? In Cappers, R.T.J. and Bottema, S. (eds.), The dawn of farming in the Near East. Berlin: ex oriente, 113–​132. Nieuwenhuyse, O.P. 2017. Globalizing the Halaf. In Hodos, T. (ed.), The Routledge handbook of archaeology and globalization. London and New York: Routledge, 839–​854. Nieuwenhuyse, O.P., Akkermans, P.M.M.G. and Van der Plicht, J. 2010. Not so coarse, nor always plain: the earliest pottery of Syria. Antiquity 84: 71–​85. Nieuwenhuyse, O.P., Akkermans, P.M.M.G, Van der Plicht, J., Russell, A. and Kaneda, A. 2016. The 8.2 event in Upper Mesopotamia: climate and cultural change. In Biehl, P.F. and Nieuwenhuyse, O.P. (eds.), Climate and cultural change in prehistoric Europe and the Near East. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 67–​93. Nieuwenhuyse, O.P., Roffet-​Salque, M., Evershed, R.P., Akkermans, P.M.M.G. and Russell, A. 2015. Tracing pottery use and the emergence of secondary product exploitation through lipid residue analysis at Late Neolithic Tell Sabi Abyad (Syria). JAS 64: 54–​66. Ortega, D., Ibañez, J.J., Khalidi, L., Mendez, V., Campos, D. and Teira, L. 2014. Towards a multi-​agent-​based modelling of obsidian exchange in the Neolithic Near East. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 21: 461–​485. Özbaşaran, M. 2011. The Neolithic on the plateau. In Steadman, S.R. and McMahon, G. (eds.), Ancient Anatolia, 10,000–​323 B.C.E. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 99–​124. Özbek, M. 1988. Culte des crânes humains à Çayönü. Anatolica 15: 127–​138. Özdoğan M., Basgelen, N. and Kuniholm, P. (eds.), 2011. The Neolithic in Turkey. Istanbul: Archaeology and Art Publications. Özkaya, V. and Coskun, A. 2011. Körtik Tepe. In Özdoğan M., Basgelen, N. and Kuniholm, P. (eds.), The Neolithic in Turkey. Istanbul: Archaeology and Art Publications, 89–​127. Pearce-​Duvet, J.M.C. 2006.The origin of human pathogens:  evaluating the role of agriculture and domestic animals in the evolution of human disease. Biological Reviews 81: 1–​14. Perrot, P. 1984. Structures d’habitat, mode de vie et environnement: les villages souterrains des pasteurs de Beershe´va, dans le sud d’Israel, au IVe millénaire avant l’ère chrétienne. Paléorient 10: 75–​96.

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Peterson, J. 2010. Domesticating gender: Neolithic patterns from the southern Levant. JAS 29: 249–​264. Plug, H., Van der Plicht, J. and Akkermans, P.M.M.G. 2014. Tell Sabi Abyad: dating of Neolithic cemeteries. Radiocarbon 56: 543–​554. Pollock, S. 1999. Ancient Mesopotamia: the Eden that never was. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Prasad, S., Brauer, A., Rein, B. and Negendank, J.F.W. 2006. Rapid climate change during the Early Holocene in western Europe and Greenland. The Holocene 16: 153–​58. Richter, T., Garrard, A.N., Allock, S. and Maher, L.A. 2011. Interaction before agriculture:  exchanging material and sharing knowledge in the Final Pleistocene Levant. CAJ 21: 95–​114. Robb, J. 2013. Material culture, landscapes of action, and emergent causation: a new model for the origins of the European Neolithic. CA 54: 657–​683. Roberts, N. 2002. Did prehistoric landscape management retard the post-​ glacial spread of woodland in southwest Asia? Antiquity 76: 1002–​1010. Roberts, N., Meadows, M.E. and Dodson, J.R. 2001. The history of Mediterranean-​type environments:  climate, culture and landscape. The Holocene 11: 631–​634. Rohling, E.J. and Pälike, H. 2005. Centennial-​scale climate cooling with a sudden cold event around 8,200 years ago. Nature 434: 975–​979. Rollefson, G.O. 1984. Early Neolithic statuary from ‘Ain Ghazal ( Jordan). MDOG 116: 185–​192. Rollefson, G.O. 2001. The Neolithic period. In MacDonald, B., Adams, R. and Bienkowski, P. (eds.), The archaeology of Jordan. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 67–​105. Rollefson, G.O. 2016. Greener pastures:  7th and 6th millennia pastoral potentials in Jordan’s eastern Badia. In Reindel, M., Bartl, K., Lüth, F. and Benecke, N. (eds.), Palaeoenvironment and the development of early settlements. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf, 161–​170. Rosen, A.M. 2007. Civilizing climate: social responses to climate change in the ancient Near East. Lanham, MD: Altamira Press. Rosenberg, D., Getzov, N. and Assaf, A. 2010. New light on long-​distance ties in the Late Neolithic/​Early Chalcolithic Near East. CA 51: 281–​293. Rosenberg, M.  and Erim-​Özdoğan, A.  2011. The Neolithic in southeastern Anatolia. In Steadman, S.R. and McMahon, G. (eds.), Ancient Anatolia, 10,000-​323 B.C.E. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 125–​149.

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Prehistoric Egypt E. Christiana Köhler

2.1. Introduction Egyptian prehistory is a controversial area of research that is experiencing intensive activity. Every year sees not only the publication of new primary data thanks to ongoing excavations, their interpretation, and historical contextualization, but also reviews of old data and interpretations. The rapid increase in knowledge just in recent years is impossible to represent in one brief chapter, but it is important to review the current state of research and to assess what Egyptian prehistory can contribute to the history of the ancient Near East in general, given Egypt’s special position as the first territorial state system. Egypt and the Near East have always been closely enmeshed. This is not only due to the natural land bridge that connects the two continents, which allowed for the dispersal of early and modern humans from Africa to other regions and ultimately facilitated intensive interaction and mutual stimulation on many different levels throughout human history, by migration, trade, exchange, and war.1 The two areas frequently

1. Pagani et al. 2015. E. Christiana Köhler, Prehistoric Egypt In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0003.

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followed diverging trajectories and consequently exhibited very distinct sociocultural developments while also differing with regard to climate and ecology. Yet they converged time and again and thereby contributed to each other’s regional histories. This by no means linear development of two neighboring areas has been the subject of numerous scholarly works and intensive debates over the past century. The North African-​Egyptian side of this fascinating narrative until ca. 3050 bc and the unique position early Egypt holds in Near Eastern history are explored here. Throughout the Paleolithic period and until the end of the Pleistocene era, human subsistence, society, and material culture in northeastern Africa (see ­figure  2.1) were comparable to those in other parts of the ancient Near East. In particular, the Middle Paleolithic stone tool industries, for example the Levallois technology, exhibit close relations on both sides of the Sinai land bridge.2 This is also true of the later lithic industries.3 In addition, recent genetic research indicates a connection between the North African and Near Eastern populations during the Epipaleolithic.4 One could argue that at this early stage, the preconditions for both regions’ subsequent development were quite comparable. However, whereas the Levant and the Zagros-​ Taurus region (southern Anatolia, northern Mesopotamia, western Iran) witnessed the gradual emergence of early Neolithic lifeways around 9000 bc, the Egyptian Nile valley seems to have lagged behind in this respect, chronologically speaking. In addition, Egypt followed a very different path toward agriculture and animal domestication, even though—​and probably because—​crucial domesticates such as cattle, sheep/​goats, and cereals were most likely introduced to North Africa via the Levant. Nevertheless, despite Egypt’s relatively late transition to food-​producing subsistence strategies in the later sixth millennium bc, its development over the next two thousand years ended in the entirely independent and unparalleled emergence of the world’s first territorial state system. This chapter outlines the numerous factors that contributed to the Egyptian 2. Goder-​Goldberger et al. 2016. 3. Bar-​Yosef 2013: 238. 4. Van de Loostrecht et al. 2018.

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Figure  2.1a.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter  2. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

Nile valley’s path to civilization and early statehood. It primarily covers the period from ca. 7000 to 3050 bc,5 prior to the beginning of the Early Dynastic period (see figure 2.2). Instead of presenting a continuous

5. For the most recent chronologies, see Bronk-​Ramsey and Shortland 2013; Dee et al. 2013; Hendrickx 1996; 1999; 2006; 2011; Köhler 2011a.

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Figure 2.1b.    

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Figure 2.1c.    

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Figure 2.2.  Reconstruction of the relative and absolute chronologies of the Egyptian Nile valley and deserts, ca. 6500–​4000 bc (based on Riemer and Kindermann 2008: fig. 8). Prepared by E.C. Köhler.

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chronological narrative, this chapter aims to problematize certain topics in Egyptian culture, reflecting current thinking, that are crucial to the general history of the ancient Near East.

2.2.  The Nile valley and the deserts Egypt today covers a very large area, extending from the Mediterranean coast in the north to the border of Sudan, south of the First Nile Cataract, and from the coast of the Red Sea in the east to the Libyan border in the west. This vast territory encompasses two highly contrasting ecological zones—​the arid Egyptian deserts and the fertile valley of the Nile river—​which led their inhabitants on distinct developmental trajectories, a point frequently not appreciated. North Africa experienced significant and continuous climate change from approximately seventy-​five thousand to fifteen thousand years ago, tending toward increasing aridity. The stark ecological differences between the Nile valley and the deserts are even more pronounced today than they were in early antiquity. During the latter period, the gradual decrease in precipitation forced both humans and animals to contract their range of activity to be within close proximity to permanent water sources such as the Nile River and the oases. However, a temporary interruption of this general climatic trend occurred between approximately fifteen thousand and five thousand years before the present. This was a significantly more humid phase, known as the “African Humid Period” or “Holocene Optimum.”6 The greater volume and velocity of water collecting in the long stretch of the Nile at this time caused increased erosion and sedimentation, which ultimately created the characteristic landscape formation of the current Egyptian Nile valley. A side effect of this was the erosion and burial of any archaeological remains close to the Nile, which might have revealed lifeways prior to this phase. Importantly, the more humid climate offered favorable living conditions for a variety of wild plant and animal species

6. Castañeda et al. 2009; De Menocal et al. 2000; Brass 2017.

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in areas that had formerly been desert, where precipitation now averaged around 100 mm per year.7 This laid the essential ecological foundations for plants, animals, and human groups to not only thrive in a savanna-​like habitat but also engage in a highly mobile lifestyle, which fostered migration, communication, and the transfer of ideas and exchange between the societies of the Nile valley and those in the surrounding regions. In these conditions the Epipaleolithic Elkabian in the southern Nile valley and Eastern Desert,8 and the Qarunian9 (formerly known as “Fayum B”)10 industries in the north, emerged around 7500–​6000 bc. Both are characterized by geometric microliths and bladelets, although not many sites have been identified.11 Human occupation is attested around 8500–​7500 bc in regions far from the Nile valley that were endowed with a reliable supply of natural resources, such as Nabta Playa, Bir Kiseiba, Dakhla oasis, and Djara in the Western Desert.12 Epipaleolithic foragers and hunters may have returned to these places repeatedly and eventually, due to a plethora of resources, have settled permanently, manufacturing pottery and herding cattle as early as the seventh millennium bc.13 It has been argued that these desert sites exhibit an early form of Neolithic subsistence characterized by an autochthonous, sub-​Saharan domestication of the African variety of wild cattle (Bos primigenius) and low-​level food production. Some scholars have argued that these desert cultures had a lasting impact on pharaonic civilization.14 However, in light of more recent archaeological evidence and modern chronometric and archaeogenetic methods, a number of problems arise from this idea. Archaeozoological 7. Neumann 1989; Riemer and Kindermann 2008: 610. 8. Vermeersch 2008. 9. Vermeersch 1978; 2008; Wendorf and Schild 1976. 10. Caton-​Thompson and Gardner 1934. 11. Hendrickx and Huyge 2014: 240. 12. Kindermann 2010; Wendorf and Schild 1998; 2001; 2004. 13. Gautier 2001; Wendorf and Schild 1998. 14. Most recently Wengrow et al. 2014.

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evidence of domesticated cattle herding (and the keeping of small livestock like sheep and goats) is both scarce and ambiguous at these early Western and Eastern Desert sites. Recent genetic data suggest that all of these domesticates originated in Western Asia and were not exploited intensively. Most probably they merely complemented an otherwise mobile hunter-​gatherer subsistence regime.15 It is also quite possible that mobile herders of wild cattle occasionally acquired domesticated small livestock that they added to their herds. In this case it would be inappropriate to speak of animal domestication. There is also no evidence of agriculture at these early desert sites. For this reason some scholars have recently rejected the use of the term Neolithic to characterize these areas.16 Domesticated caprines seem to appear in the Eastern Desert during the late seventh millennium bc before being attested in the Western Desert.17 Probably the earliest evidence of caprines under human control in northeast Africa comes from Sodmein Cave near the Red Sea coast and dates to ca. 6200 bc. At this time precipitation in the northern Red Sea mountains was still relatively high, and Sodmein Cave was frequently visited, if only for short periods.18 According to Vermeersch et al. these visitors may have been mobile herders and hunters. Some of the earliest pottery in Egypt was probably manufactured in the Western Desert at Nabta Playa, Bir Kiseiba, and Dakhla oasis from the ninth millennium bc onward. This consists of a series of basic shapes with incised or impressed decoration. Parallels can be found at various sites in the Western and Eastern Deserts. The early date and apparent lack of external influence suggest an independent African origin of pottery manufacture.19

15. Brass 2017; Hendrickx and Huyge 2014:  241–​242; Shirai 2010; Vermeersch et al. 2015. 16. Hendrickx and Huyge 2014: 240; Hendrickx and Vermeersch 2000. 17. Gautier 1984; McDonald 1991; Churcher et al. 2008; Vermeersch et al. 2015. 18. Vermeersch et al. 2015. 19. Close 1995; Hendrickx et  al. 2010:  18; Jordeczka et  al. 2011; Maczynska 2018; Warfe 2017.

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The seemingly close relationship between such desert ceramic wares and fifth-​millennium bc pottery in the Nile valley has been discussed repeatedly in recent years.20 It is not clear, however, if and how these early Eastern and Western Desert dwellers directly relate to the early Neolithic groups of the Nile valley, where no archaeological remains of human occupation have yet been identified near the river, although this does not necessarily mean that there was no human occupation in this region. It is very possible that any remains that once existed were either eroded or lie buried deep under alluvial sediments. What is clear, however, is that with the gradual end of the Holocene Optimum and an increase in aridity across northeast Africa during the later sixth millennium bc, the favorable ecological conditions enjoyed by the highly mobile desert dwellers disappeared, forcing people to seek a more dependable environment.21 This caused a contraction of human habitation in the oases and along the Nile valley as well as a decrease in desert population, mobility, and exchange between regions.22 It is therefore possible that some of the human groups inhabiting the southern Egyptian Nile valley and certain ceramic traits of the fifth millennium bc, like Badarian Black-​Topped ware, “Tasian beakers,” and red polished wares, indeed had a remote desert ancestry, although the ceramic traditions of the desert and the Nile valley exhibit some technological differences. It is also possible that other human groups and their material culture, especially in the northern Nile valley and delta, originated elsewhere. Although there are similarities in terms of the lithic (bi) facial technocomplex, there is also a notable difference between early ceramics in the Fayum oasis and contemporary pottery from the Dakhla oasis and Djara. The former lacks “desert black-​topped” and decorated wares.23

20. Friedman 2002; Hassan 1988; Hope 2002; Midant-​Reynes 2000; Riemer and Kindermann 2008. 21. Riemer and Kindermann 2008. 22. Kuper and Kröpelin 2006. 23. Riemer and Kindermann 2008.

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As the desert population decreased, the few sites where human existence was still possible, for example the oases, became increasingly isolated. Nevertheless, the groups there were both well-​adapted to their environment and reasonably self-​sufficient. Thereafter, subsistence, lifestyle, and material culture barely changed at these sites over long periods of time, while developments near the Nile valley followed very different paths. Desert and valley now developed along separate sociocultural trajectories, and only much later did the inhabitants of the Nile valley again take an interest in the oases. In any case, it is relatively certain that the origins of pharaonic civilization are not to be sought in one particular region, from which it was spread via migration or exchange, but rather from complex and multiregional cultural processes caused by climate change and ever-​evolving mechanisms of contact between different regions, especially within the valley.24

2.3.  The first settlements in the Nile valley From a Nile valley perspective it seems obvious that contacts with outside regions were influenced by accessibility and geographical proximity, with the southern valley having more contact with southern desert regions and the northern valley and Nile delta with northern regions. With the increasing desiccation of northeast Africa during the late sixth and fifth millennia bc, external contacts would have become more sporadic, but internal, interregional exchange along the Nile valley was probably unaffected. It may even have increased as the water volume of the Nile decreased, making river travel easier and less hazardous. Favorable ecological conditions and the stable water supply at this time provided ideal conditions for hunter-​gatherers, fishers, and early livestock herders along the river shores and smaller side valleys. The lack of archaeological data from the valley for the seventh and sixth millennia bc is a major hindrance to identifying those sociocultural developments that eventually led to the fully sedentary, food-​producing form of subsistence that

24. Holdaway and Wendrich 2017; Riemer and Kindermann 2008: 629.

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is so characteristic of pharaonic civilization. The absence of archaeological evidence has often been taken as evidence of an absence of sites where local developments could potentially be observed. This absence of evidence has often been compensated for by unproven hypotheses and conjectures. Another aspect of the possible ancestry of Nile valley cultures is the question of sedentism and agriculture. It has recently been suggested that sedentary life only started in the fourth millennium bc and that Nile valley inhabitants until then ought to be considered “seasonally mobile agro-​pastoralist groups,”25 or even “primary pastoral communities,” which had spread north from the area of modern-​day Sudan.26 It is true that the settlement remains of the fifth millennium in Egypt are by no means comparable to those in other regions, such as the Levant and Mesopotamia, where pisé and mud-​brick architecture were employed much earlier, but this does not necessarily reflect the complexity of the archaeological evidence of life in the Nile valley. It is also prudent to consider sedentism separately from agriculture because there is no necessary correlation between the two, as much as it is necessary to abandon the traditionally strict opposition between food procurement and food production, since there is always the possibility that the two represent different points along the same spectrum.27 Before exploring possible explanations for this situation, it is important to consider the ecological context of the archaeological evidence for sedentism and settlement systems in the Nile valley. Following the increasing desiccation of northeastern Africa and the contraction of human existence in the oases and near the river during the sixth millennium bc, mobile desert dwellers did not immediately settle down to build villages as soon as they reached the shores of the Nile. Instead, they continued their successful and highly adapted mobile lifestyle for as long as possible. Depending on ecological conditions, some groups eventually

25. Stevenson 2016. 26. Wengrow 2006: 26, 63–​64; Wengrow et al. 2014: 102–​104. 27. Holdaway et al. 2018; Holdaway and Wendrich 2017; Wendrich et al. 2009.

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became more sedentary while others did not, or did so later. It is also reasonable to conjecture that once settled, they need not necessarily have remained so, because life near the river was highly dependent on the annual Nile inundation, which sometimes—​in years of unusually high floods—​could have had a devastating effect on built structures. Until the time the annual cycle was fully understood and the agricultural economy was carefully adapted to it, in addition to finding a suitable, permanently dry space to occupy, early Nile valley inhabitants probably had to maintain the option of movement and the ability to shift whenever necessary. This is reflected in the architecture of domestic dwellings. The earliest Neolithic sites in the Nile valley are located near the lake in the northern part of the Fayum depression,28 in northern Egypt upon elevated sand gezirahs (islands) in the western Nile delta,29 at the edge of the western delta floodplain,30 and along a small side valley of the Nile near modern Cairo.31 As discussed later in this section, these display a high degree of variability. Generally speaking, settlement remains are characterized by circular or oval house structures made of light, organic materials (rarely involving mud-​slab construction),32 midden deposits, hearths, and grain storage pits lined with basketry. From their earliest appearance toward the end of the sixth millennium,33 settlement remains of this sort continue to dominate the domestic archaeological record

28. Fayum A or Fayumian: Caton-​Thompson and Gardner 1934; Ginter et al. 1982; Holdaway and Wendrich 2017; Kozlowski and Ginter 1989. Although often considered a Western Desert oasis, we regard the Fayum as one facies of the early Nile valley cultural system because of its geographic proximity and direct connection with the Nile valley via the Bahr Youssef River. 29. Sais: Wilson et al. 2014. Neolithic remains are also reported from the eastern Nile delta, but the current state of investigation does not allow for conclusions about the nature of these sites. 30. Merimde-​Benisalame: Eiwanger 1984; 1988; 1992; Rowlands 2016. 31. El-​Omari: Debono and Mortensen 1990. 32. The use of large, handmade mud slabs, which may be considered precursors of mud bricks, is attested at Merimde-​Benisalame, cf. Junker 1932: fig. 1; 1933: 64–​67. 33. Wendrich et al. 2009.

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along the Nile valley for almost two thousand years, until the second half of the fourth millennium bc, when mud-​brick architecture was gradually introduced. But this does not necessarily mean that all of these societies were mobile pastoralists, because some sites (e.g., Maadi) developed into relatively large, permanently inhabited villages and important commercial centers, even though the domestic architecture remained rather ephemeral in character. Moreover, these early wattle-​and-​daub settlement remains, as well as late Neolithic remains in southern Egypt, appear outside the alluvial plain along the fringes of the Nile valley. This has two significant consequences for their archaeological interpretation. The first is that many of these sites on the desert edge have been subject to continuous erosion and significant deflation over thousands of years, especially if they were not occupied long enough for deposits to accumulate and develop into stratified layers of settlement debris. Many Neolithic settlements are therefore poorly preserved, making the collection of organic remains and the recognition and interpretation of archaeological features very difficult. This was especially true in the early twentieth century, when most of these sites were excavated and when archaeological techniques were still primitive. The second consequence is that these low desert fringe sites may not necessarily be all there is to Neolithic life in the Nile valley. Although this is a point presently impossible to prove because of a lack of archaeological evidence, it is highly likely that some of these remains may be seasonal dwellings where villagers and their livestock, who normally lived in the valley, sought refuge during periods of high flood. Settlements near the river were most likely located on natural levees, which provided dry living areas for most of the year. But even during regular inundation, the grazing land for the livestock would have been flooded for several weeks each year, and animals would have had to be taken away to the edges of the floodplain. With the climate in northeastern Africa remaining relatively moist until around 3000 bc, causing the Nile to collect large amounts of rainwater from the Ethiopian highlands in spring and summer, the Nile floods would have been significantly higher and stronger during the sixth to fourth millennia bc than in pharaonic times. This may explain why there are as yet no Neolithic

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remains within the Nile alluvium: they are either buried deep under sediment or have been washed away by the changing course of the river. This must be borne in mind when interpreting the limited Neolithic domestic remains present in this highly incomplete archaeological record. In addition, as exemplified by two neighboring but very different areas, the Fayum and Merimde-​Benisalame, variability is attested in early Neolithic lifeways in the Nile valley. Sites along the northern shore of the Fayum lake, identified by Gertrude Caton-​Thompson in the early twentieth century,34 have been discussed extensively. Modern scholars have cast doubt on some of Caton-​Thompson’s observations and interpretations because the published data have raised more questions than they answer, and significant disagreements remain about the interpretation of the Fayum Neolithic within the context of the transition to sedentary food production in Egypt.35 The most important contribution to our current understanding of the area comes from recent investigations by Willeke Wendrich, Simon Holdaway, and their team.36 There are two areas where domestic evidence has accumulated in stratified deposits and clusters of pits at the northern edge of the Fayum lake (mainly Kom W and Kom K). Although there is evidence for human occupation from the late sixth millennium bc, it appears as if the area was most continuously inhabited between 4650 and 4350 bc, a period in which the first cultivated crops appear as well. It seems that at this time the inhabitants engaged in low-​level food production involving the cultivation of hulled barley and emmer wheat,37 which once harvested were stored in large, basket-​lined granary pits. There is also evidence of the limited keeping of domesticated livestock, mainly sheep and goats, as well as of fishing, an activity that was probably the main source of animal protein.38 Because the sites excavated did not yield

34. Caton-​Thompson and Gardner 1934. 35. See most recently Holdaway et al. 2018, contra Shirai 2010. 36. Holdaway and Wendrich 2017. 37. Wendrich and Cappers 2005. 38. Linseele et al. 2014; Linseele et al. 2016.

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any evidence of domestic architecture and any quantity of the artifacts expected from fully sedentary societies, the researchers suggested that the inhabitants of the area were still fairly mobile, even if they appear to have returned to certain sites, stored grain, and repeatedly used the same fireplaces. The researchers even rejected the term “village” for these sites and instead proposed a more complex settlement system that included “dispersed locations with concentrated evidence for storage” combined with “extensive deposits made up of relatively short-​lived features.”39 Holdaway and Wendrich have also questioned the traditional model of the “Neolithic package” having arrived in Egypt at a certain time and developed continuously from then onward. Instead, they have emphasized that the Fayum settlement system is only one aspect of northern Egyptian lifeways at that time. This becomes clear when the Fayum evidence is compared to the village at Merimde-​Benisalame, not far to the northeast, at the edge of the western Nile delta. This site was also first excavated in the early twentieth century, by Herman Junker. Decades later it was again investigated by Josef Eiwanger, and most recently it has been investigated by Joanne Rowland. The archaeological evidence here differs from the Fayum sites in that the site is characterized by dwellings made of vertical posts and mud slabs. Merimde-​Benisalame, which covers around 24 ha, was occupied more or less continuously for several hundred years during the first half of the fifth millennium bc, that is, at roughly the same time as the Fayum sites. The material culture is very comparable, with bifacial stone tools, hollow-​based arrowheads, bifacial and polished adzes, and relatively basic, largely undecorated pottery forms dominating the archaeological evidence. Subsistence was based on cereal cultivation and animal keeping, especially of sheep/​goats, cattle, and pigs, complemented by fishing. In contrast to the settlement system in the Fayum, Merimde was most likely a village that was inhabited on a far more permanent basis. A hiatus between Phases I and II may suggest a brief interruption in settlement, but subsequent layers attest to continuity in habitation. The material culture of Merimde—​artifacts made from Red Sea shells, a Helwan type flint arrowhead, and ceramic 39. Holdaway and Wendrich 2017: 212, 242.

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decoration in the earliest Phase I—​has prompted a number of studies on potential external—​that is, Levantine—​influence.40 This had been linked to the introduction of Neolithic culture from Western Asia. The most recent archaeological data, discussed previously, largely discredit this notion, particularly in view of the fact that well over a thousand years elapsed between the first occurrence of domesticated animals in northeastern Africa around 6200 bc and the earliest occupation at Merimde-​Benisalame. However, this does not cast doubt on the Western Asiatic origin of these domesticates. Rather, it alters the chronology of the processes involved and their consequences, given that the situation now seems more complex than previously thought. Merimde Phase I  produced a tanged, laterally notched flint arrow point,41 which has close parallels to typical Levantine Pre-​ Pottery Neolithic (PPN) projectile points (“Helwan points,” named after their original find spot near Helwan in Egypt). The first examples of Helwan points were collected in the late nineteenth century from the surface in the desert, but no structural remains or ecofacts have ever been recorded there, casting doubt on the precise sociocultural and chronological position of this material. But the typological relationship with Levantine PPN material has led some scholars to suppose that these points, more specimens of which were subsequently located in the Fayum and Wadi Arabah of the Eastern Desert,42 had diffused from the northern Levant to Egypt during the seventh millennium bc, perhaps in tandem with the entire concept of Neolithic subsistence. It has been argued that this would have occurred at a time when the PPN in the Levant came to an end and dispersed to other regions, such as Egypt.43 A similar argument about influence from the Levant to Egypt has been made for early Neolithic ceramics, especially the incised decorative patterns at Merimde I, which do have certain correlates in southern Levantine assemblages of

40. Eiwanger 1984; Maczynska 2017; 2018; Streit 2017. 41. Eiwanger 1984: pl. 57, I.1106. 42. Shirai 2011: 173; Tristant 2010. 43. Eiwanger 1984: 62; Gopher 1994.

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the sixth millennium bc, such as the Yarmukian material.44 It has thus been suggested that the Pottery Neolithic in the Nile valley originated in the Levant.45 Both features—​Helwan points and early Neolithic pottery parallels—​attest to contacts between the two regions in the late seventh and sixth millennia bc, which continued thereafter, as discussed later in the chapter. But instead of searching for possible points of origin or avenues of migration, it would probably be more useful to consider this situation as similar to the contemporary interactions between the desert and the Nile valley previously discussed. While the potential for population movement and influence is undeniable, there are also significant differences. At that time, the Levant was also characterized by a climatic situation that was most favorable for mobile hunters and herders to engage in interaction with many regions, including the Sinai, Nile delta, and Eastern Desert. As previously noted, such groups would have frequently visited Sodmein Cave and brought with them domesticated caprines. Groups like these might have provided potential points of contact with people inhabiting the Nile valley, the delta, and their fringes, who would have acquired domesticated livestock from them and eventually the knowledge of cereal farming and pottery production from others. Migration is also indicated by evidence of genetic admixture from the Levant to Africa at that time,46 probably because of Egypt’s favorable ecology, but as noted previously, this had been going on since the Paleolithic. Over the millennia, these random contacts and interactions seem to have contributed as much to the emergence of Neolithic life in Egypt as desert groups did, but it probably would be inappropriate to speak of migration to or even colonization of Egypt by these Levantine groups. By the fifth millennium bc at the latest, a Neolithic subsistence pattern with fully developed agriculture and animal husbandry was fully established in the Egyptian Nile valley, albeit at varying levels of

44. But see Streit 2017. 45. Maczynska 2017; Streit 2017. 46. Streit 2017: 423, citing Arredi et al. 2004.

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intensity. All of the known sites exhibit comparable sets of material culture, including pottery, stone tools, bone implements, and basic personal adornments. Because of the general coherence of this material, it is justifiable to speak of a Neolithic cultural system in the Egyptian Nile valley comprised of numerous subsystems with different degrees of variability. Some groups lived in permanent agricultural villages and others in seasonal dwellings; still others maintained a more mobile lifestyle combining herding with low-​level food production, as reflected in the construction of dwellings.47 This high level of regional variability can be explained by low population density and the generally small size of individual social groups, the specific ecological character of each region, and the range of external contacts with neighboring groups. But it should be noted that the Neolithic in Egypt still suffers from a deficit of data. Our understanding of fifth-​millennium material culture is based on only a handful of sites—​the Fayum, Merimde, Sais, and el-​Omari—​in the north; a cluster of sites in the region of Badari, in Middle Egypt;48 a small site at Mahgar Dendara farther south;49 and finds of diagnostic pottery in southern Upper Egypt. There is also evidence of chronological development, as the northern Neolithic sites are somewhat earlier than those in the south. The Fayum, Merimde, Sais, and el-​Omari sites seem to cover the first half and middle of the fifth millennium, while the late Neolithic sites extend from around 4400 bc until the beginning of the fourth millennium. It is possible that the “Moerian” in the Fayum oasis and the cache of material from nearby Sedment Mayana could help to bridge the end of the fifth millennium in the north, but the evidence is inconclusive.50 Besides certain comparable aspects in material culture, such as wattle-​and-​daub architecture, domestic pottery, and stone tool industries, the southern sites also exhibit a range of distinct elements and new technological developments, including the use of very fine ceramic

47. Köhler 2017. 48. Brunton and Caton-​Thompson 1928; Holmes and Friedman 1994. 49. Hendrickx et al. 2001. 50. Maczynska 2017.

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wares like Black-​Topped vessels; large flint blade knives (“Hemamiya” knives);51 figural ivory ornaments; and artifacts made of local copper, which was probably collected in the Eastern Desert. As noted previously, it is possible that Black-​Topped pottery in the valley had a Western Desert origin, but in addition to a chronological discrepancy of about half a millennium, there are also significant technological differences between these two traditions.52 Nile valley Black-​Topped pottery wares of the late fifth millennium bc are very fine vessels made of untempered Nile silt, often with a red slip, and a finely rippled and polished surface. While the interior of these vessels is completely blackened, the exterior surface is brown or red with a blackened rim. This indicates a degree of control over the firing process, something not apparent in the coarse domestic wares. The distribution of these characteristic late Neolithic fine wares extends from Middle Egypt south to Hierakonpolis and Elkab.53 Two of the key questions of current scholarship on prehistoric Egypt are when societies began to develop complex forms of social organization and when socioeconomic inequality and institutionalized leadership began to emerge. Unfortunately, a lack of coherent evidence from across the Nile valley means that the answers to these questions are difficult to determine. The sporadic observation of certain archaeological phenomena must often serve as proxies for broader sociocultural and culture-​ historical evidence, which is obviously problematic. Nevertheless, some scholars have attempted to investigate these questions for the fifth and fourth millennia bc, particularly when exactly the transition from the postulated egalitarian societies of the Neolithic to more complex, ranked societies occurred.54 To this end, Wendy Anderson subjected eighteen late Neolithic cemeteries (in total 725 burials) in the region of Badari to a statistical analysis. The results indicate a degree of status differentiation and two-​tiered ranking in Badarian societies. Some very small groups

51. Holmes 1989. 52. Riemer and Kindermann 2008. 53. Claes et al. 2014; Hendrickx and Huyge 2014: 246. 54. For example, Bard 1994; Köhler 2017; Wilkinson 1996.

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of individuals clearly enjoyed greater access to resources than most of their contemporaries.55 This is in itself a significant result, but it is difficult to contextualize Badarian burials within the Nile valley as a whole, given that there are very few contemporary burials that can be used for interregional comparison. Considering the aforementioned regional character and variability of Neolithic sites across Egypt, Badarian social organization and burial practices therefore ought to be regarded only as an example of the Middle Egyptian late Neolithic, not extrapolated to other regions in the absence of additional evidence.

2.4.  The Egyptian Nile valley in the fourth millennium bc Although the amount of information dating to the fourth millennium (see figure 2.3) is greater than for earlier periods, it is important to consider a number of points in attempting to understand the particular scholarly discourse surrounding this period that has dominated the literature of the last few decades. The long history of archaeological research on prehistoric Egypt, spanning well over a century, has obviously seen significant changes in the definition of archaeological cultures and their interpretation. This is particularly true of the archaeology of the late fifth and fourth millennia bc. Given Egyptian civilization’s singular position in world history as the first territorial state society, and pharaonic kingship being the epitomization of ancient Egyptian civilization, many research projects understandably have focused on the origins of the early state and positioned their questions and conclusions within this perspective. Initially, scholars tried to determine the nature and sequence of cultures in a narrative, culture-​historical tradition, an approach that was very common during the early twentieth century. Conversely, late-​ twentieth-​century research introduced not only new methods and terminologies but also a far more nuanced approach to understanding the prehistoric cultural systems of Egypt. Modern scholarship is still in the

55. Anderson 1992.

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Figure  2.3. Reconstruction of the relative and absolute chronologies of important sites in the Egyptian Nile valley, ca. 4000–​3000 bc. Prepared by E.C. Köhler.

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process of untangling the web of old concepts in which the archaeological evidence is shrouded. For example, many scholars refer to the culture-​ historical sequence of Tasian, Badarian, and Naqada cultures leading up to the pharaonic state.56 The Tasian has frequently been considered a cultural phase predating the Badarian in Middle Egypt.57 Its characteristic incised tulip-​shaped beakers, which also seem to have a desert ancestry, have mainly been observed in graves, and as yet no convincing chronological or material difference between Tasian and Badarian burials has been demonstrated. Recently, this has prompted the suggestion that Tasian material culture is not a separate phase or culture but possibly yet another aspect of material variability within the same region at this time.58 The same questions probably apply to the Badarian and Naqada cultures, peoples, or civilizations (as they are often called), specifically how they can be distinguished from other assemblages and how they eventually migrated or expanded along the Nile valley, laying the cultural foundations for a unified pharaonic state. The views that dominated the scholarly discourse of the twentieth century are gradually being abandoned in favor of more contemporary notions of archaeological cultures and sociocultural processes leading to state formation, divorcing prehistoric phenomena from questions concerning the emergence of the early state and rejecting a linear narrative from prehistoric cultures to statehood.59 This is not to say that the origins of the state cannot be investigated—​quite the contrary—​and maintaining a diachronic perspective makes the observation of certain significant developments inevitable, but it is important to take prehistoric societies for what they are in time and space instead of viewing them as stages on the pathway to civilization and kingship. 56. It should be noted that traditionally, early Neolithic sites in northern Egypt were also thought to represent separate cultures. 57. Hendrickx and Huyge 2014: 246. 58. See most recently Horn 2017. 59. For example, Friedman 1994; Holmes 1989; Köhler 1995; 1996; 1998a; 2008; 2016; 2017; Stevenson 2016.

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The agricultural villages and societies of the fourth millennium bc along the Nile valley, between Hierakonpolis60 in the south and Tell el-​Fara’in/​Buto61 and Tell el-​Farkha62 in the north, indeed represent the foundation from which Egyptian civilization eventually emerged. This is because a sedentary lifestyle near the Nile river, dominated by the agricultural cycle of inundation, planting, and harvest, is in essence what nonelite pharaonic culture is all about. The material manifestation of this complex cultural system is characterized by light wattle-​and-​daub architecture, sometimes complemented by mud-​slab and stone construction in the early and regular mud-​brick architecture from the later fourth millennium bc onward. The domestic pottery assemblage includes coarse cooking and storage wares as well as finer serving and transport vessels. The stone tool industries owe much to Neolithic bifacial traditions, but blade and flake technologies become increasingly common.63 Judging by the cemetery populations, societies largely had a two-​tiered structure, at least for the first three-​quarters of the millennium. Material culture is characterized by specialized craft industries for the manufacture of stone vessels, pottery, textiles, and metal objects,64 which would support the description of this as a Chalcolithic culture. However, numerous regional variations appear as well, allowing us to explore the specific character of different regional societies that were maintained even after economic, administrative, and political mechanisms began to have an integrative effect on villages and towns along the Nile at the beginning of the pharaonic period. In order to appreciate what significant changes different societies experienced over time, a number of domains, such as craft industries, 60. Adams 1974a; 1974b; Fairservis 1972; 1983; Friedman 1994; 1999; 2000; 2008a; 2008b; 2009; Friedman et al. 2011; Friedman et al. 2017; Hoffman et al. 1986. 61. Faltings and Köhler 1996; Hartung et  al. 2016; Von der Way 1991; 1992; 1993; 1997. 62. Chłodnicki 2004; 2011; 2016; 2017; Chłodnicki and Ciałowicz 2007; Chłodnicki et al. 2012; Ciałowicz 2004; 2008; 2011; 2016. 63. Hart-​Skarzynski 2017; Holmes 1989. 64. Takamiya  2004.

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settlements and urbanism, economy and administration, social organization and complexity, artistic expressions of power, and religious beliefs are examined here.

2.5. Craft specialization As previously noted, certain aspects of Neolithic pottery production in the Nile valley seem to reflect influences from the Levant and the surrounding desert regions. Domestic pottery exhibits little variation through time and was meant to be durable. It was destined to fulfill the specific practical functions of cooking, serving, and storage of foodstuffs. The finer wares, on the other hand, display more evidence of experimentation and variability. This may reflect the more stable and settled lifestyle of the late Neolithic as well as the extremely advantageous ecological conditions for pottery manufacture, with practically unlimited access to clay, water, tempering agents, and fuel, which encouraged early specialization. The makers of Black-​Topped and Red Polished pottery in Upper Egypt refined the art of manipulating clays, temper, and firing conditions to create delicate, almost eggshell-​thin fine wares. Conversely, ceramic producers in northern Egypt found themselves in a less favorable situation, as the far more humid and cooler climate probably prohibited pottery manufacture during the winter season and was thus less conducive to specialization until other factors later provided an economically viable basis for specialized pottery production.65 Southern ceramic industries also benefited from an increased demand for pottery beyond the domestic sphere as burials eventually became a site of social distinction and performance, and large quantities of ceramics were manufactured exclusively for graves. As a result, many of the southern pottery workshops had the opportunity to thrive and develop into highly specialized craft centers that manufactured a wide range of wares for domestic and funerary demands, often beyond their own villages.

65. Köhler 1997; 1998a.

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Table 2.1.  Chronological table of the Egyptian Nile valley during the pre-​ and early historical periods Absolute chronology (in years bc)

Historical chronology

Relative chronology

3100–​2700

Early Dynastic Early Bronze (Dynasties 1–​2) Age Proto-​Dynastic

Naqada IIIC–​D

3300–​3100

Naqada IIIA–​B

(Dynasty 0 at Abydos) 3500–​3300

Late Chalcolithic

Naqada IIC/​D–​IIIA

3900–​3500

Early Chalcolithic

Naqada IB/​C–​IIB

4400–​3900

Late Neolithic

Naqada IA/​B “Badarian”

5300–​4400

Early Neolithic

El-​Omari Merimde-​Benisalame Fayum A

8000–​6000

Epipaleolithic

Qarunian Elkabian

10000 300,000

Paleolithic

There is evidence to suggest that the southern fine Black-​Topped ware of the early fourth millennium (Naqada IC-​IIB;66 see table 2.1) was exchanged on an interregional basis and ended up as far north as Maadi.67 Within the favorable economic environment in the south, potters were able to explore new materials and designs, and they also may have taken

66. The significant changes in the funerary ceramic assemblages of the fourth millennium bc represent key criteria for the relative chronology of this period, which is expressed in Naqada phases I–​III with further subdivisions so termed after the type site Naqada in Upper Egypt, cf. Kaiser 1957; Hendrickx 1996; 1999; 2006. This relative chronology is currently under review. 67. Rizkana and Seeher 1987: 51–​52.

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advantage of newly emerging industries for secondary products, such as oil, which required durable containers for storage and transport. This led to the appearance of the so-​called Decorated and Wavy-​Handled wares of the late Chalcolithic period (Naqada IIC-​D/​IIIA), so named by Flinders Petrie, who was the first archaeologist in Egypt to classify and seriate prehistoric pottery.68 These new wares are characterized by a distinct type of clay, Egyptian marl clay, which in this particular variety only occurs in Upper Egypt.69 These vessels were distributed widely across the Nile valley and beyond, suggesting strong commercial links between the regions. Most domestic ceramics were manufactured in households. While they were therefore only distributed locally, and a number of distinct regional styles emerged,70 there is nevertheless a significant degree of morphological coherence in the inventories of domestic pottery in the Egyptian Nile valley and delta. Similar observations may be made with respect to domestic and funerary construction methods and stone tool assemblages.71 Thus the evidence argues in recent scholarship against a separation between two distinct cultures in Upper and Lower Egypt.72 Similar observations relating to specialized craft production can be made about stone vessels, but in this case the manufacturing industry initially developed in the northern regions. This is not surprising given that the preferred raw material—​basalt—​is available between the Fayum oasis and the tip of the Nile delta, which gave manufacturers in nearby places like Maadi the opportunity to establish a basalt vessel industry that

68. Petrie 1921. 69. Egyptian calcareous Marl clay can generally be found wherever there are limestone formations, which is obviously along almost the entire stretch of the Egyptian Nile valley. But as far as the evidence allows us to say at this point, the specific marl clay pastes of Decorated and Wavy-​Handled ware has a southern origin. Cf. Ownby and Köhler 2020. 70. Friedman 1994; 2000; Köhler 2014; 2017. 71. Holmes 1989; Schmidt 1996. 72. This writer does not follow the postulated distinction between the “Buto/​Maadi” or “Lower Egyptian” and “Naqada” cultures; cf. Köhler 1995; 1996; 1998a; 2008; 2014; 2016; see also Maczynska 2016.

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involved vessel shapes from the local pottery repertoire.73 The production of basalt vessels demanded great skill and labor due to the hardness of the stone. Basalt vessels circulated locally but also seem to have been exported on a fairly large scale, as they appear frequently in contemporary southern Egyptian burial assemblages. Stone vessels made of other decorative hard stones, such as breccia, serpentine, and porphyry, were later made in Upper Egyptian workshops, which were able to acquire the raw material from the relatively near Eastern Desert sources. As noted previously, the manufacture of utilitarian metal objects, especially of copper, dates to the late Neolithic period, when small objects and wire were made of local copper that was probably collected in the Eastern Desert and cold-​hammered without heating or annealing. The earliest evidence of metallurgy comes from early fourth-​millennium Maadi, where artifacts made of imported Levantine copper were found.74 Although it is probable that copper ore was smelted near the mines where it originated and then transported to the Nile valley as ingots, possibly by intermediaries,75 the actual production of finished objects was most likely the work of metalsmiths at Maadi, who melted the ingots and cast copper artifacts. This is suggested by the fact that ingots, as well as axes and other tools, were found at Maadi in substantial numbers.76 Such evidence of metallurgy indicates a high degree of professionalism and specialization, which also reflects the enhanced socioeconomic status of specialist craftsmen.77 The material discussed here suggests that by the early to mid-​fourth millennium bc there were a number of different local craft industries in different regions that were predicated upon the availability of natural

73. Köhler 2017; Kopp 2007; Mallory-​Greenough 2002; Seeher 1990: 141. 74. Seeher  1990. 75. This could explain sites such as Hujayrat al-​Ghuzlan near Aqaba, where copper ores and molds for copper bars matching in size those from Maadi were found; cf. Khalil and Schmidt 2009. 76. Seeher 1990: 148; 1991: 315. 77. Golden 2002.

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resources and favorable ecological conditions. These industries benefited from increasing demand for finished products, which in turn probably reflects an ever-​growing population in the many village communities and commercial centers. Interregional exchange and river trade, as well as funerary customs in Upper Egypt requiring numerous grave goods, also contributed to the demand for specialized goods.

2.6.  Settlements and urbanism In contrast to other regions in the Near East, Egypt is still underexplored archaeologically with respect to settlements. Although research over the past thirty to forty years has improved the situation, settlement archaeology in Egypt is significantly more difficult to pursue than elsewhere. One factor is the annual inundation of the Nile River, accompanied by the deposition of alluvial sediments. Over the millennia this has caused a rise in the surface level of the alluvial plain. In the process, prehistoric archaeological remains have become buried under many meters of sediment. As a result, early settlement remains near the river are difficult to locate and access archaeologically.78 Another factor that must be considered is that since the completion of the Aswan High Dam in the late twentieth century and the resulting end of the annual floods, modern agriculture has come to rely heavily on artificial irrigation, which has caused a significant rise in the water table, making the excavation of deeply buried settlement strata a real challenge. And finally, the few archaeological remains that do exist at higher elevations, in the desert and along the edges of the alluvial plain, are either threatened by construction and land reclamation or are already lost. The map of prehistoric settlement remains in Egypt is therefore still inadequate, and it is difficult to draw wider conclusions about settlement systems and hierarchies from it. Nevertheless, the few prehistoric settlements known in the archaeological record provide

78. Tristant 2004.

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valuable qualitative evidence of house construction and storage facilities as well as insight into activities that took place there.79 As in the Neolithic period during the fifth millennium, settlement construction in the early fourth millennium bc generally entailed wattle-​and-​daub architecture with vertical wooden posts set in the ground, forming relatively small oval, round, or rectangular structures. Early Chalcolithic sites such as Adaima, el-​Mahasna, and Maadi,80 which are located in the desert at the edge of the alluvial plain, mainly exhibit posts and postholes, wall trenches, mud floors, hearths, and storage pits or large vessels buried in the ground. Where the ground humidity presented a problem for the preservation of wooden posts, such as in the Nile delta, postholes were often lined with a thick coating of clay, identifiable at Lower Egyptian prehistoric settlements such as Tell el-​ Fara’in/​Buto, Tell el-​Iswid, and Tell el-​Farkha by characteristic clay circles.81 Alongside these general characteristics, a number of unusual features should be noted. At Tell el-​Iswid, this type of house construction was often reinforced by horizontal rows of timber at the bottom of wall trenches, a detail not often observed elsewhere.82 At Hierakonpolis, structures of this type sometimes reached monumental dimensions, with large palisade walls and halls. These may have had communal or ceremonial functions.83 A  cluster of several building structures surrounding a sizable, ovoid courtyard has been interpreted as a temple or chiefly residence.84 Between the regular wattle-​and-​daub structures of the settlement at Maadi, which covers 45 ha and probably shifted over time toward the river, the excavators noted several unusual buildings,

79. See also Moeller 2016: 59–​112. 80. Anderson 2006; Bajeot 2017; Hartung et al. 2003; Midant-​Reynes and Buchez 2002; Rizkana and Seeher 1989. 81. Buchez et al. 2017; Chłodnicki et al. 2012; Midant-​Reynes and Buchez 2014; Von der Way 1997. 82. Buchez et al. 2017. 83. Hikade 2011; Hikade et al. 2008. 84. Friedman  2009.

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which were entirely, or at least partially, underground and sometimes reinforced by large mud bricks and substantial stone walls up to 80 cm thick.85 One of these buildings, covering 55 sq m, has an ovoid layout and probably represents a storage basement. The postulated floor above was supported by three massive posts. Numerous vessel impressions on the floor suggest that the building was a central storehouse. The most recent excavator, Ulrich Hartung, has emphasized the uniqueness of this kind of building in the Egyptian Nile valley. Numerous parallels exist in the southern Levant,86 however, suggesting the possible foreign origin of this kind of architecture. Based on a small number of clay nails found in the mid-​to late-​ fourth-​millennium layers at Buto, architectural relations with Western Asia, and especially with the Uruk network, have also been suggested.87 At Uruk such nails, embedded in the façades of mud-​brick walls, were used as architectural decoration. At Buto, however, nails have only been found in strata without mud-​brick architecture.88 Mud-​brick architecture and generally rectilinear buildings are features of the late Chalcolithic, when they begin to dominate settlement remains just after the mid-​fourth millennium bc. At sites with a continuous stratigraphic sequence, such as at Tell el-​Fara’in/​Buto, Tell el-​Iswid, and Tell el-​Farkha, the shift in construction methods occurs relatively quickly and at around the same time also takes hold in the funerary sphere throughout the entire Nile valley. This change set the standard for domestic architecture over the next few millennia and over time

85. Hartung 2006; Hartung et al. 2003; Rizkana and Seeher 1987. 86. Hartung et al. 2003; Hartung 2012. 87. Von der Way 1997: pl. 57. 88. Köhler 1998a: 38; Moorey 1990. Early interactions with the Uruk network and Syria had also been suggested on the basis of specific pottery vessels, which, however, are now being interpreted as “V-​shaped bowls” of the southern Levantine Ghassul-​Beersheva cultures during the early to mid-​fourth millennium bc. Interestingly, these vessels were found in the earliest layer at Buto. In addition to their foreign style and manufacturing technique, it is important to note that they were produced locally, which could potentially indicate the presence of Levantines in the western Nile delta. See Köhler in Faltings and Köhler 1996.

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contributed to the more pronounced accumulation of stratigraphic layers resulting in settlement mounds, which now began to form above the alluvial plain. Where a sufficient area has been exposed in archaeological excavation, it is sometimes possible to identify differential use of settlement space in industrial and residential quarters, but problems of preservation and interpretation persist. Qualitative evidence at Tell el-​Farkha suggests a centralized, urban site with sanctuaries and large-​scale breweries that probably catered for a large community and may have involved communal feasting.89 At Naqada, Petrie was able to uncover a fairly large, urban settlement with a dense cluster of buildings covering 3 ha and a large building complex that may have had a central administrative function.90 It should be noted, though, that none of these Chalcolithic sites has as yet produced any evidence of fortification. The earliest known fortification wall preserved, dating to the Early Dynastic period, is located on Elephantine island in the border zone between the Egyptian and Nubian Nile valleys.91 Due to a lack of representative archaeological data, the significance of these sites cannot be determined on the basis of settlement remains alone but must be complemented by funerary data, which are available in abundance, especially in Upper Egypt. These allow us to reconstruct population density and indirectly the settlement systems of certain areas at a given time.92 This complementary approach leads to the conclusion that in addition to some of the settlements already mentioned, the regions of Hierakonpolis, Naqada, Abydos/​Thinis, and Gerza/​Tarkhan had begun to develop densely populated, urban settlement clusters of regional significance around the middle of the fourth millennium bc. Their regional importance is indicated by the presence of large cemeteries of commoners

89. Chłodnicki et al. 2012. 90. Di Pietro 2017; Petrie and Quibell 1896. 91. Ziermann 1993. It is possible that the fortification walls at Tell es-​Sakan in modern-​day Gaza, a site that is often referred to as an Egyptian colony, date to early Naqada III, but the precise chronology, cultural assignment, and interpretation remain open; Miroschedji and Sadek 2000. 92. Köhler 2017.

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with thousands of burials and sometimes small, separate elite cemeteries, such as HK 6 at Hierakonpolis, Cemetery T at Naqada, and Cemetery U at Abydos, where only very privileged individuals and their families were buried. In the north, in a strategically significant location at the apex of the Nile delta, a new center seems to have developed after either Maadi had lost its significance or its population had shifted onto the alluvial plain, closer to the Nile, thus disappearing from the archaeological record around the middle of the millennium. No domestic or urban remains of this new center have been identified, but the region around it experienced significant growth in cemetery populations from ca. 3200 bc onward.93 Sites like Abu Ghurab/​Abusir, Abu Rawash, Giza, Zawyet el-​Aryan, Tura, and Helwan witnessed the appearance of a dense, well-​ connected, and probably urban settlement cluster on the alluvial plain between them. This densely occupied, strategically advantageous region would later be consolidated by the kings of the First Dynasty to form Inbu-​hedj (“White Walls” = later Memphis), the primary center of the territorial state.94 All of these urban centers along the Nile valley witnessed significant sociocultural and economic changes during the late fourth millennium, and it was here that Egyptian civilization first materialized. The large numbers of Chalcolithic burials—​with some sites, such as Hierakonpolis and Naqada, exceeding two thousand tombs each, and totaling around fifteen thousand for the Egyptian Nile valley95—​offer valuable insights into the material culture and general socioeconomic system of the time.

2.7.  Economy and administration Neolithic agricultural villagers living along the Nile would have produced primarily for their own subsistence. But the Chalcolithic period saw a significant change in economic organization, probably triggered by

93. Mortensen 1991. 94. Köhler  2004. 95. Hendrickx and Van den Brink 2002.

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increased population size, craft specialization, and an increased demand for various commodities in the funerary sphere. This is demonstrated very well by the furnishings of elite tombs, although most of these were plundered repeatedly in antiquity. These tombs contained a wide range and significant quantity of goods, including pottery; stone vessels; copper, gold, and rare silver objects; siltstone and graywacke cosmetic palettes; and adornments and personal items made of ivory, semiprecious local stones like carnelian, shells, and faience. Graves also contained exotic, imported materials such as malachite, turquoise, and lapis lazuli; ceramic vessels containing oil and wine; and cedar wood. These were acquired via intensive interregional and long-​distance trade and exchange networks radiating out from the commercial centers where the manufacturing industries and elites were based. As the funerary culture of southern Egypt became a vehicle for the expression of social distinction, there are grounds for assuming that the elites took an active interest in supporting and controlling craft industries and the flow of goods within and beyond their territories. The purchasing power for the acquisition of these commodities was provided by accumulated wealth in agricultural products and livestock as well as any revenue generated by industrial production, trade, and the exertion of political leverage over economic partners and rivals. Local elites would have eventually steered the economy toward their own political ends, a system of political economy that laid the foundations for the later pharaonic state economy.96 This system was facilitated by an emerging tool that allowed political leaders, or chiefs, to control production and distribution: hieroglyphic writing. The beginnings of the idea of writing probably date to ca. 3300/​ 3400 bc, as shown by cylinder seals and clay sealings. It is very possible that long-​distance trade with the Levant and Mesopotamia played a role in this phenomenon.97 While many early seals exhibit linear, figural, and abstract designs, some also bear signs that could represent an early form of hieroglyphic writing, such as buildings and fish (read inu = delivery),

96. Köhler 2010a. 97. Hartung 1998; Honoré 2007; Baines 2004; 2005.

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which later played a role in written administrative texts. Generally speaking, the earliest written records in Egypt can be found in economic and administrative contexts and served as a means of communication over long distances as well as in the documentation and monitoring of commodities. All of this implies the existence of administrative personnel in charge of these activities. When writing first appeared, there probably were a number of polities with commercial centers along the river that engaged in intensive interregional exchange, long-​distance trade, and peer-​polity competition. All of these required dependable communication, and it is probably in this context that the administrative system was first developed. Soon after the appearance of cylinder seals and sealed commodities, other writing media were explored. The range of these is still best illustrated by the contents of a large tomb at Abydos dating to ca. 3250 bc, or Naqada IIIA in relative chronological terms. Tomb U-​j probably belonged to a powerful ruler and descendant of a group of Abydene elites that had been buried in Cemetery U since early Chalcolithic times.98 This, the largest funerary structure of its time, was comprised of twelve subterranean, mud-​brick-​lined chambers, covering ca. 125 sq m.99 This tomb contained large numbers of Egyptian pottery and stone vessels. In addition, it contained various imported goods, such as obsidian, cedar wood, and turquoise, and several hundred imported ceramic wine jars from as far afield as northern Lebanon.100 It appears that these jars were inspected and sealed on arrival in Egypt, as the clay sealings, upon which cylinder seals with geometric and figural designs were impressed, were made of local Nile silt. In addition, large quantities of tiny bone tags with holes for attachment to containers of commodities, possibly textiles, were recovered. These were inscribed with some of the earliest hieroglyphic consonant signs as well as number signs.101 While the reading of many

98. Hartung 2016. 99. Dreyer 1998. 100. Hartung 2001; Hartung et al. 2015. 101. Dreyer 1998.

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of these inscriptions is disputed,102 some present relatively unambiguous readings, such as Egyptian place names like Djebaut (Buto) or Baset (Bubastis), which may be interpreted as the place of origin of some of the commodities to which the tags were attached. The presence of number signs also suggests that the quantity of these goods mattered and was therefore recorded. In addition, Tomb U-​j contained Egyptian ceramic oil vessels with ink inscriptions. These are the direct antecedents of slightly later ink inscriptions that record tax levies from different regions. The tomb’s excavator, Günter Dreyer, interpreted some of the ink signs as the personal names of rulers and the inscriptions as references to their agricultural estates. A large number of vessels bore representations of scorpions, which prompted Dreyer to name the tomb owner Scorpion I.103 The evidence from Tomb U-​j thus suggests that by ca. 3250 bc Abydos elites had access to a wide-​ranging trade network that dealt in manufactured goods of both local Egyptian and Levantine origin. In addition, these elites engaged in administrative transactions involving the quantification and recording of commodities. Similar, contemporary evidence, especially cylinder seals and sealings, has been found at other sites such as Naqada104 in the south and Zawyet el-​Aryan105 and Helwan106 in the northern Nile valley, pointing to the existence of comparable administrative institutions in different parts of the country at this time. These institutions most likely catered for the needs of regional polities and their rulers, whose control of manufacturing industries, agricultural production, and trade routes became more pronounced as time passed. During the Protodynastic period, these polities had both direct and indirect contacts with regions well beyond their territories, including different

102. Breyer 2002; Dreyer 1998; Kahl 2003. 103. Scorpion II would consequently be the owner of one of the mace heads from the Main Deposit at Hierakonpolis, which dates a few generations later. 104. Di Pietro 2017. 105. Hartung 1998. 106. Köhler 1999.

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parts of the Egyptian Nile valley, the adjacent deserts, Nubia, and almost the entire area from the Levant to Mesopotamia. It appears that at the time of Tomb U-​j, wine was imported into Egypt and was not yet produced locally. It is not known when exactly viticulture and wine production started in Egypt, but the emergence of specially manufactured local Egyptian wine jars would support the inception being toward the end of the Protodynastic period, ca. 3100 bc. Such vessels were found in a tomb at Abydos assigned to the Protodynastic ruler Iry-​Hor (B0-​2), and some of the jars contained grape seeds.107 Interestingly, at this time the earliest Egyptian wine jars, which are very large, well-​made ceramic vessels, are common at several different sites and bear the names of many different Protodynastic rulers in combination with buildings, possibly their residences, as well as the falcon god Horus. This may indicate that wine was produced under their control in different parts of the country. Some of the same rulers are mentioned in inscriptions found on the Sinai peninsula,108 suggesting that they also engaged in organized mining expeditions to acquire raw materials such as copper ore and malachite, which probably complemented regular interregional trade and exchange along the Nile.

2.8.  Social organization, complexity, and power The past few decades have witnessed growth in scholarly interest in the origins of early Egyptian state society and kingship. This has also been one of the most challenging areas of research, especially because Egyptian archaeology must still rely heavily on funerary data and artistic representations. In particular, the towering concept of pharaonic kingship so manifestly embodied in the royal monumental art and architecture of the Old Kingdom has tended to overshadow inquiries into the origins of the state and complex society.

107. Köhler in Dreyer et al. 1996: 52. 108. Tallet 2015; Tallet and Laisney 2012.

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In the light of currently available evidence, it is difficult to determine the social organization of the first Egyptian village communities, especially as there is scope for a range of lifestyles and choices of habitation, whether seasonal or permanent, which were obviously related to social organization. Where permanent occupation of a village is indicated, but with little evidence of specialist craft industries or social ranking, such as at Merimde-​Benisalame, a degree of economic egalitarianism, inherited from the postulated hunter-​gatherer band organization,109 can probably be assumed. Since the assumption of perfect socioeconomic equality is unrealistic and there is next to no evidence for social ranking or institutionalized leadership during the sixth and early fifth millennia bc, the application of the concept of “transegalitarian” society seems most appropriate for this time period. This concept describes societies without clearly defined political power structures, institutions, and social ranking but with evidence of inequality in terms of wealth and resources.110 But as soon as ranking and differential access to resources are indicated, such as in the region of Badari during the late fifth millennium bc, it is necessary to reconsider the nature of this kind of social organization, which turns out to be difficult. In comparison to other ancient societies in North Africa and the Levant, a social structure based on tribal kinship seems to be problematic in Egyptian civilization, especially in a nonelite context. For example, in pharaonic times, kinship was rooted in the nuclear family or household, with lineages of little more than three generations, and especially in the community of residence, that is, the village or town. To what extent this also applies to prehistoric societies in the Egyptian Nile valley is unclear, particularly in light of variability in expressions of social status and leadership.111 As previously noted, funerary customs in Upper Egypt expressed social distinction and elite status, particularly during the fourth millennium bc, when there seems to have been a specific focus on dominant

109. Calmettes and Weis 2017. 110. Garrido-​Pena 2006; Hayden 1995; Price and Bar-​Yosef 2012. 111. Campagno 2016; 2017; Köhler 2017.

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male individuals in art. It is therefore very likely that social organization corresponded at this time to a chiefdom. On the other hand, the limited funerary evidence from Lower Egypt, where graves are far less elaborate and variable, suggests less social differentiation.112 In the past, this difference was interpreted as evidence of a lower level of social complexity in the north,113 and even for the separation of the north as a different culture or ethnic complex. Conversely, the south was said to be the driving force in the march toward complex society, kingship, and civilization in general.114 In recent years this view has changed somewhat, especially since current research on the development of chiefdoms and institutionalized leadership in general has allowed for a wide spectrum of possibilities, from corporate organization of power that places less focus on individuals to exclusionary networks of power centering around a dominant leader, which can both be found in chiefdoms.115 In this regard, it is possible to view Chalcolithic society, for example at Maadi, as more on the corporate organization side of the continuum, whereas contemporary societies at Abydos, Naqada, and Hierakonpolis seem to occupy the other end of the spectrum of exclusionary networks of power. While Maadian chiefs invested their economic wealth in raw materials, production facilities, trade, and limited symbols of power, southern leaders obviously spent their economic gains on funerary feasts and ostentatious burials.116 Recent excavations in the elite cemetery HK6 at Hierakonpolis by Renée Friedman and her team have demonstrated the great extent to which some southern chiefs channeled resources into their burials.117

112. For Minshat Abu Omar:  Kroeper 2004; Kroeper and Wildung 1985; 1994; 2000. For Kom el-​Khilgan:  Buchez and Midant-​Reynes 2007; 2011. For Maadi: Rizkana and Seeher 1990; Seeher 1992. 113. Cf. Hartung 2013; 2014; Seeher 1991; 1992. 114. Kaiser 1990. 115. Feinman 2012; Flannery 1999; Price and Feinman 2012. 116. Hoffman 1979: 200; Köhler 2017. 117. Friedman 2008; Friedman et al. 2011.

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They even integrated a menagerie of wild and domesticated fauna in their elite cemetery, which is probably symbolic of their claim to territory and possession,118 and also employed architectural elements such as large superstructures above individual tombs, whose emblematic expression of lasting power continues well into the pharaonic period.119 With over 450 burials, the contemporary cemetery at HK43, on the other hand, has been interpreted as the burial ground of workers or commoners.120 The archaeological evidence at Hierakonpolis suggests that social organization during the Chalcolithic period can probably be regarded as a two-​tiered chiefdom with dominant, individual leaders. A significant change was probably caused by the economic growth of the commercial centers and especially the introduction of bureaucracy and writing. However, not all of the personnel involved would have necessarily been elites. These specialists, managers, and officials would have assumed a very different social role and status in comparison to craftsmen and farmers because they assisted and acted on behalf of the leaders of their time, managed their estates and wealth, and fostered their leaders’ economic and political interests. As this division of managerial roles and capacities became more and more entrenched in the social organization of such a polity and socioeconomic inequality increased, vertical social differentiation became more hierarchical and eventually developed into a multi-​tiered society, which is obviously one characteristic of state societies. The archaeological evidence pertaining to this development is patchy and unevenly distributed across the country, but there are indications that this process took place on a regional basis from the beginning of the Protodynastic period. Although some sites, like Abydos, stand out because of particularly well-​preserved evidence, there is also implicit and indirect evidence from other areas that suggests a parallel development. For example, in the area of Gerza and Tarkhan, a settlement must have existed already during the late Chalcolithic period whose population

118. Hendrickx 2014: 269. 119. Friedman 2008; Friedman et al. 2011. 120. Friedman 1999.

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was ranked, having differential access to resources and ascribed, that is, inherited, status in the upper echelons of society.121 The Protodynastic period is also characterized by the growth of socioeconomic inequality.122 This is well-​illustrated in the large necropolis at Tarkhan, where Petrie excavated more than two thousand Proto-​and Early Dynastic graves and some elite tombs. Around 3200 bc the cemetery probably served a fairly large and important regional center with a ruling elite. Its leaders not only employed writing but also made use of a new form of elite distinction, divine legitimation, which is suggested by a small number of inscriptions.123 These are some of the first royal names in the form of serekhs (palace façades) on cylinder seals and pottery vessels that seem to appear simultaneously across the country, for example at Buto, Tura, Helwan, and Abydos (see figure 2.4).124 These attest to the close relationship between the ruler and the falcon god Horus, a divinity that would later be closely related to pharaonic kingship. This was a means of legitimizing and validating Protodynastic rulers. Since ostentatious elite burials and a focus on individual leaders did not have much of a tradition in this area, it is possible that through the dynamics of peer-​polity competition, and by engaging with powerful southern counterparts, northern power arrangements also eventually shifted toward dominant individuals. It is not currently possible to determine where the initial idea of divine rulership originated, although the south has a better claim than the north. Nevertheless, both northern and southern rulers quickly adopted the idea and embraced it as a perfect means to express power and political dominance within and outside their polities. This increasing emphasis on dominant individuals in Egypt can also be seen in the art of the fourth millennium bc.

121. Stevenson 2009. 122. Ellis 1996. 123. Dreyer 1992. 124. Jimenez-​Serrano 2003; Kaiser 1964; 1982; van den Brink 1996; van den Brink and Köhler 2002.

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Figure  2.4.  Examples of Protodynastic serekhs from various sites in Egypt. Prepared by E.C. Köhler.

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2.9.  Art and artistic expressions of power The study of prehistoric and Protodynastic art in Egypt can draw on a wide array of media,125 including carved rock art in the deserts;126 figurines, statuettes, and statues of different materials, including clay, ivory, stone, and gold-​sheet;127 painted pottery;128 the painted walls of Tomb 100 at Hierakonpolis (HK100); a painted linen textile from Gebelein; and elaborately carved ivory knife handles,129 combs, and stone cosmetic palettes. Obviously prehistoric art was probably rarely made for its own aesthetic value, but rather to convey ideas of magical, symbolic, or religious significance and to represent spiritual and otherworldly concepts.130 Prehistoric art can also be seen as a means of expressing social identity and differentiation. Since a large number of high-​quality artworks come from the antiquities market or were excavated at a time when archaeological standards were poor and thus lack secure archaeological context, it is obviously difficult to determine their original function, meaning, and possible role in rituals, even if the majority of prehistoric artistic expressions were created for such purposes. Even where an archaeological context is recorded, as in an early sanctuary, there is still significant information missing today because the artwork’s symbolic meaning and function may have been conveyed only via the performance of rituals, accompanied by offerings, prayers, incantations, dance, music, or the consumption of hallucinogenic drugs. This lack of ritual context should be kept in mind when interpretation is attempted. Artistic representations from the centuries immediately prior to the historical era have

125. Patch 2011 provides a good summary. 126. Hendrickx et al. 2009. 127. Chłodnicki and Ciałowicz 2007; Ciałowicz in Chłodnicki et  al. 2012:  203; Harrington 2004; 2006; Josephson 2015. 128. Graff 2009. 129. Dreyer 1999; 2010. 130. Morphy and Perkins 2008.

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often been used as sources of historical significance in the past,131 but a great deal of scope exists for the introduction of a more contemporary approach involving art theory and culture-​anthropological analogies. Of particular interest here is an imagery of virility, power, and subjugation that is preserved in various media and spans a very long time, from the late Neolithic until well into the pharaonic period.132 This enormous degree of iconographic continuity has made it very tempting to assume continuity of meaning,133 but obviously this material must be treated with caution. This applies especially to a motif that can be found on late Neolithic ceramic vessels of “White Crossline” ware, that is, bowls and flasks made from Nile silt with a red polished surface and designs in white paint, which were found in southern tombs.134 While most of the vessels are decorated with linear and floral patterns, a small number of vessels exhibit figural representations that incorporate hunting scenes, dominant anthropomorphic figures, and captives.135 A  similar choice of motifs can be found in the painted tableau of the late Chalcolithic tomb HK100, which also includes several boat representations and various wild animals (see figure 2.5) that clearly recall the designs found on contemporary Decorated ware. The fact that hunting had not played a role in subsistence for a very long time and that most of these figural representations of hunting were found in funerary contexts removes this imagery beyond the sphere of regular daily life concerns and into a realm of symbolism, allegory, and metaphor. Scenes of interpersonal conflict and subjugation (of humans and wild animals), which draw attention to the figure of the victor and underline the idea and ideals of the dominant leader in southern Egypt, are also noteworthy. Such scenes range from killing (e.g., Hunters Palette) or taming adult lions (e.g., HK100, Gebel el-​Arak knife handle)

131. Kaiser 1964; Hendrickx 2014. 132. Hendrickx 2006; 2010; Hendrickx and Eyckerman 2010; Köhler 2002. 133. Hendrickx 2014: 267–​271. 134. Finkenstaedt 1980; Graff 2009. 135. Hartmann 2016; Köhler 1998b; 2002.

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Figure  2.5.  Painted wall tableau in Tomb 100 at Hierakonpolis (HK100). Prepared by E.C. Köhler.

to tying up or smiting single captives or groups of captives with clubs (e.g., White Crossline pottery, HK100, Narmer Palette). It has been observed that prehistoric representations of this motif lack specific iconographic details that would allow us to identify the persons shown. This may be due to the artistic medium not providing the scope needed to include much detail. Nevertheless, on the basis of the chronological and sociocultural context of each example, it is possible to conjecture that in the late Neolithic and Chalcolithic periods the individuals involved in such scenes would have been persons of status or chiefs, including outsiders from other communities, that is, representatives of hostile neighboring villages and polities. In time, and with the advent of the territorial state at the end of the Protodynastic period, the iconography of the enemy was reconfigured to signify persons external to the Nile valley proper, that is, foreigners. This could suggest that the motif was initially deployed to signify the leader’s protective role in relation to his immediate kin and community and later to express cultural or ethnic identity and to thereby symbolize an increased sense of supra-​kinship or even supra-​regional cohesion.136 This iconography and the aggressive, polarizing language of idealized power, order, victory, protection, strength, and virility on the one hand, and weakness, subjugation, and defeat on the other, remained one of the most enduring aspects of ancient Egyptian representations of power until the end of the pharaonic era.

136. Köhler 2002.

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2.10.  State formation in Egypt As already emphasized, it would probably be inappropriate to search for a narrative to describe Egypt’s path to civilization and pharaonic kingship in the prehistoric era, given that there just is no simple, clear-​cut linear development in the region. Although there are several prehistoric sites in Egypt, such as Hierakonpolis and Abydos, where the archaeological evidence exhibits an enormous degree of chronological depth and continuity and where significant developments can be observed, these will only ever illustrate one aspect of a much more complex web of stories, because ultimately the early Egyptian state was the product of a multitude of processes and actors. And although prehistoric Egyptian art is rich in artistic motifs and media and is sometimes intensively searched for any piece of information in lieu of written records, it unfortunately does not convey an illustration of postulated historical events leading up to the “unification of the Two Lands” of Egypt, achieved by a victorious Upper Egyptian king called Menes or Narmer. Egyptian civilization was also not the result of a single dominant culture, race, or polity migrating from east to west137 or from south to north138 that conquered or assimilated whatever cultures may have been in its way. Basically, what we know today is how the process of state formation did not unfold. The difficulty in arriving at a positive result is that prehistoric archaeology rarely produces the data to write history, at least the kind of history that scholars of the nineteenth and most of the twentieth centuries pursued. Only in the last few decades has Egyptian prehistoric archaeology engaged with current archaeological theory and other methodical approaches to interpret archaeological evidence and consider cultural process instead of culture history.139 Unsurprisingly, there is no one theory that can explain this process but rather a whole range of theoretical approaches that offer possible avenues to assist our learning.

137. Petrie and Quibell 1896. 138. Buchez and Midant-​Reynes 2011; Kaiser 1957; 1990; Stevenson 2009. 139. Hoffman 1979; Köhler 1995; 2010b; Stevenson 2016; Wengrow 2006.

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It is also important to distinguish between the concept of Egyptian civilization and the Egyptian state.140 Norman Yoffee’s definition of early civilization as a “larger social order and set of shared values” helps to identify one of the key aspects, maybe even preconditions—​albeit without mutual interdependence—​for the early territorial state of Egypt.141 The emergence of a shared set of values and social order is primarily due to the significant sociocultural developments that occurred during the fifth millennium bc, in particular the foundation of agricultural villages along the Nile. As soon as the Nile valley inhabitants, with their diverse ancestry from northeastern Africa and the southern Levant, were permanently settled and fully adapted to the annual ecological cycle of inundation, growth, and harvest, the conditions were set for village societies to grow and develop a social order based on kinship and village community. The success of agricultural subsistence required far more social interaction and cooperation beyond the kin group than did a hunter-​ gatherer or pastoral existence, which means that specific social structures developed that facilitated decision-​making processes within these village communities. Those places where ecological conditions were favorable and where the community had found an agreeable arrangement for decision-​making and conflict resolution, whether in the hands of a representative group of persons or of one individual at a time, would have been locations where population density increased. In such settings craft production could flourish. At the same time, agriculture and animal husbandry remained the essential economic foundations upon which each community was based. The fourth millennium bc saw a consolidation of these socioeconomic conditions and a rise in commercial centers and polities along the river that became focal points for industrial production, trade, and exchange of raw materials and processed goods; communication; and the transfer of technologies and ideas. Catalyzed by river transport, the cognitive, intellectual, and social horizons of these communities would have enlarged, as did the potential for competition and

140. Trigger 2003. 141. Yoffee 2005: 17.

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conflict with neighbors up and down the river. Access to and safe passage along the river were therefore of utmost importance for the progress and economic well-​being of these polities and their leaders. Any insecurity or threat in this regard would make them most vulnerable to failure and economic loss. In this environment, the efficiency and abilities of a community’s leaders would have been tested and validated. This may have further contributed to an articulation of institutionalized leadership and social differentiation. While symbols of power were probably utilized by most of these leaders, some of the southern chiefs engaged more aggressively in self-​aggrandizement and validation, expressed in the public display of wealth, ritual art, and funerary feasts. This was probably also the environment in which early sanctuaries assumed a role beyond being places of interaction with spirits and divinities to locations where the cohesion and substance of the community were strengthened and where leaders could publicly display their loyalty and support.142 Toward the end of the fourth millennium, some towns or polities may have been more successful than others, and the rich archaeological evidence at Naqada, Abydos, and Hierakonpolis opens a window onto a possible scenario of how southern polities may have caused political change. Separated from each other by ca. 130–​180 km of territory, all three seem to have been regionally dominant and economically successful polities during the Chalcolithic period, as measured by population size and elite cemeteries. At different times, each may have experienced periods of growth and decline, at least as measured by the size of elite tombs, with Abydos declining ca. 3500 bc (Naqada IIC), just at the time when Naqada and Hierakonpolis were on the rise.143 Soon after, it was Naqada that started to fall off the political map of Upper Egypt in favor of Hierakonpolis and Abydos. This has been interpreted as a political process, as inter-​polity competition and the eventual emergence of a single Upper Egyptian proto-​kingdom under the rule of Abydos, from whence the First Dynasty kings would arise before they

142. Bussmann 2010; 2011. 143. Hartung 2016: 189; Hendrickx and Friedman 2003.

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conquered the rest of Egypt ca. 3050 bc.144 While this scenario is not impossible, there is very little evidence to support this political narrative, and there are alternative explanations that emphasize more localized, possibly self-​inflicted causes of decline.145 If tomb size is anything to go by, the rulers of Protodynastic Abydos—​“Dynasty 0,” characterized by a group of tombs preceding the First Dynasty royal necropolis at Umm el-​Qaab—​were not particularly wealthy and powerful. Although these individuals—​including Iry-​Hor and Ka/​Sekhen, whose serekhs can be found at many other sites in Egypt and the Levant—​may have been influential rulers and successful entrepreneurs, with large vineyards that produced wine in their names, the situation is complicated by the fact that they were not the only powerful individuals of their day. Rather, the numerous contemporary Protodynastic serekhs suggest that there were several proto-​kingdoms along the Nile River and in the delta ca. 3200 bc, and that state formation was taking place simultaneously in different parts of the country. We have seen that social differentiation and the emergence of a hierarchical, multi-​tiered society were probably catalyzed by economic growth and by the development of writing and bureaucracy, which had obviously also occurred in different parts of the country just at that time. The evidence currently available suggests that primary state formation was happening independently at a regional level and that this polycentric political landscape lasted for about 150  years. During this time, the different polities engaged in active trade, communication, and probably peer-​polity competition, possibly employing violence,146 economic pressure, and/​or diplomacy. These rulers also employed the same language, as expressed in the very short and limited hieroglyphic inscriptions available, epitomized by the concept of the serekh, which always places the ruler and his residence in union with Horus. By that stage, there was clearly a larger social order and a shared set of values among

144. Campagno 2002; 2004; Kemp 2018: fig. 2.5. 145. Köhler 2017. 146. It is worth noting that there is no evidence as yet for relevant interpersonal violence in the physical-​anthropological record of that time period.

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the Nile valley’s inhabitants, which rested on agricultural subsistence, a common social and economic organization, comparable settlement systems, material culture, ideologies, and belief systems, as well as a sense of community and kinship in the different villages and towns. Primary state formation at a regional level took place within this culturally fertile environment of Egyptian civilization. Around 3050 bc, after a period of seeming stability, all of this changed, and we have no narrative and no evidence to inform us about how and why this change occurred. We are faced with the outcome of unknown processes. The descendants of the Abydene Dynasty 0, possibly individuals such as Narmer or Hor-​Aha, are probably to be considered game changers because they seem to have managed to bring the Nile valley under their political control. The early First Dynasty sees a whole range of new developments with the establishment of centralized government and the consolidation of Memphis (Inbu-​hedj) as the primary center, as well as the start of a process that resulted in the economic and administrative integration of this new, large state territory of Egypt. This was also the time when the kings of early Egypt recognized that the very nature of the new state that they now oversaw had dramatically changed from their local Abydene territory to a vast expanse covering thousands of square kilometers of river plain, delta, and deserts, which called for entirely new ideologies and expressions of power for the kings. Because what happened during the First Dynasty is so very different from the processes involved in primary state formation, it is possible to speak of secondary state formation that built upon but did not simply continue what the Protodynastic rulers had achieved. Envisaging the prehistoric Egyptian Nile valley as a complex cultural system with a variety of dynamically related subsystems certainly helps us to understand that the emergence of the early state comprised a multitude of threads and trajectories that in one way or another contributed to the historical result of pharaonic Egypt. Once this was achieved, this historical end product was not cast in concrete but continued to change and adapt to the circumstances of the time. When considering Egyptian history à la longue durée, the polycentric political landscape of Protodynastic Egypt appears as a default setting to which the political

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system kept reversing at times of weak centralized power during the “Intermediate Periods,” while maintaining all the hallmarks and qualities that characterized Egyptian civilization. R ef er en c es Adams, B. 1974a. Ancient Hierakonpolis. London: Aris & Phillips. Adams, B. 1974b. Ancient Hierakonpolis, supplement. London: Aris & Phillips. Anderson, D.A. 2006. Power and competition in the Upper Egyptian Predynastic: a view from the Predynastic settlement at el-​Mahasna, Egypt. PhD thesis, University of Pittsburgh. Anderson, W. 1992. Badarian burials: evidence for social inequality in Middle Egypt during the Early Predynastic era. JARCE 29: 51–​80. Arredi, B., Poloni, E.S., Paracchini, S., Zerjal, T., Fathallah, D.M., Makrelouf, M., Pascali, V.L., Novelletto, A.  and Tyler-​Smith, C.  2004. A  predominantly Neolithic origin for y-​chromosomal DNA variation in North Africa. The American Journal of Human Genetics 75: 338−345. Baines, J. 2004. The earliest Egyptian writing: development, context, purpose. In Houston, S.D. (ed.), The first writing: script invention as history and process. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 150–​189. Baines, J. 2005. Literacy, social organization and the archaeological record: the case of early Egypt. In Gledhill, J., Bender, B. and Larsen, M.T. (eds.), State and society: the emergence and development of social hierarchy and political centralization. London and New York: Routledge, 192–​214. Bajeot, J. 2017. Predynastic Maadi in context: the research of the Italian expedition revisited (1977–​1986). Rome: Università di Roma “La Sapienza”. Bard, K.A. 1994. From farmers to pharaohs: mortuary evidence for the rise of complex society. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Bar-​Yosef, O. 2013. Nile valley—​Levant interaction:  an eclectic review. In Shirai, N. (ed.), The Neolithisation of northeastern Africa. Berlin:  ex oriente, 237–​247. Brass, M. 2017. Early North African cattle domestication and its ecological setting: a reassessment. JWP 31: 81–​115. Breyer, F.A.K. 2002. Die Schriftzeugnisse des prädynastischen Königsgrabes U-​j in Umm el-​Qaab: Versuch einer Neuinterpretation. JEA 88: 53–​65. Bronk Ramsey, C. and Shortland, A.J. (eds.) 2013. Radiocarbon and the chronologies of ancient Egypt. Oxford: Oxbow.

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Vermeersch, P.M., Linseele, V., Marinova, E., Van Neer, W., Moyersons, J. and Rethemeyer, J. 2015. Early and Middle Holocene human occupation of the Egyptian Eastern Desert:  Sodmein Cave. African Archaeological Review 32: 465–​503. Vermeersch, P.M., Paulissen, E., Van Peer, P., Stokes, S., Charlier, C. et al. 1998. A Middle Palaeolithic burial of a modern human at Taramsa Hill, Egypt. Antiquity 72: 475–​484. Von der Way, T. 1991. Die Grabungen in Buto und die Reichseinigung. MDAIK 47: 419–​424. Von der Way, T. 1992. Excavations at Tell el-​Fara’in/​Buto in 1987–​1989. In Van den Brink, E.C.M. (ed.), The Nile Delta in transition, 4th–​3rd millennium bc. Tel Aviv: Van den Brink, 1–​10. Von der Way, T. 1993. Untersuchungen zur Spätvor-​und Frühgeschichte Unterägyptens. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. Von der Way, T. 1997. Tell el-​Fara’în—​Buto, I: Ergebnisse zum frühen Kontext, Kampagnen der Jahre 1983–​1989. Mainz: Zabern. Warfe, A.R. 2017. Prehistoric pottery from Dakhla Oasis, Egypt. Oxford: Oxbow. Wendorf, F. and Schild, R. 1976. Prehistory of the Nile valley. New York: Academic Press. Wendorf, F. and Schild, R. 1998. Nabta Playa and its role in northeastern African prehistory. JAA 17: 97–​123. Wendorf, F. and Schild, R. 2001. Holocene settlement of the Egyptian Sahara, 1: the archaeology of Nabta Playa. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Wendorf, F. and Schild, R. 2004. The Western Desert during the 5th and 4th millennia bc:  the Late and Final Neolithic in the Nabta-​Kiseiba area. Archéo-​Nil 14: 13–​30. Wendrich, W. and Cappers, R. 2005. Egypt’s earliest granaries: evidence from the Fayum. Egyptian Archaeology 27: 12–​15. Wendrich, W., Taylor, R.E. and Southon, J. 2009. Dating stratified settlement sites at Kom K and Kom W: fifth millennium bc radiocarbon ages for the Fayum Neolithic. Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research B 268: 999–​1002. Wengrow, D. 2006. The archaeology of early Egypt:  social transformations in northeast Africa, 10,000 to 2650 bc. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press. Wengrow, D., Dee, M., Foster, S., Stevenson, A. and Bronk Ramsey, C. 2014. Cultural convergence in the Nile valley Neolithic: a prehistoric perspective on Egypt’s place in Africa. Antiquity 88: 95–​111.

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Wilkinson, T.A.H. 1996. State formation in Egypt:  chronology and society. Oxford: Basingstoke Press. Wilson, P., Gilbert, G. and Tassie, G. 2014. Sais, II: the prehistoric period at Sa el-​Hagar Oxford: Oxbow. Yoffee, N. 2005. Myths of the archaic state: evolution of the earliest cities, states and civilizations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ziermann, M. 1993. Elephantine, XVI: Befestigungsanlagen der älteren Stadt (Frühzeit und Altes Reich). Mainz: Zabern.

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3

The Uruk Phenomenon Gebhard J. Selz

3.1.  Introduction The city of Uruk (modern Warka) in southern Iraq has played a salient role in history that has long occupied the minds of scholars.1 In the fourth millennium bc (Late Chalcolithic), Uruk was the main force for urbanization and state formation in Mesopotamia during the Uruk period,2 which takes its name from this “first city.” The Uruk period was formative for the social, political, and cultural history of Mesopotamia and beyond. Scholars were initially attracted to Uruk because of its mention in Genesis 10:10 (as Erech), and interest grew in the aftermath of the discovery in the mid-​nineteenth century of the Gilgamesh epic in the royal Assyrian library of the seventh century bc in Nineveh, especially as it includes the “Flood Story,” with its close parallels to the biblical narrative; Uruk figures prominently in the epic as the city of Gilgamesh. The 1. My thanks to Denise Bolton (Munich) for language-​editing this chapter. 2. Cf. Butterlin 2003: 59–​96 and further Liverani 1996; 2006; Gibson 2000; Glassner 2000; Westenholz 2002; Huot 2004; Oates et al. 2007; Ur 2010; Emberling 2010; Reichel 2011b; McMahon 2013; Frangipane 2018. Gebhard J. Selz, The Uruk Phenomenon In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0004.

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Sumerian King List names Enmerkar, “who founded Uruk,” as well as Lugalbanda and Gilgamesh as kings of the “First Dynasty of Uruk,”3 and the subsequent recovery of the Sumerian literary tradition has provided further information on these important figures. However, all these sources are literary works and cannot be taken at face value for the historical reconstruction of Uruk’s early history.4 The Uruk culture, which is the topic of this chapter, was first and most exhaustively documented by the German excavations at Uruk (see section 3.2) where a deep sounding5 in the temple district of E’ana (also Eanna in the secondary literature) provided an archaeological sequence on which the relative chronology of the Uruk period is based.6 The Uruk period shaped the major part of the fourth millennium bc in southern Mesopotamia. For most of this period, the available sources are exclusively archaeological remains, as written sources are only available for the Late Uruk period (Uruk IVa-​b) and the subsequent “transitional” period (Uruk III/​Jemdet Nasr) and are difficult to interpret (see section 3.4.3).7 Despite numerous changes and innovations, the Uruk culture was rooted in the preceding Early Chalcolithic period, the (Southern) Ubaid culture, which in its later phase saw typical Ubaid ceramics spread from the south into northern Mesopotamia. This continuity is perhaps most 3. Jacobsen 1939. 4. There are numerous discussions of the relationship between historical facts and emic literary reception, including Michalowski 1983; 1999; Liverani 2004; Steinkeller 2017. 5. With the levels XIII to IV; see Sürenhagen 1986b; 1986–​1987; Eichmann 1989: 39–​44; Butterlin 2003: 286–​294, 439–​444; van Ess 2016: 460–​462. 6. Nissen 2012: 42–​43. A revision of the entire stratigraphy of Uruk has made finer distinctions possible, with levels labeled GS (for Gesamtstratigraphie, i.e., complete stratigraphy), followed by a number:  Eichmann 1989:  Beilage 106. As the conventional labeling of building phases is still widely used, we employ it also in this chapter. The table in van Ess 2016: 461 offers a useful concordance, while van Ess 2013a provides a brief overview of the history of the excavations. 7. For references to these texts, the following abbreviations are used: IM = accession number of the Iraq Museum, Baghdad; MS  =  accession number of the Martin Schøyen Collection, Oslo; VAT  =  accession number of the Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin; W = excavation number of the Uruk/​Warka expedition.

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apparent in the architecture of its representative buildings, with the tripartite ground plan of the Ubaid period attested in Eridu (Level VIII, Ubaid phase 2) and Tepe Gawra, matching the plan of Middle and Late Uruk period buildings.8 Characteristic features of Uruk’s material culture, and their accompanying processes of urbanization, are attested at sites far beyond southern Mesopotamia (see figure 3.1).9 This is generally assumed to be the result of the expansion of the Uruk state, the reasons for which are as debated as this polity’s structure is.10 In order to avoid the terminological difficulties associated with using such terms as “Uruk world system”11 or “Uruk empire” and “Uruk imperialism,”12 recent literature favors the more neutral term “Uruk phenomenon”13 to refer to the dissemination of Uruk-​type material culture from its origins in the heartland of southern Mesopotamia. From a different perspective, the Uruk phenomenon has also been called the “Uruk intrusion.”14 This phenomenon was short-​lived, as Uruk’s influence lasted not more than five hundred years.15 New carbon-​14 and dendrochronological

8. McMahon 2016:  261–​265, esp.  261–​262; for architectural continuities in the Middle Euphrates region see Fuensanta and Salazar 2013. 9. Cf. the collected essays in Rothman 2001 and their discussion in Potts 2004; see further Dittmann 1986; 2012. For a definition and description of Uruk-​type sites see Butterlin 2003: 232–​254. See also section 3.3. 10. The most important positions on the Uruk expansion are summarized in Butterlin 2003:  97–​158, charting the greatly varying views of different authors:  Alden 1982:  144 fig.  28; Sürenhagen 1986a:  109 fig.  18; Schwartz 1988:  118–​119 figs. 20–​21; Johnson 1989: 129 fig. 25; Algaze 1993: 190 fig. 16; Henrickson 1994: 147 fig.  29; Hole 1994:  129 fig.  26; Frangipane 1996:  123–​124 figs. 23–​24; Stein 1999a:  118–​120 figs. 20–​22; Rothman 2001:  138 fig.  27; Schwartz 2001:  120 fig. 22; Algaze 2001: 106 fig. 17. 11. Algaze 1993; Englund 2006. 12. Algaze 2001: 30–​31; 2005. 13. For example, Nissen 1999:  210–​212 (with earlier literature); 2012:  249–​251; Collins 2000; and many others. 14. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 180–​210. 15. Rothman 2001: 5–​6.

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Figure 3.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 3. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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data indicate that the Uruk IV level (and with it the Late Uruk period) ended around 3300 bc.16 The ensuing “transitional” period corresponds to the Uruk III level. In the city of Uruk, it is marked by a massive architectural restructuring of the eastern parts of the E’ana precinct, with a complete razing of prior structures. However, other aspects of material culture continued, most notably the distinctive written documentation in proto-​cuneiform. Uruk III is therefore often seen as the final phase of the Late Uruk period but is sometimes also referred to as the Jemdet Nasr period (after the eponymous site in central Mesopotamia).17 The key indicator for this period is a distinctive painted monochrome or polychrome pottery featuring both geometric and figurative designs.18 Only after the “collapse” of the Uruk culture (see section 3.6) can we observe the fragmentation and regional diversification so characteristic of the ensuing Early Dynastic periods of the first two thirds of the third millennium bc (see c­ hapter 8).

3.2.  The city of Uruk and the key elements of the Uruk culture The city of Uruk was the administrative center of the region, with an advanced and elaborate form of labor division. In the Late Uruk period, during the Uruk IVa phase, the city reached a size of at least 2.5 sq km. This almost doubled in the subsequent Uruk IVb phase but declined afterward. In the late fourth and at the beginning of the third millennia bc, Uruk was by far the largest city in the ancient Near East, and approximately ten times larger than the next largest settlement in the wider region, Susa in southwestern Iran. For comparison, imperial Rome of the first century ad was approximately twice Uruk’s size. Cautious estimates posit a minimum population of some twenty-​five thousand

16. Some two hundred years earlier than previously assumed; see van Ess 2013b on the carbon-​14 datings. 17. Finkbeiner and Röllig 1986. 18. Matthews 1992; 2002.

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Figure  3.2. E’ana district of Uruk, Uruk IV period. Plan adapted from Lamassu Design via Wikimedia Commons (https://​commons.wikimedia.org/​ w/​index.php?curid=6438709), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 3.0 (CC BY-​SA 3.0) license.

to fifty thousand people, with many more living in adjacent settlements that were dependent on Uruk.19 During the Uruk period, the city consisted of two mounds, E’ana in the east and Kulaba (or the Anu district) in the west, each with characteristic archaeological remains. These names are borrowed from much later tradition, and it is uncertain whether they are at all appropriate for the Uruk period. E’ana (see figure 3.2) literally means “house of the sky/​ (god) An” but was the domain of the Venus-​like deity Inana (“lady of heaven”; also called Inanna in secondary literature); it remained dedicated to the goddess until the Seleucid era in the late first millennium bc.

19. Nissen 1983: 79; 2012: 58–​59; Postgate 1994.

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On the other hand, Kulaba was the cult center of the sky god An; when this connection was first established remains unknown.20 Uruk was eventually surrounded by a wall, but probably not before the end of the Late Uruk period and the beginning of the Early Dynastic period; the construction of these fortifications may be connected to the fundamental societal changes occurring at this time.21

3.2.1  Pottery In southern Mesopotamia, specific Uruk-​type ceramics gradually superseded the Ubaid types and are today used for identifying the reach of the Uruk culture.22 The introduction of the potter’s wheel marks the divide between the Ubaid and Uruk periods,23 and there were other technological refinements in pottery production,24 including the use of ceramic ring scrapers.25 Among the numerous types considered to be characteristic of Uruk-​period ceramic production are “conical bowls; jars with thickened, rounded, everted rims; jars with sharp-​angled rims; jars with short, out-​turned necks and flat rims; and jars without turned-​necks and thickened, flattened rims, with additional strap handles and tapering spouts.”26 Typical decorations include “incised parallel horizontal lines,

20. If Kulaba is a Sumerian place name (which is not certain), it could mean “bolt toward the sea” (i.e., the marshes), perhaps indicating a maritime connection (for which concrete proof is otherwise missing). 21. Eichmann 2013: 126. 22. Cf. Butterlin 2003: 37–​41. For Uruk type ceramics from Nineveh and Hacinebi see Butterlin 2003: 436–​438; for Habuba Kabira South see Sürenhagen 1978. 23. Nissen 2012: 44–​45. 24. Nissen  1977. 25. Alden 1988. 26. Nannucci 2012: 29.

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Figure  3.3.  Three Beveled Rim Bowls (BRBs) from Uruk. Archaeological Museum of Samawah (Iraq). Photo by Karen Radner.

curving cross-​hatched comb decoration, bands of incised cross-​hatching, rocker pattern, applied pellets and finger-​impressed ribs.”27 A number of stone vessels found at Uruk (but rarely attested at other Uruk-​period sites) seem to imitate pottery shapes. They should be considered “vessels of prestige” and were probably used in ritual practices.28 The diagnostic pottery artifact for identifying Uruk-​ type sites in archaeological surveys is the Bevel Rim Bowl (BRB; German Glockentopf), found in the tens of thousands and amounting to roughly 80 percent of the period’s preserved ceramics production (see figure 3.3). This coarse, mass-​produced item was not made on the potter’s wheel but created using a mold. It typically has a volume of about a liter (with some variability in size). There is general agreement that these vessels indicate a process of redistribution, with an advanced division of labor within Uruk society, but their precise purpose is still debated.29 There is a possible iconographic connection with the proto-​cuneiform sign GAR, whose later Sumerian reading is NINDA, “bread” (and also NIG2, “thing”).30 The archaic lexical List of Pots and Garments (see section

27. Nannucci 2012:  39; see also Butterlin 2016:  488–​491; Sürenhagen 1986–​1987; 1999: 13–​37. 28. Collins 2000: 51. 29. Cf. Potts 2009: 4. 30. Cf. Englund 1998: 180; a suggestion first made by Deimel 1933: 1096, sign 597.

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3.4.3) starts with a similar looking sign, NIa, perhaps a container for dairy fat.31 Hans-​Jörg Nissen, Peter Damerow, and Robert Englund have proposed that the BRBs were used for the daily food rations issued to the workforce.32 On the other hand, recent gas chromatography and mass spectrometry analysis of BRBs from the Middle Euphrates seem to corroborate their identification as bread molds,33 an interpretation that Dan Potts had previously suggested, in analogy with Egyptian parallels.34 The BRB is attested across an enormously large geographical horizon (in the east as far as Pakistan), and doubts have been raised that the bowls alone can be used to identify Uruk-​type sites. As Dan Potts has emphasized:  “It is time to rethink our approach to BRBs and to stop looking at them as non-​indigenous, intrusive elements in the many local ceramic traditions in which they appear.”35

3.2.2  Architecture Uruk’s architectural development was complex.36 Within the city, two very distinct areas were excavated for the period in question, at E’ana and at Kulaba. In the eastern mound of E’ana, several extremely large buildings were unearthed that have been attributed to the Uruk VI–​Uruk IV levels.37 Deep soundings have reached the Ubaid-​period (Uruk XVIII) level and have uncovered a typical three-​aisled central hall building (German Mittelsaalhaus), consisting of a central hall with two smaller flanking halls on either side. The outside walls of such central hall buildings are 31. Englund 1998:162. 32. Damerow and Englund 1987: 153–​154. 33. Sanjurjo-​Sanchez et al. 2018. Cf. Sanjurjo-​Sanchez et al. 2016. 34. Potts 2009: 4, explicitly referring to Schmidt 1982. 35. Potts 2009: 12. 36. For the full documentation of the city, from its inception to the end of the Early Dynastic period, see Eichmann 2007; also Butterlin 2003: 41–​48, 296–​307. 37. Now designated as “Bauschicht 22–​15”: Eichmann 1989: Beilage 106, table 4.

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typically structured with niches and projections, features that are common in sacred or ceremonial buildings in later periods. The niches of such buildings, as well as the walls of the terraces on which they were erected, were decorated with pottery cones, whose painted tops form a mosaic, an Uruk-​period architectural feature attested at many sites all over the ancient Near East and even in Egypt38 that was in use until the Early Dynastic period.39 This type of decoration has been connected to the imitation of monumental reed architecture, as it has also been unearthed in the Uruk soundings. The gigantic mudīf structures of the Ma’dan people in the Iraqi marshes (typically 21 m in length, 7 m in width, and 15 m in height) are often cited as modern comparisons.40 During the Uruk VI–​IV levels, E’ana was surrounded by a wall, and several buildings with quite diverse ground plans were unearthed, which the excavators originally designated as “temples.” Modern scholars prefer to use this term more cautiously. As Nissen has speculated, such large buildings may have served as “ ‘assembly halls’ without excluding their cultic function.”41 Contemporary seals and sealings may depict the front of such buildings.42 The structures were built with mud brick, with two exceptions: the Uruk VI–​level Stone Cone Building, whose walls were constructed entirely from a cement-​like, man-​made material,43 and the Uruk V level Limestone Building, which contained a podium of ca.

38. Although painted pottery cones have only been excavated in their architectural context in Uruk, specimens have also been found in Tell Uqair, Samsat, Hassek Höyük, Hacinebi, Habuba Kabira, Tell Brak, Tell Halaf, and even Egypt: van Ess 2011: 185–​186; Di Ludovico 2018. 39. Van Ess 2011: 185–​186; 2013a. 40. Broadbent 2008: 19. 41. Nissen 2001: 155. 42. Boehmer 1999: 24–​27. The sealing W 12057, with numerous duplicates and dated to Uruk V, shows a (female?) person with a knee-​length skirt to the right of the temple, and to its left a “ruler-​type” male person. When the seal is rolled out, it depicts an encounter between the two persons: Boehmer 1999: 25 fig. 20; Feller 2013: 165 fig. 24.8. 43. Designated as phase GS 20: Eichmann 2007: 364–​386.

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2 × 2 m.44 The relevant building materials—​limestone, gypsum and sandstone—​were all available at a site only 40 km west of Uruk.45 On the other hand, the roof beams of the central halls consist of pine wood, which could only be sourced from the mountain ranges surrounding northern Mesopotamia, a considerable distance away.46 One structure has a markedly different layout: Building E of the Uruk IVc level has a square ground plan, with a central courtyard surrounded by four halls that contained two fireplaces each.47 Inside the Stone Cone Building was a water basin, and the floors were waterproofed with bitumen, which cannot have been sourced locally, providing further evidence for trade.48 This building was ritually demolished during the Uruk IVb phase. The general assumption is that its contents, including fragments of a life-​sized statue of a man (interpreted as the “ruler” of Uruk; see section 3.5.3),49 were buried in the Riemchen Building (named for its distinctive 16 × 16 cm brick shape, called Riemchen by the German excavators), which partially overlaps with the northern part of the Stone Cone Building. The Riemchen Building functioned, perhaps, as a kind of memorial; it was partially looted in antiquity. The Uruk IVb phase is rather well documented, with two architectural ensembles in the southeast and the northwest, but there is no obvious single focal point.50 The southeast ensemble consists of the Pillar

44. Eichmann 2013: 121. 45. Boehmer 1984. 46. Engel and Kürschner 1993. 47. Eichmann 2007: 318–​326; van Ess 2016: 464. 48. Schwartz et al. 1999. The Uruk-​period movement of goods, such as bitumen, pottery, and sealed containers, is discussed in Minc and Emberling 2016; see also Alden and Minc 2017; Emberling and Minc 2016; Minc 2016; Khalidi et al. 2016; Wright 2016. 49. Wrede 1995. A comparable case is the famous “Ruler in the Pot,” a sculpture of the finest quality that was interred at an unknown point of time: Lenzen et al. 1960: 37–​40, pl.  17–​19. 50. For example, Nissen 2012: 53–​54.

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Hall, Building A, and other structures, including a courtyard with the “Loftus Façade”; the northwest ensemble comprised Buildings B, C, and K. The size of these buildings was considerable. For example, Building C was over 50 m long and 20 m wide and could, according to Nissen’s estimate,51 seat three hundred persons. If the walls were 5 m high, as has recently been argued, one million adobe bricks were needed for its construction.52 These buildings probably combined political and administrative functions with religious practices.53 Some of these buildings remained in use in the Uruk IVa phase, albeit with some alterations. An interesting architectural feature is the Great Court. This almost square, sunken courtyard measured about 2,000 sq m and was surrounded by two tiers of benches, covered in cone mosaic, and equipped with a water distribution device fed by a small aqueduct.54 The Great Court functioned as an inner urban garden and can be reconstructed according to the fragments of the Uruk Garden Stele.55 In the subsequent transitional Uruk III phase (also called the Jemdet Nasr period; cf. section 3.1), all earlier structures in E’ana were removed. Several small buildings were erected instead, including some “baths.” The remains of two earlier terraces were identified underneath the stepped tower (ziqqurat), constructed about a millennium later in the twenty-​ first century bc under Urnamma of Ur. These terraces were later joined into a single structure and formed the core of the younger High Terrace, and eventually the stepped tower.56 The labyrinthine Rammed Earth Building, situated west of the High Terrace and the largest building in the E’ana precinct, with a surface of ca. 10,000 sq m, was erected only in

51. Nissen 2001:155. 52. Eichmann 2013: 120. 53. Selz 2013a. 54. Eichmann 2007: 327–​339; 2013: 122 with fig. 16.6; van Ess 2016: 466. 55. Brandes 1965. Later Mesopotamian gardens are often connected with aspects of the Mother Goddess(es): Selz 2010. 56. Van Ess 2016: 468.

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the Early Dynastic period (ED IIIb); all earlier buildings were removed, and this may reflect political changes during this time.57 The architectural layout of the western mound of Kulaba is quite different from that of the E’ana precinct. In sharp contrast with E’ana, not a single proto-​cuneiform tablet has been excavated here.58 A small sounding undertaken in Kulaba unearthed the remains of a typical central hall building of the Late Ubaid period. Later on, a sequence of terraces with several alterations shaped the area. The enormous High Terrace still reaches a height of 12 m; according to modern estimates, fifteen hundred workmen with a workday of ten hours would have needed five years to build this massive construction.59 On top of it stands the White Temple (also called Building B or Temple B), with a ground plan of 17.5 × 22 m and walls still reaching a height of more than 3 m, radiocarbon dated to ca. 3450 bc. The White Temple is obviously a sanctuary, but which god or gods were worshipped there remains unknown. Recent analyses of wood samples from this building and its surroundings attest that not only pinewood (which is also attested in E’ana) but also cedar wood from faraway Lebanon (cedrus libani) was used as building timber.60 The temple was later deliberately and carefully bricked up with mud bricks.61 As the High Terrace was raised (Z 14 and Z 15), the Stone Building was buried successively within the structure; the significance of this underground construction remains unclear.62 In Tell Qannas and its nearby dependent site Habuba Kabira South on the Syrian Middle Euphrates, architectural remains related to the Uruk evidence have been excavated together with extensive additional Uruk-​type materials. The houses belong to the tripartite central hall type. At Tell Qannas are a number of monumental buildings erected 57. Eichmann 2007: 188–​204; 2013: 126–​127; van Ess 2016: 468; further Okada 1981. 58. For the gypsum tablets with sealings excavated there see Boehmer 1999: 87–​88. 59. Nissen 1983: 104. 60. Van Ess and Neef 2013: 59. 61. Van Ess 2016: 472–​476. 62. Van Ess 2016: 473–​474.

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on artificial terraces, including the East Temple and the later North Temple, whose central hall measures 16 × 6 m. Similar buildings on terraces have been found in Jebel Aruda and Hacinebi Tepe. Arslantepe (near Urfa in Turkey) also has monumental Late Uruk building remains, as do nearby Hassek Höyük; the sites Sheikh Hassan, Tell Brak, and Hamoukar in Syria; and Susa and Chogha Mish in Iran. In these places, early local building structures were replaced with Uruk-​related architectural features sometime in the Middle Uruk period (see section 3.3; with references).

3.2.3  Sculpture Uruk-​period sculpture, including cylinder seals, depicts different modes of subsistence, including husbandry, agriculture, and horticulture. The depictions of animals in particular are extremely carefully executed. Humans are attested in various roles, including as slaves and prisoners. The figure conventionally identified as Uruk’s ruler (see section 3.5.3) is depicted as a priest, shepherd, warrior, and hunter (on the “Lion Hunt” Stele; see figure 3.4). All these artifacts are key sources for any historical reconstruction of Uruk-​period society. The largest attested group of sculpted artifacts is cylinder seals, which depict a sequence of events within a narrative.63 This representational mode was also utilized for the design of the famous Uruk Vase (see figure 3.5), whose concise images provide insight into the contemporary worldview (see section 3.5.1). Several other carved stone vessels, typically made of limestone or steatite, were found in Uruk, some with animal friezes. Together with vessels inlaid with polychrome materials, they have been described as “vessels of prestige,”64 and they almost certainly had a ritual purpose. The “Alabaster Mold,” an 11 × 38 cm trough, depicts rams and ewes proceeding toward a sheepfold that some lambs are also attempting to leave. The trough also depicts several reed bundle standards, which

63. Selz 2014b. 64. Collins 2000: 51.

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Figure 3.4.  Lion Hunt Stele, from Uruk. Iraq Museum, Baghdad. Photo by Karen Radner.

emblematically refer to the goddess Inana. It may well have been used in a ceremonial animal feeding as part of an Inana-​related ritual. The “Lady of Warka,” a sculpture of a female head, was certainly part of a composite image that probably depicted the goddess (see section 3.5.1).

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Figure 3.5.  Uruk Vase, from Uruk. Iraq Museum, Baghdad. Photo by Karen Radner, drawing by F.A.M. Wiggermann, reproduced with kind permission from Radner and Robson 2011: 664 fig. 31.1.

In the Middle and Late Uruk periods, cylinder seals began to replace the much older stamp seals.65 At the same time, a technique of using the potter’s wheel to drill into stone was invented, providing new possibilities for seal design.66 The question of whether the cylinder seal was invented in the Susiana in southwestern Iran or in southern Mesopotamia is still

65. Note that Pittman 2001: 418 has observed that stamp “seals of the Late Ubaid through Early Uruk belong to a single tradition.” 66. Nissen 1977: 16–​18.

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disputed.67 This is partly because most cylinder seals from Uruk were found as part of a hoard (Sammelfund), and the dating of individual pieces is therefore a matter of debate.68 Strikingly, so far there is no overlap at all between the extant cylinder seals and the ones used to create the clay sealings excavated at Uruk. In addition, the attested iconography is very different between the two groups. Uruk-​period seals have a range of functions. They were, above all, used as a sign of authority, a means of control, and a method of communication. They were pressed into the wet clay that was used to seal storage rooms69 to prevent improper access. Similarly, seals were employed to seal containers. This was especially useful for containers that were transported, as the sealing was eventually broken by the receiver of the goods, whereas the seal remained in the possession of the sender, creating a safety mechanism. It may be due to the distances involved in such transactions that there has been no overlap between the cylinder seals and the preserved sealings that have so far been uncovered. Eventually they were also used on documents, usually before any signs were incised. When the sealed tablets were drawn up is an open question; they may have functioned as a kind of receipt that was returned to the sender of the items documented on the tablet in order to confirm that the transaction was completed.70

67. Boehmer 1999:  120–​122 and Collins 2000:  52 are among those who have argued, against mainstream opinion, that the cylinder seal was invented in the Susiana rather than in southern Mesopotamia. See also sections 3.4.1 and 3.4.3. 68. Collins 2000: 52; Nissen 2012: 48. 69. Rigillo 1991; Collon 1988: 13. 70. Note, however, Matthews’s comments in 1993: 26: “Around the turn of the fourth to third millennia B.C., there appears to be a clear evolution in sealing practice from sealing tablets to sealing store-​rooms and commodities”; this may point to “a substantial change in the function of sealing; much similar to the reappearance of sealed tablets in Ur III; when sealings were used for guaranteeing and witnessing.” D’Anna and Laurito 2007 discussed the function of Uruk-​period clay sealings (dubbed “cretulae” by the authors) with reference to findings from Arslantepe.

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Sealings on containers, doors, and tablets give rise to the question of personal accountability. Do they stand for an institution or for an individual person holding a specific office?71 This question is of key importance for any analysis of the emergent state, as it addresses, above all, the question of who had the rights of disposal; currently no definite answer is possible.72 On balance, it seems likely that at Uruk seals were used predominantly in institutional contexts, with any potential personal prestige deriving from institutional functions. Some cylinder seals, as well as other artifacts, depict a range of “standards,”73 which could represent the various institutions to which these objects relate. There are remarkable correspondences between style, technique, and function of the seals, which may mirror social hierarchies and responsibilities, although the hypothesis that a seal’s imagery and design somehow relate to the institution or individual holding it cannot be tested.74 In Uruk, local seal production began, as far as we know, in the early Late Uruk period at the latest,75 with a variety of stylistic and iconographic innovations. Uruk-​period seals can be divided into two major groups according to their design: “a group of very individualistic seals, well-​cut with the use of engravers, and another group with designs consisting of simple patterns or combinations thereof.”76 The subjects depicted on the “individualistic seals” are very diverse. We typically find seemingly heraldic representations of animals and mythical beasts; scenes with processions or prisoners; and scenes of animal husbandry,

71. Nissen et al. 2004: 66–​70; Englund 2009: 10; Dittmann 2012. 72. Selz 1999–​2000 has argued that institutional and communal rights predate the rights of individuals, which he sees as intertwined with the evolving legal systems. 73. Van Dijk 2015. 74. As proposed by Dittmann 1986. 75. Boehmer 1999: 122; but cf. Potts 1994: 53–​80, Collins 2000: 52–​53. 76. Nissen 1977: 19.

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cereal production, irrigation, and fishing.77 Seals depicting griffons, lions, intertwined snakes, and the “Lord of snakes” seem to be connected to traditions from Susa, with a specific group of seals even attributed to an assumed Elamite master working in the Uruk area.78 The contemporary “Jemdet Nasr” seals are widely distributed in Uruk and very different from the Uruk-​type seals in respect to material, size, and fabrication. Most strikingly, they have a completely different iconographic repertoire and typically depict women or scenes that may represent female domains, including spinning, weaving, and pottery making. While these marked differences seem to indicate different economic spheres, it is unclear whether they also point to separate societal structures.79

3.3.  The spread of the Uruk culture As the archaeological remains have demonstrated, in the fourth millennium bc a set of cultural techniques spread from the Uruk heartland in the alluvial plain and the delta region formed by the twin rivers Euphrates and Tigris in southern Iraq to eastern Iran (and possibly beyond),80 to Anatolia, and to the eastern shores of the Mediterranean as far as Egypt. In recent decades, this vast interregional network has attracted much interest from archaeologists and historians.81 The Uruk phenomenon was likely the result of a range of factors. It has been linked to a rapid growth in population, and this increase may itself have been prompted by several factors, including the invention

77. Cf. Charvát 2005: 146–​166. This work offers many, sometimes rather speculative, insights into the imagery of “pristine statehood.” 78. Boehmer 1999: 123. 79. Cf. the discussion in Collon 1988: 15–​16; also Dittmann 1986; Collins 2000: 53; Bernbeck and Pollock 2002: 187–​188. 80. The map in Liverani 2006: 88 fig. 3 provides a good overview of the geomorphological situation. 81. See Wright 2013; 2016; Johnson 1973; Algaze 1993; Oates 1993; Oates et al. 2007; Schwartz and Hollander 1999; Khalidi et al. 2016; also Selz 2013a; 2014a.

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of new technologies (affecting agriculture and animal husbandry) and new administrative procedures, as well as complex forms of governance (linked to urbanization and the emergence of the state). Only in recent decades have researchers started to seriously consider another important factor:  the change in the paleoenvironment, especially in the Gulf water table and in climate.82 For Mesopotamia and the Levant at least two phases of aridification are attested for the second half of the fourth millennium.83 Kennett and Kennett have described the situation:  “The economic, social, and political complexity evident at the end of the ‘Ubaid Period culminated during the Uruk Period (6300-​5000 BP) with the development of the first urban-​based states at ∼5000 BP.84 . . . A significant population expansion occurred in southern Mesopotamia during the ‘Ubaid to Uruk Period transition (∼6300 BP), but some areas (northern alluvium) saw population decline as settlements became more concentrated in the southern alluvium.”85 In the Late Uruk period, the number of settlements in the Uruk hinterlands increased rapidly, while in Iran,86 the settled area in the Susiana and the Deh Luran plain decreased.87 It is necessary to keep in mind, however, that the archaeological record does not directly reflect population figures. Rather, it shows the extent of sedentarism and largely excludes evidence for the semi-​sedentary population inhabiting the

82. Nützel 1975; cf. Pollock 1999:  28–​44; Kennett and Kennett 2006; also Jones et al. 2013. 83. Eitel 2013: 353; the effects of the Piora Oscillation, the period of abrupt global cooling after ca. 32000 bc, in the Near East remain unclear. 84. Kennett and Kennett 2006: 83–​84, with references to Johnson 1973; Wright and Johnson 1975; Adams 1981; Rothman 2004. 85. Kennett and Kennett 2006: 84, with reference to Adams 1981: 60–​61. Note also this statement:  “We also suggest that population expansion during the Uruk Period was no coincidence. Demographic growth was favored by improving irrigation technology coupled with high water tables and the expanding floodplains linked to the deceleration of sea-​level rise” (Kennett and Kennett 2006: 89). 86. Adams and Nissen 1972, and cf. the figures of Pollock 1999: 71, table 3.1, reproduced in Collins 2000: 20. 87. Collins 2000: 21; see also Dittmann 2002; 2012; 2013: 35–​49.

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region.88 Nevertheless, it seems likely that the increase in settlements in the Uruk hinterlands is linked to the expansion of arid zones, which increased population pressure in those regions of southern Mesopotamia that could be used agriculturally. The following sections first survey the geographical horizon of the Uruk phenomenon and then discuss interregional trade and warfare, before closing with a discussion of the evidence provided by the City Seals.

3.3.1  The geographical horizon of the Uruk phenomenon The geographical horizon in which the Uruk phenomenon is attested has been repeatedly scrutinized, especially since the publication of Guillermo Algaze’s seminal 1993 work The Uruk World System.89 Algaze’s regional differentiation offers a good starting point for our survey. First he discussed the Uruk sites in the Susiana plain and Khuzestan in southwestern Iran, charting the comparable cultural features that connected them to the Mesopotamian alluvium:  pottery, accounting practices, architecture, and mythology (as attested in pictorial evidence).90 Next he focused on the Syro-​Mesopotamian plains and the surrounding highlands. He then compared the shared features of the Mesopotamian alluvium and the Susiana to the (then) best-​documented settlement cluster of Tell Qannas, Habuba Kabira, and Jebel Aruda.91 He interpreted many of the settlements with Uruk materials, especially in the Syro-​Mesopotamian plains, as “enclaves” that were surrounded by indigenous communities.92 Algaze differentiated between enclaves and

88. See Nissen 1980; Johnson 1988–​1989; Collins 200:  20–​21. The situation may have been highly complex, possibly similar to the situation of the Amorites more than a millennium later; cf. Michalowski 2011: 87. 89. See the concise overview in Butterlin 2003: 97–​139; further Frangipane 2001b. 90. Algaze 1993: 15 fig. 3. 91. Algaze 1993: 39 fig. 17. 92. Their relationship is discussed in Algaze 1993: 96–​97.

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cluster sites with their own settlement hierarchies and, especially on the periphery, between outposts and much smaller stations. He described the situation as follows: “Mesopotamian penetration involved the taking over of the indigenous settlements at the apex of the hierarchy. However, in areas where no such occupation had to be reckoned with, Uruk penetration became a process of urban implementation.”93 When “rethinking” Algaze’s work, Gil Stein provided a map of the relevant Uruk-​period sites,94 distinguishing between (a)  Uruk sites or colonies,95 (b)  Uruk enclaves in local settlements, and (c)  local Late Chalcolithic settlements. Pascal Butterlin further refined these categories,96 distinguishing between (1) the Uruk tradition with (a) Southern Uruk and (b) colonial Uruk and (2) a mixed situation (local and Uruk) with (c) hybridization and (d) possible enclaves. Butterlin’s map97 shows Southern Uruk sites as far north as Tell Rubeideh in the Middle Diyala valley98 and Khafajah in the Hamrin/​Diyala region near modern Baghdad, and as far east as Farukhabad in the Deh Luran plain in Iran, including Susa and Chogha Mish in Khuzestan. Southern Mesopotamia is the heartland of the Uruk culture (in later periods referred to as “Sumer”), containing the following sites and starting from the northwest: Jemdet Nasr, Tell Uqair, Abu Salabikh, Nippur, Tello, Uruk itself, Larsa, Ur, and Eridu. “Colonial Uruk sites” are attested in the west along the Euphrates, from Qraya and Hamadi upstream to the cluster site Jebel Aruda/​Tell Qannas/​Habuba Kabira. Numerous sites are considered “hybrid sites,” from Arslantepe and Tepecik in the northwest99 to Tepe Ghabristan in the Qazvin plain in the north, and to Tell-e Malyan, Tell-​i Iblis, and Tepe Yahya in the

93. Algaze 1993: 97. 94. Stein 1999a: 95, also Rothman 2001: 6 fig. 1.1. 95. Cf. Collins 2000: 31. 96. Butterlin 2016: 492, fig. 3. For a refining of Frangipane 1996 see the maps in Butterlin 2003: 123–​124 figs. 23 and 24. 97. Butterlin 2016: 492. 98. Wright 2001: 126–​127. 99. Cf. Tirpan 2013.

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east. Possible “hybrid sites” are Hacinebi Tepe100 in the northwest and Godin Tepe in central Iran. Recent excavations and surveys point to the existence of many more sites with Uruk-​type material in eastern Iran. Often excluded from discussions of the Uruk phenomenon are sites in the Gulf regions, especially as their formerly close ties with Mesopotamia broke down around 4000–​3800 bc, followed by a “dark millennium.”101 Relations were slowly resumed at the turn of the fourth to the third millennia bc. Important here are the links to Bahrain102 (Sumerian Dilmun, also attested in the proto-​cuneiform texts103) and the regions of the Hafit culture in Oman and the United Arab Emirates (Sumerian Makkan).104 At a later point, cultural connections can be traced between the Uruk III/​Jemdet Nasr period and the Umm an-​Nar culture in Oman and the United Arab Emirates.105 Finally, recent excavations and surveys in eastern Iran and Pakistan have brought to light at least one distinctive Uruk-​type material: BRBs. According to Dan Potts, these “have been picked up on or excavated at over one hundred sites in some nineteen different subregions of Iran and Pakistan.”106 The methodological problems in identifying these sites as Uruk settlements have already been discussed (see section 3.2.1)

3.3.2  Trade Lacking natural resources other than water, clay, reed, bitumen (to a limited extent), and some types of timber and stone, southern Mesopotamia relied on imports of materials such as stone (including diorite), metal 100. Stein 1999b. 101. Laursen and Steinkeller 2017: 9. 102. Potts 1983; 1990; Rice 1994:  1–​16, 88–​89, 145–​149; Laurens and Steinkeller 2017: 10–​11. 103. Englund 1983a; 1983b. 104. Laursen and Steinkeller 2017: 11–​14. 105. Frifelt 1975, 1995; Laursen and Steinkeller 2017: 17–​18. 106. Potts 2009: 5 with table I.

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(gold, silver, copper, tin), and timber (including pine and cedar) from a range of distant places, and the Uruk period was no exception. Maps presented by Michael Roaf, Gil Stein, and Daniel Potts provide good overviews of these items’ alleged sources,107 although it is necessary to stress that the specific origin sites for materials excavated in Uruk-​period contexts remain largely unstudied and unknown, and they may vary considerably from those established for later periods.108 Therefore, semiprecious stones such as lapis lazuli, turquoise, carnelian, and gold may have been sourced from Iran or Egypt,109 while silver may have come from eastern Anatolia or southwestern Iran. It is generally accepted that the lack of essential resources in southern Mesopotamia (see figure 3.6) contributed to the establishment of the Uruk network, and permanent posts were required along the most important trading routes in order to maintain it.110 The movement of people along these routes (including perhaps itinerant artisans111) contributed to the spread of technologies and cultural practices, including forms of agriculture, horticulture, and animal husbandry as followed in the Uruk heartland. Such settlements could have existed in the vicinity of, and alongside, settlements inhabited by local, “indigenous” communities, whose societal complexity should not be underestimated.112 Uruk-​period “colonies” are particularly well attested in what is today northern Syria, at Habuba Kabira South, Jebel Aruda, Tell Brak, Tell Hammam et-​Turkman, and

107. Roaf 1990: 25; Stein 1999a: 84 fig. 6.1; Potts 2013: 258 fig. 43.5. 108. Moorey 1999 and Potts 2013: 255–​261 discuss possible sources for these materials. Cf. also Algaze 1993; Stein 1999a: 82–​101 and Nissen 1999: 42–​43. For Syria see Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 190–​203. For Iran see Petrie 2013b: 1–​24. 109. Moorey 1999: 219–​222. 110. For the most important trading routes see the maps in Butterlin 2003:  100 fig. 16 and Algaze 1993: 41 fig. 20, 47 fig. 21. 111. Cf. Alden and Minc 2017 for a study of the role of itinerant potters in early Iran. 112. Rothman and Peasnall 1999; Frangipane 2018.

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Figure  3.6.  Resources of the ancient Near East. Reproduced from Stein 1999a: 84 fig. 6.1.

Tell Hamoukar.113 The archaeological evaluation of the hinterland of such Uruk-​period sites, and research focusing on the interaction between sedentary and non-​sedentary communities, will further improve our understanding of the role of these colonies within the wider region.114

113. Cf. Reichel 2009:  83; see also Algaze 1993:  96–​ 97; Potts 1999:  52–​ 69; Stein 1999a:  66–​ 73; Akkermans and Schwartz 2003:  190–​ 203. Nissen 1999:  43 has remained skeptical and, in opposition to most other scholars, stated:  “Handelsstationen oder Kolonien sollten inmitten einer lokalen Umgebung als Fremdkörper zu erkennen sein, was offensichtlich nicht den Beobachtungen entspricht”; cf. also Dittmann 2002. For Tell Hamoukar cf. Ur 2010: 99–​103, who has stated that “the southern Uruk settlement covered the same 15.31 ha area of the high mound as the indigenous settlement” (p. 103). 114. The important role of the hinterlands for any reconstruction of the early history was established by the pioneering works Adams and Nissen 1972 and Adams 1981; see also Nissen 1980; Schwartz and Falconer 1994; Nissen 1995;

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The geographical distribution of Uruk-​period sites shows that they were largely situated along ancient river valleys:115 along the Euphrates and its tributary Khabur and the Tigris and its tributaries, as well as along the Upper and Lower Zab Rivers, the Diyala, (in antiquity) the Kharkhe River (the latter being the main routes into Iran),116 and finally the Karun, which today empties into the Shatt al-​Arab (as do the Euphrates and Tigris) but in the past flowed into the Persian Gulf. Boats and rafts must have served as a major means of transport, especially for the bulk cargo for which donkey caravans were less well-​suited. The term “cluster site”117 is sometimes used to designate a central site with a number of surrounding dependent settlements.118 Such sites certainly played a major role within the trade network, and their economies are connected to their function as a hub for interregional trade. Tepe Gawra, situated on the Tigris route, provides an excellent illustration of this situation: Whatever the site lacked could be obtained through exchange routes that passed in close proximity to it. The Tigris River route along the piedmont ran past Gawra from sources of obsidians and metal ores to its north and a variety of products from its south. From eastward goods could pass through one of the few historically documented, natural passes through the Jebel Maqlub to the plateau of Iran.119 It is most probably through this pass that Gawrans served as transporters of lapis lazuli and other of Abdi 2003; Michalowski 2011: 88–​93. The collected papers in Szuchman 2009 give a good idea of the issues involved. 115. See the map in Butterlin 2003: 100 (after Algaze 1993). 116. See the map in Renette 2013: 49. 117. Cf. Algaze 1993:  59–​60, who used the term for several sites on the Upper Euphrates (Tabqa cluster, Birecik-​Jerablus cluster) and in the Euphrates-​Balikh region (Samsat cluster). 118. As there is no universally accepted terminology, there is some overlap in the literature, with sites described as “colonies” and “hybrid sites.” Cf. Frangipane 2009: 32 on Sheikh Hassan in the Middle Uruk period and on Habuba Kabira and Jebel Aruda in the Late Uruk period. 119. For Godin Tepe see Rothman 2013; Gopnik et al. 2016.

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the exotic goods from the Zagros highlands in the early fourth millennium bc.120 However, the mechanisms underpinning Uruk-​period long-​distance trade remain largely obscure,121 especially with respect to the question of whether this exchange was symmetrical, asymmetrical, or primarily based on the exploitation of military power. In the Uruk period, “colonization” may not have been the only means to obtain raw materials.122 The next section addresses trade in the context of conflicts and war.

3.3.3  War Uruk-​period trade must at least occasionally have created conflicts with the local communities along the trade routes. It is almost inconceivable that military means would not have been needed to secure Uruk’s commerce. With valuable shipments being regularly transported across long distances, whether by water or over land, protection against theft was required, and certain Uruk-​period sites may well be linked to the need to safeguard trade routes, although the military aspects of the Uruk phenomenon are largely unknown.123 It is certainly true, as Adams stated, that “warfare, and its many indirect as well as direct consequences, is very hard for both site-​oriented and regionally oriented prehistoric archaeologists to identify.”124 In the case of the Uruk period, the developmental role that may have been played by warfare has been largely ignored. Recent evidence from Tell Hamoukar in northeastern Syria seems to indicate, however, that warfare may play a significant role in the

120. Rothman and Peasnall 1999: 106. 121. Selz 2013a; cf. Steinkeller 1993; Potts 1999: 57; Collins 2000: 57. 122. See Schwartz 1989, commenting on Algaze 1989. 123. Collins 2000: 60–​61. 124. Adams 2005: 2. An exception is the reconstructed conflict between Susa and Chogha Mish, which eventually seems to have led to a division of the Susiana region between these two cities: Johnson 1987.

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evaluation of the Uruk phenomenon. According to the excavators, the site was destroyed and then occupied by intruders from the south around 3500 bc. The thousands of sling bullets (clay ovoids weighing roughly 30 grams) found testify to the scale of the battle that took place there.125 This fighting also affected Tell Hamoukar’s Uruk colony.126 Clemens Reichel has proposed that the attacks were initiated by an army from faraway Uruk.127 The Hamoukar evidence indicates that large-​scale, organized warfare took place in the mid-​fourth millennium bc and that Uruk may have been engaged in such warfare, at least occasionally. But whether this warfare was the result of commercial activities, “immediate outgrowths of particular southern subsistence crises,”128 or something else is impossible to determine. The fact that enclosing settlements with walls became increasingly common in northern Mesopotamia and Syria in the Late Uruk period and in the subsequent transitional phase (Uruk III/​Jemdet Nasr period) is probably directly linked to such conflicts, or to the potential for them to occur.129

3.3.4  The “City Seals” A characteristic type of sealing has been discovered in Uruk, Jemdet Nasr, Tell Uqair, Ur, Fara, Susa, and even Konar Sandal in the Kerman province of modern Iran.130 These sealings show the names of several southern Mesopotamian cities in what might be termed semi-​pictographic script, carved in varying combinations onto one seal. Attested are Ur,

125. Reichel 2009: 81–​82; 2011b: 4; see further the reports by Gibson 2001; 2002; 2003; Reichel 2004; 2005; 2006; 2007; 2008; 2011a; 2012; Ur 2002; 2010. 126. Reichel 2007: 64–​65. 127. Reichel 2007: 65; 2008: 80; 2009: 80, 83. 128. Adams 2005: 2. 129. Collins 2000: 61; Frangipane 2009. Note the depiction of parts of the Uruk city wall on the sealing W 24012,15, dated to Uruk IVa (Boehmer 1999:  127 fig. XXVI). 130. Matthews 2013.

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Keš, Larsa, Uruk, Nippur, Zabalam, Ku’ara/​Urum (?), Nergal/​Kutha (?), Eridu, Adab, and UB (?),131 as well as Edinnu, which is perhaps the region’s ancient name (corresponding to later “Sumer”).132 Not a single original seal is known, but the attested sealings range from the transitional Uruk III phase to the Early Dynastic I period, that is, from the turn of the fourth millennium well into the third millennium. Since Roger Matthews published his seminal study of these “City Seals,” they have received considerable attention.133 Piotr Steinkeller connected these sealings to a group of eighteen texts from Jemdet Nasr and one from nearby Tell Uqair (ancient Urum), which are similar in structure and content.134 Fourteen of these texts,135 as well as another allegedly from Tell Uqair, bear impressions of the same City Seal.136 An example is Bob Englund’s transcription of one of these tablets (see figure 3.7).137 Column 1 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

1N1; MA 4N1; {HAŠHUR} {2N1}; [ . . . ]; [MA] {ZATU 735b}138 1N1; {GA2a1 + GEŠTUc5} 1N1; UKKINb + DIN

131. Englund and Nissen 1993:  34 suggested identification with Jemdet Nasr; see now Bartash 2015. 132. Matthews 2013: 147. 133. For example, Michalowski 1993a; Selz 1998: 309–​312; 2013; 2014; Steinkeller 2002a: 257; 2002b. 134. Steinkeller 2002a: 252–​254, esp. 253 with n. 17. 135. Englund and Grégoire 1991: 161, 163, 166–​170, 172–​174, 176, 178, 180. 136. VAT 5296: Englund 1996: 15. 137. Ashmolean Museum 1926–​608: Englund and Grégoire 1991: 163, discussed in Selz 2014a: 263–​264. 138. Here, and in the rest of this chapter, ZATU followed by a number refers to a sign in the sign list of Green and Nissen 1987.

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Figure  3.7.  Clay tablet from Jemdet Nasr. Ashmolean Museum 1926-​608. Photo from CDLI (https://​cdli.ucla.edu/​P005230).

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Column 2 1. NIa + RU 2. 3N57 + MUŠ3a 3. UNUGa The text lists various quantities of figs, apples, or apricots; strings of figs;139 a fish product of some kind;140 and a vessel with a grape product. In keeping with Piotr Steinkeller’s persuasive reasoning, the subscript in the second column translates as “Jemdet Nasr. The Triple Inana (of ) Uruk.” In all likelihood these texts were drawn up and sealed in Jemdet Nasr itself, where receipt of the goods was acknowledged with the City Seal. It may well be that the “Triple Inana (of ) Uruk” is the final recipient and that the commodities were offerings to her;141 this presupposes the existence of a shrine in Jemdet Nasr dedicated to Inana. In any case, the party receiving the goods is the one using the City Seal. Given the findspot of this container sealing in Jemdat Nasr, this was most likely an institution based in this city that represented or involved (members of ) the cities featured on the seal itself. These texts therefore attest to the religious, political, and economic ties between Uruk and Jemdet Nasr.142 A  similar City Seal attested on a sealing from Konar Sandal near Jiroft may perhaps indicate a supraregional trade relationship with Iran.143

139. Cf. Steinkeller 2002a: 253 n. 16. 140. GA2 + “GEŠTUG” may designate a fish product and is possibly read addaku’a: Steinkeller 2002a: 253 n. 16. 141. Steinkeller 2002a: 252–​254; 2017: 27. 142. Matthews 2013: 147, table 1 and 2 for lists of extant cities’ sealings according to excavation site, date (Uruk III [ = Jemdet Nasr] to Early Dynastic I), use (tablet sealing or container sealings), and the attested city names. 143. Madjidzadeh and Pittman 2008: 99 fig. 32e.

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These sealings, dated to the end of the Uruk period and after, should be considered late evidence for the Uruk trade network postulated for the earlier periods. The fact that with just one minor change in the sequence, these cities correspond to the first seven cities attested in the proto-​cuneiform Geographical List (Uruk III level), strengthens this hypothesis,144 and the place names in the list may therefore have “a political or economic meaning . . . , reflecting a league of cities.”145 For reconstructing the Uruk network, the Geographical List and its conceptual successor, the standard List of Geographic Names (LGN) of the Early Dynastic period,146 are otherwise of limited value, although they emphasize the importance that the scribes of Uruk attributed to organizing geographical space.

3.4.  The invention of writing This section discusses forerunners of writing in the form of sealings and markers, then turns to Uruk-​period proto-​cuneiform writing. It reviews the “Sumerian question,” the debate surrounding the language that this recording system documented, and concludes with a survey of proto-​ Elamite writing.

3.4.1  Precursors to writing It is now generally accepted that the counting marks of the “token system,” which is attested throughout the ancient Near East and continued

144. Englund 1998:  92–​94. On the comparability of MS 3173, the largest pictographic tablet known so far, see now Civil 2010: 229. This tablet represents a tradition different from the hitherto known Uruk lists. 145. Englund 1998: 94. 146. Pettinato 1981: 217, 241, pl. 31–​32; also Frayne 1992 (with the important review of Englund 1995); further Krebernik 1998:  284–​298; Civil 2010:  196–​202. There is an LGN recension from Early Dynastic Ebla, some 50 km southwest of Aleppo, a region that is so far not connected to Uruk-​period sites; cf. Lecompte 2009 for a thorough review of the spatial organization of the lexical lists.

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to be used well into the historical period,147 are among the precursors of proto-​cuneiform writing.148 This idea is chiefly based on the notion that the form and shape of some tokens resemble the earliest proto-​cuneiform signs.149 It must be stressed that concrete links between such tokens and proto-​cuneiform signs are quite limited, and the vast geographical distribution of the token system makes it unlikely that the same shapes, especially very simple ones, always refer to the same items. Nevertheless, finds from Tell Brak in northeastern Syria and Tell Abada in the Hamrin region of Iraq clearly demonstrate the connection between the token system and the proto-​cuneiform tablets.150 Another precursor to proto-​cuneiform writing is the “numerical tablets,” which were frequently sealed (see section 3.2.3). Currently we are unable to understand these notations, but the extant sealings might eventually make some kind of contextualization possible.151 These sealings certainly refer to the institutions or individuals involved in the recorded transaction and might possibly also identify the commodities. A third precursor is tags, closely resembling those found at Abydos and other sites in Egypt.152 Like the tokens, such tags were used in Mesopotamia well into the historical period. Their most obvious purpose was to accompany the transfer of goods, especially as most specimens were pierced and therefore could be attached with some string to,

147. For example, MacGinnis et al. 2014 for an assemblage from a first millennium BC site. 148. For a brief survey see Woods 2010b; Nissen 2013. The best description of the administrative applications of the earliest writing system is still Nissen et  al. 1990; 1993. 149. Schmandt-​ Besserat 1992; 1996; with critiques by Englund 1993; 1998b; Michalowski 1993b; Damerow 1993. 150. Jasim and Oates 1986. 151. Sauer and Sürenhagen 2016; also Dittmann 2012: 69–​74. 152. Contrary to the Abydos tags, which Dreyer 1998 has linked to incipient phonetization, such features seem not to be present in the Uruk tags. W 9579,br (Ramadan 2015: 195 fig. 31.2) is dated paleographically to Uruk IVb and reads 5N1 UD MA2 MUŠ3, perhaps “5 (items to/​for) the boat (of ) Morning Inana.”

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say, a bag or a package. Of the eighteen Uruk-​period tags collected in the Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative (CDLI), several show simple drawings instead of proto-​cuneiform signs.153 We also need to consider the role of nontextual markers in the context of the origins of writing, specifically the potters’ marks incised on various vessels154 and the “divine standards/​emblems.” The latter were formative elements in the evolution of proto-​cuneiform writing: the sign MUŠ3 depicts the “ring-​post,” perhaps “a large, totem pole-​like object made of reeds, to whose top was attached a scarf or streamer made of textile,”155 which eventually became the logographic writing for the goddess Inana, while the sign NUN depicts another such standard that was later connected with the god Enki. A decisive step toward proto-​cuneiform is documented by the “clay bullae.” This imprecise (yet widely used) term refers to spherical, hollow, clay balls that contain a certain number of the aforementioned tokens, which were also impressed on the sealed outside surface of the balls. Similar impressions are found on the numerical tablets. The most obvious purpose of these clay balls is that they, like the tags, accompanied the transfer of goods. By breaking the ball and checking the contents, the recipient could ascertain that no manipulation had occurred in transfer. An alternative, but less likely, interpretation is that the balls acted as a type of receipt, sent back to the sender of the goods. Whatever their exact purpose, tags, bullae, and impressed numerical tablets are clearly related. In Uruk, sixteen such bullae were unearthed in levels underneath the Stone Cone Building in the E’ana precinct, thus predating the Uruk VI level (see section 3.2.2),156 while seventy-​five numerical texts and bullae were found in the Uruk V level. In northern Mesopotamia,

153. These are tags MW 0188/​3 and MW 0188/​36 and several other items labeled with MW numbers in CDLI, all from (anonymous) private collections. 154. Wagensonner 2009; Dittmann 2012. 155. Steinkeller 1998. Cf. Steinkeller 2017: 84 n. 230. 156. Van Ess 2016: 462.

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numerical tablets and bullae were excavated in Tell Brak (one specimen), Habuba Kabira South (five) and Jebel Aruda (thirteen), always in Late Uruk contexts;157 so far, no earlier specimens are known from northern Mesopotamia.158 This complex method of documenting administrative procedures is attested for more than one and a half millennia.159 The role played by Susa, in southwestern Iran, is an intriguing one in the history of early writing; 184 documents are known from this site, all dated to the Uruk V phase or earlier. The first cylinder sealings on clay bullae are attested in Susa by the Middle Uruk period, far earlier than in Uruk itself. Noting this, Boehmer argued that, assuming that the sealed bullae came to Uruk together with the goods they accompanied, some may have originated in Elam, as the iconography of the seals clearly follows Elamite traditions.160 Some of the seal motifs are also attested in Egypt during the Naqada period (perhaps transmitted by traveling seal cutters?), and this again points to the wide reach of the interregional network during the Uruk period.161

3.4.2  Proto-​cuneiform writing At the end of the Uruk period, namely in Uruk IV and the subsequent transitional Uruk III phase, the precursors of writing developed into a distinctive new recording system, today called proto-​cuneiform. The vast majority of the provenanced texts come from the E’ana precinct in

157. Numbers quoted here and later are used according to the CDLI database and are all attributed to the “(pre-​)Uruk V” (accessed October 2018). The geographical distribution of tags, bullae, and impressed numerical tablets is conveniently plotted by Collins 2000: 55 table 4. Cf. also the new evidence from central Iran: Hessari and Yousefi Zoshk 2013. 158. Quenet 2005. 159. Abusch 1981; MacGinnis et al. 2014. 160. Boehmer 1999: 120–​122; similarly Collins 2000: 52; see now also Pittman and Blackman 2016 and further Dittmann 2002; 2013. 161. Butterlin 2003: 156–​157 for a discussion of the relations with Egypt.

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Uruk.162 Larger numbers of comparable texts are known from Umma (425, including 22 lexical lists) and Jemdet Nasr (242, including 2 lexical lists). Originating in the Berlin-​based Archaic Text Corpus Project of Hans Jörg Nissen, Peter Damerow, and Robert Englund,163 the Los Angeles–​and Berlin-​based CDLI (https://​cdli.ucla.edu/​) has made the entire corpus available in an online database that presently contains close to seven thousand archaic texts and fragments, chiefly from Uruk.164 Around 85  percent of these texts deal with administrative matters, while roughly 15 percent are “lexical lists,” which served in the training of scribes.165 The distribution of all these tablets throughout the Uruk IV and Uruk III phases is quite uneven, a fact that is often ignored in discussions. A check of the CDLI database yields the following figures: 1,861 texts and fragments are attributed to Uruk IV, of which only 11 have been identified as lexical, and 4,882 texts are attributed to Uruk III, with 707 lexical texts. Adam Falkenstein achieved the first steps toward understanding the archaic Uruk texts in 1936. The interpretation of the administrative tablets was initially hampered by their complex notational system, until Peter Damerow and Robert Englund’s seminal study of 1987 shed light on this subject.166 They established that there were (at least) five different basic notational systems,167 related to the type of object recorded. Damerow, Englund, and Nissen contextualized these systems with an

162. The provenance of a larger number of texts is discussed in Green and Nissen 1987; 21–​51; internal paleographic criteria are discussed in Green and Nissen 1987: 53–​63, with a possible subdivision into Uruk III a–​c. 163. Cf. Nissen et al. 1990; 1993. 164. Englund 1998: 65 mentions some 5,820 archaic texts and fragments. 165. On the relationship between lexical lists and administrative records see Wagensonner 2012. 166. Damerow and Englund 1987; revised and elaborated in Englund 1998: 111–​127. 167. Sexagesimal system, bi-​sexagesimal system, ŠE system, GAN2system, and EN system.

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199

alleged evolution of the numerical concept.168 Drawing on ethnographic parallels, they posited that the intellectual achievement represented by the separation of the designation for a quantity from the counted object itself had not (yet) fully developed at this early stage of writing. Be this as it may,169 it is clear that apprentice scribes were able to deal with complicated mathematical problems, such as calculating the surface of irregularly shaped fields.170 Most recently, Robert Englund has evaluated and revised the state of decipherment and interpretation, especially of administrative texts,171 while studies by Niek Veldhuis, Miguel Civil, and Klaus Wagensonner have considerably improved our understanding of the lexical lists.172 The proto-​cuneiform texts document a momentous change in economic administration:  numerate professionals became the earliest scribes,173 eventually forming the core of the influential managerial elite. According to the administrative texts, separate offices managed the following economic spheres: labor organization, fishery, domesticated animals and their products, grain and grain products, and fields.174 Much later, late Early Dynastic administrative documents fulfilled three major functions: (a) recording inventories; (b) managing the collection and distribution of commodities, that is, listing incoming and outgoing items; and (c)  documenting assignments for future transactions. However, references to such transactions in the archaic Uruk texts are not easily identified. Niek Veldhuis has argued that these texts “do not record administrative events in a narrative fashion, but use the layout of the tablets (columns, obverse and reverse) to indicate the relationship

168. Englund 1988; Damerow et al. 1996: 275–​297; Damerow 1996b: 299–​370; also Englund 1998: 77–​78; 2001. 169. Cf. Robson 2008: 27–​53, esp. 52 and 76. 170. W 20044,20: Robson 2008: 309. 171. Englund 1998. 172. Veldhuis 2006; 2010; Civil 2010; Wagensonner 2010; 2012; 2016. 173. Cf. Robson 2008. 174. Englund 1998: 128–​213.

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between items, totals, and persons involved,” emphasizing that this “is more like a modern spreadsheet than a modern writing system.”175 However, the subscripts of a number of these texts mention not only the person or institution responsible, but also a set of signs that might refer to the transaction itself:  the frequently attested GU7 (= ZATU 235)176 may mean “consumption” or “ration,” while the use of the signs BA177 and GI178 can perhaps be linked to the much later transaction formulas featuring the Sumerian verbs ba and gi4, designating distribution or return, respectively.179 However, the subscripts of several texts combine GI.GI with BA and even with BA and GU7.180 Moreover, there is not a single secure attestation of the use of the sign for “reed” (GI) for the homonymous Sumerian verb /​gi/​“to return,” even in those cases where the sign cannot stand for “reed.” Therefore, the interpretation of these transactional terms remains largely speculative and certainly cannot be used as proof that the texts are written in Sumerian, as Englund has already emphasized.181 The lexical lists, especially the thematic lists, are an impressive example of what came to be a typical Mesopotamian text genre, the scholarly list (Listenwissenschaft). It is remarkable that while these lists contain many signs (and words?) not attested in the contemporary administrative material, they are clearly focused on the contemporaneous environment and its economic significance. Niek Veldhuis stated: “The archaic lists were used as instruments to teach the newly invented accounting system, yet their contents suggest that they are also something else,” pointing out that “these lists contain nothing which favor a cosmological or

175. Veldhuis 2012: 4. 176. W 20274, 36; W20274, 32; W20274,23**. 177. W 20676,5**; W 20676,7; W 21300,2; W 21360,2. 178. W 20246,2. 179. Vaiman 1974: 19. 180. As in W 20511,11. 181. Englund 1998:  70–​71; for the supposed BA and GI “offices” see Johnson 2015: 187–​190. See section 3.4.4 on the “Sumerian question.”

201

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201

theological interpretation, and that essential elements of any cosmology are missing, such as gods, stars, rivers, mountains, and wild animals.”182 Table 3.1 provides a rough overview of the semantic domains covered by these Uruk lists, their popularity according to the individual copies presently available, and whether they were adapted for the lexical tradition of the Early Dynastic period.183 This table obviously generalizes and simplifies; nevertheless, some conclusions are possible. First, the prominence of the lists ArLu A and the much shorter ArOfficials is striking. They are clear, if imperfectly understood, testimonials to the importance that society attributed to social hierarchization and to its sensitivity to different statuses. Why the popular List of Pots and Garments combines the two categories is unclear to us,184 but both EDLu A and ArOfficials also start with signs depicting various types of vessels.185 The Geographical List, the List of Cities, the Metal List, and perhaps also the Wood List may owe their relative popularity to the importance of trade connections, whereas the Food, Animal, and Fish Lists seem to relate directly to the modes of subsistence of the Uruk people. The absence of a list of deities is remarkable, unless a fragmentary tablet can be connected to this type of list.186 In contrast to the very specific subject matter in the thematic Uruk lists,

182. Veldhuis 2006: 186. 183. On their continuation into the Old Babylonian tradition see Veldhuis 2010. 184. It is possible that the garments (certainly a major export item already by the Uruk period) were transported in “jars,” as Charvát 2005: 157 has argued; this hypothesis was first mentioned by Collon 1988: 16 when discussing the iconography of Jemdet Nasr–​style cylinder seals. This may be the rationale behind combining terms for pots and garments into one lexical list. 185. Specifically, SILA3a and UKKINb; cf. Johnson 2015:  198–​199, who may be correct in explaining the variant signs ŠITAa1 and UKKINa (differentiated by additional strokes) as designating “the type and amount of meat or fish that is appropriate to someone who receives a SILA3a vessel of beer or dairy fats (on the occasion of a festival),” and likewise the UKKINb sign as “a portion of meat or fish that is appropriate to someone who normally drinks from the UKKINb vessel.” 186. W20713,1, according to CDLI an unidentified lexical text.

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Table 3.1.  Subject matter in lexical lists of the Uruk period and in the Early Dynastic period Subject matter

Uruk period lists

Number Early Dynastic lists of copies

Human and divine Deities −

−

EDGod

Humans ArLu A ArOfficials

185 23

EDLu A + EDOfficials

Cattle ArAnimals

24

EDAnimals A

Animals Pigs ArSwine

1

−

Fish ArFish

22

EDFish

Birds ArBirds

6

EDBirds

9*

EDFood

Animal products Meat ArFood Wool/​cloth ArPots&Garments

91

EDPots&Garment

Plants Plants

ArPlants

5

EDPlants

Trees/​wood

ArWood

30

EDWood

Barley/​cereals

ArFood

9*

EDFood

Other materials Pots/​containers ArPots&Garments

91

EdPots&Garments

Metal ArMetal

55

EDMetal

Geography

ArGeography ArCities

12 17

EDGeography EDCities

Reference

ArWord List C (formerly Tribute List)

56

EDWord List C

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Word List C is something “like a quick reference guide, concentrating on frequently used elements of the system such as animals, numbers, foodstuff, and the terminology for work in the fields.”187

3.4.3  The “Sumerian Question” This section discusses the debate regarding the language behind the proto-​ cuneiform texts. When Stephen Langdon published in 1931 his interpretation of a sequence of three signs as the personal name (d)en-​líl-​ti “May Enlil give life” (which depends on the interpretation of the TI sign for arrow as a rebus for the Sumerian word for “life, to live” /​ti(l)/​),188 the question seemed settled; the texts should be read as Sumerian. Recent research is divided on the matter, with Robert Englund establishing that the combination should be read as EN É TI, which “makes the analysis of the name unclear,”189 while Manfred Krebernik has argued that the name en-​é-​ti could mean “The Lord keeps the house/​family alive.”190 Additional arguments have been put forward for Sumerian as either the only language, or one of several languages, behind the archaic texts.191 Englund reviewed all these arguments, distinguishing between those that are purely speculative and those observations that he deemed have some credibility.192 For all, he remained unconvinced. In accordance with his assessment, the database of the CDLI identifies the language of all proto-​cuneiform texts as “undetermined.”193

187. Veldhuis 2006: 193–​194; previously designated as “Tribute List.” 188. Langdon 1931. 189. Englund 1998: 74–​75. 190. Krebernik 2013. 191. For example, Wilcke 2005. 192. Englund 2009: 6–​11. 193. One of the stronger arguments for the Sumerian pronunciation of proto-​ cuneiform signs, namely the position of NUN = abgal in the lexical lists, has to be considered an Uruk III innovation; see the discussion of EN.ME and NUN. ME in Johnson 2015: 177–​181. Johnson’s suggestion that /​abgal/​designates the

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As Niek Veldhuis has put it, proto-​cuneiform writing “is, in essence, an administrative system and does not directly correspond to spoken language.”194 However, as outlined in this chapter, the administrative documents certainly refer to specific transactions, even when their precise reading remains uncertain. For proto-​cuneiform texts, John Baines’s statement regarding the early Egyptian script, that “there could have been no initial expectation that what was written would correspond with what was spoken. Language was not the original chief focus of writing,”195 rings true. Script and speech are two basically different systems, albeit ones that mutually influence each other.196 The linguistic landscape during the Uruk period therefore remains unknown to us. In all probability it was linguistically quite diverse, as it was during all subsequent periods of cuneiform writing.197 From the beginning of the third millennium onward, texts certainly provide evidence for the use of Sumerian and other languages, including Semitic ones,198 and there is little reason to suppose a radically different situation in the later fourth millennium. While the Sumerians are very unlikely to have been the first, or indigenous, settlers in the Mesopotamian alluvial plain, it has occasionally been proposed that the Sumerian immigration took place only after the Uruk IV period (often linked to the refurbishing of the E’ana precinct in the Uruk III period; see section 3.2.2). This is not convincing. Notable differences between the Uruk IV and Uruk III texts are better explained

“head of the AB-​institution” remains unprovable, as does the alternative interpretation as an exocentric nominal compound “(the one responsible for) the big opening,” perhaps a title for someone who ritually initiates building activities; cf. also /​kingal/​“(the one responsible for) large works”: Selz 1998. 194. Veldhuis 2012: 4. 195. Baines 2012: 29. 196. Rubio 2007; Cooper 2008; Selz 2018. 197. Rubio 2005. 198. Michalowski 2007.

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as a reflection of script evolution or script reform, comparable to similar processes in later periods of the cuneiform tradition.

3.4.4  Proto-​Elamite writing From an archaeological point of view, the discoveries in Susa and the Susiana plain, situated to the west (relatively close to southern Mesopotamia), show close parallels to the Uruk-​period material, but the situation in this region differs widely from the Uruk-​period sites in Upper Mesopotamia, Syria, Anatolia, or central and eastern Iran.199 It has been suggested that the Uruk people colonized the Susa region,200 but this remains speculative.201 In any case, the proto-​cuneiform sources mention Elam and Susa. An Uruk III administrative text from Jemdet Nasr lists female slaves or servants qualified as NIMb2.KI “Elamite,”202 and there is a reference to Susa (ZATU-​499, MUŠ3a.EREN, MUŠ3a.ŠEŠ2) in the lexical List of Cities.203 Given the unresolved chronological issues, the question of whether Uruk or Susa took precedence in the development of specific cultural features (including the previously discussed cylinder seal; see sections 3.2.3 and 3.4.1) remains mostly undecided.204 The largely undeciphered proto-​Elamite writing system plays a prominent role in this debate.205 It was very likely influenced by the Uruk proto-​cuneiform system,206 especially as it is now generally agreed that the numerical signs were 199. Stein 1999a: 108–​112. 200. Algaze 1993: 9–​10; also Butterlin 2003: 204–​219. 201. Potts 1999: 52–​59. 202. Selz 1991: 31; Englund in Potts 1999: 87; Krebernik 2007: 62 n. 10. Note, however, that the interpretation of NIMa, NIMb1, NIMb2 in the lexical List of Officials (which includes names of professions) as “Elamite” is considered uncertain. 203. Nissen 1985: 228; Selz 1991: 31; Potts 1999: 87; Krebernik 2007: 69 (especially on the writing). 204. See the concise review of the arguments in Potts 1999: 52–​71. 205. Englund 2004; Dahl 2013. 206. Potts 1999: 59–​63.

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borrowed from proto-​cuneiform. Nevertheless, all stages of the evolution of proto-​cuneiform are also attested in Susa. These include tokens and bullae, numerical tablets, numero-​ideographic tablets, and Uruk IV–​style tablets, all followed by three stages of proto-​Elamite writing (early, middle, and late).207 Unresolved chronological issues hinder us from clarifying its relationship to the (slightly earlier?) Uruk-​type proto-​ cuneiform writing,208 although calibrated radiocarbon data “suggest that there was no complete chronological separation between the Late Uruk and Proto-​Elamite phenomena.”209 Proto-​Elamite writing ceased to be used around 3000 bc and was never revived. The geographical spread of proto-​Elamite tablets is much wider than that of proto-​cuneiform. They have been excavated in various parts of Iran: in Tell-​e Gezer, Tell-​e Malyan, and Tepe Yahya;210 far in the east at Shahr-i Sokhta; and in the north in Tepe Sialk, Tell Sofalin,211 and Ozbaki.212 All proto-​Elamite tablets are administrative documents in one of three distinct formats. Some signs represent objects, qualified by numerical notations, and we can distinguish between those that have a graphic referent and those that do not. Generally, the shapes of these proto-​ Elamite signs look more abstract than those of the Uruk signs. Such signs are semantically differentiated from signs representing the owner, which may have originally represented standards or emblems. Owners are also represented by short strings of signs, possibly an early form of syllabic writing.213

207. Dahl et al. 2013: 371. 208. Dahl et al. 2013: 370 fig. 18.17. 209. Dahl et al. 2013: 364. 210. Damerow and Englund 1989. 211. Dahl et al. 2012. 212. Dahl et al. 2013: 354 fig. 18.1. 213. Dahl et al. 2013: 368–​369.

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207

Overall, the most likely interpretation is that while proto-​Elamite writing was modeled after Uruk proto-​cuneiform, the system soon came into its own and spread across large areas of Iran. Similar adjustments and modifications of other features of the Uruk culture can be observed, for example, in glyptic art and architecture. Despite their indisputable links, the available evidence from the Late Uruk period suggests that Iranian cultural traditions in general, and the Susa/​proto-​Elamite tradition in particular, maintained their independence, at least partially.

3.5.  Aspects of social organization We have already discussed various aspects of the Uruk phenomenon and their possible role in its spread, highlighting the function of climate change and population growth as well as agricultural and technological innovations. For the dissemination of Uruk-​type material culture, the processes of sedentarism, and especially urbanization, can be named as key factors, together with political and social stratification, developed administrative procedures, exploitation of lesser developed regions, interregional trade, and warfare. Approaching Uruk-​type objects as more than just material relics representing a culture and recognizing them as an active means for constituting and reflecting social relationships has dominated recent attempts to understand the Uruk phenomenon.214 In this vein, one might claim that the worldview of the southern Mesopotamian people created the Uruk phenomenon. Metaphysical concepts are crucial in this regard, as they arguably represent and constitute major aspects of the Uruk belief system. The study of material culture, when focusing on the function, visibility, and prestige of artifacts and their use, can provide some insights into this conceptual world. For example, analyzing the bent axis access used for certain key Uruk buildings in order to reconstruct movement can inform us how (social) distance was created and functioned and how it was therefore

214. This is the point of departure for the studies of Collins 2000; Vogel 2008; 2017; and many similar endeavors.

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“inscribed” into the population.215 The different architectural situations in the two major districts of Uruk, E’ana and Kulaba, offer a glimpse into differing socioreligious pragmatics. A comparison of the gigantic assembly halls of E’ana with the smaller but singular, elevated structure of the White Temple in Kulaba may indicate that eventually a select few faced a much larger group of “nobles” who formed the elite echelon of society.

3.5.1  Religious practices and the Uruk worldview Within any belief system, a prominent role is usually attributed to the conception of the divine: to deities and their function. While the Lexical Lists are conspicuously silent here, administrative documents and especially iconography can assist us in recovering some of this information. Most remarkable is the introduction of the divine classifier AN or DINGIR to mark deities in proto-​cuneiform writing. The writing AN.MUŠ3 already attested in thirteen texts of the Uruk IV phase, and its interpretation as dinana, the deified planet Venus and the patron goddess of the E’ana precinct, are beyond doubt.216 The Uruk IV texts attest to two different aspects of Inana:  (d)inana-​ nun217 and dinana-​kur. Both names probably refer to positions of Venus in the sky, the first pointing to her position high in the sky,218 and the

215. Including the Limestone Building and Building C in E’ana as well as the White Temple (with two additional straight-​axis accesses) in the Kulaba. The bent-​ axis access is usually considered a distinctive feature of Sumerian temples; cf. Lawecka 2014 for a discussion of the bent-​axis access in northern and southern Early Dynastic Mesopotamia. 216. For example, W 939,f; W 9578,f; W 9579,ab; W9579; cf. W 10593; W 3662,f; W 13662,g+; W 20364,1+; IM 73473; IM 133656; IM 134507,2; W 20243,1; W 21300,6. 217. The best example is W 24012,10; Cf. also IM 73473; W 9169,c; W 9579,cw; and W 9656,dm. In several instances, when the divine classifier AN is missing, the interpretation of the line remains problematic. 218. Following Szarzyńska 2000, dinana-​nun is usually translated as “Princely Inana” (with unclear implications). The name of the donkey herdsman of the god Ningirsu, den-​sig-​nun (Gudea Cylinder B 10: 3–​8; edition: Edzard 1997),

209

The Uruk Phenomenon

209

Figure 3.8.  Cylinder seal from Uruk, formerly in the Erlenmeyer Collection (Basel, Switzerland). Photo of a modern impression from CDLI (https://​cdli. ucla.edu/​S001379).

second to her invisibility during her movement through the netherworld.219 Two more aspects are attested in Uruk III documents: dinana-​ húd(UD) “Shining/​ Rising Venus”  =  Morning Star, and dinana-​sig “Setting Venus” = Evening Star. The inscription on a cylinder seal of the Uruk III phase is especially informative (see figure 3.8).220 1. EZENb MUŠ3a U4 SIG AN 2. AN AN AN

probably “Lord (who surveys) Below and Above,” and other attestation of /​ nun/​in the meaning “high,” corroborate this interpretation. 219. Selz 2013a:  235; see further Szarzyńska 2000:  64–​67; Steinkeller 2013:  468; 2017: 27. 220. Cylinder seal from Uruk, formerly in the Erlenmeyer Collection (Basel, Switzerland), Seal 1379 in CDLI (https://​cdli.ucla.edu/​S001379). Cf. Steinkeller 2017: 27 with n. 31.

210

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“Festival: Morning (and) Evening Inana: stars.” The central motif of the seal is the bull; any connection to the Sumerian story of “Gilgamesh and the Bull of Heaven,”221 which is attested in writing a millennium later, remains purely speculative. As suggested in section 3.3.4, it may well be that the goods recorded in a number of Uruk III tablets as delivered to the “Triple Inana” were offered to aspects of the goddess Inana of Uruk,222 as she was (perhaps) venerated in Jemdet Nasr and Tell Uqair, where these texts originated.223 In addition to the astral conception of Inana as the planet Venus, she was certainly also conceived of anthropomorphically. Textual sources mention a “sleeping chamber” (é-​ná) of Inana224 and a (sculptor of a) statue (or statues) of Inana.225 The sculpture called Lady of Warka (see section 3.2.3), the face of a composite, life-​sized image, is most likely the only surviving piece of such a statue (see figure 3.9). Perhaps the most famous Uruk-​period artifact of all is the surviving stone vase from Uruk (originally a pair). The depicted narrative, to be “read” from bottom to top, concisely illustrates the Uruk-​period worldview (see figure 3.5, above): water enables agriculture and animal husbandry, thus feeding people and providing the means for them to fulfill the main duty of their existence: to feed and care for the gods. In the top register, a ruler-​priest (“En”; see section 3.5.3) presents offerings to a female individual standing in front of two ring posts with streamers, which mark the entrance to the storage room of a temple226 (perhaps the èš-​inana “Sanctuary [of ] Inana” as attested in contemporary 221. Wilcke 1973: 35–​73; Cavigneaux and Al-​Rawi 1993; George 1999: 166–​175. 222. Steinkeller 2002a:  252–​254; 2017:  27, but cf. Szarzyńska 2000:  65. who has underlined that (d)inana-​nun is not yet attested in Uruk III texts. 223. Selz 2014a. 224. In W 20274,54 and W 20274,36 (not: 20494,9): Szarzyńska 2000: 66; see further Steinkeller 2017: 91 n. 250. 225. The attestations collected by Steinkeller 2017:  91 all concern the sculptor (TAK4.ALAN) of the statue, while the statue itself is attested in IM 134329 and perhaps W 20274,68. 226. For this part of the scene see Selz 2000: 30–​32.

21

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Figure 3.9.  The Lady of Warka, from Uruk. Iraq Museum, Baghdad. Photo by Karen Radner.

administrative texts227), adding to the goods already deposited there. Whether the female is a priestess or the goddess Inana herself has been much debated, but in the end it is of minor importance. Thorkild Jacobsen’s idea that the scene represents a “religious drama” still seems to be the best interpretation.228

227. Szarzyńska 2000: 66. 228. Jacobsen 1975. A  much later literary text from the Inana-​Dumuzi cycle, dubbed “Meeting at the Storehouse,” reads like an elaborate description of this scene: Sefati 1998: 247–​256. Note, however, that the composition is only attested more than a millennium after the vase was made.

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The scene behind the two big gateposts has often been neglected but is equally important (see fi ­ gures 3.5 and 3.10). Two similar figures, perhaps male and female, stand on platforms of differing height raised on the back of two rams. They may be representations of statues. The figure on the higher platform holds in his (?) almost fully extended arms a depiction of the symbol that is commonly thought to be the origin of the logogram EN (= ZATU 134; the “tray with beakers,” German Bechertablett; see also section 3.5.3).229 The second figure stands with her back to the reed stalk symbol of the goddess Inana, clasping the wrist of her raised left hand with her right hand, in a gesture of unclear meaning. Behind these figures are two immense vessels containing the crops from gardens and fields. Between these lies a severed bull’s head, apparently indicating cuts of meat, another of which is perhaps represented lying on the floor.230 It is only of secondary importance whether this storehouse scene refers primarily to the foodstuff to be consumed during a feast. What is clear is that the entire Uruk Vase narrative emphasizes the importance of the staple economies of the city. The spread of many aspects of its material culture and their related technologies was an integral part of the Uruk phenomenon, and the ideological framework depicted on the vase, which stands at the core of the Uruk worldview, is certain to have spread to some extent with the technologies, goods, and people from southern Mesopotamia into neighboring regions. Elements from the Uruk Vase narrative are attested on seals, which as highly mobile artifacts as well as in the form of their sealings were well suited for aiding in the transfer of ideas. Scenes of processions,231 but also of encounter and storage,232 underline the ideological significance of these activities. 229. So already Heinrich 1936: 16. 230. Cf. the seal published by Heidenreich 1933: 200, pl. 1:1, in which several pieces of meat are grouped around fruit baskets. In later periods of Mesopotamian history, bulls/​oxen are the most valuable offerings and thus usually reserved for the most important deity. 231. For example, W 14772,cl; W 14597,I (including animal rows). 232. W 12057; W 14772,c, and ZV 2996: Crüsemann et al. 2013: 85 fig. 11.4–​11.6, 143 fig. 20.5.

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Figure 3.10.  Detail of the Uruk Vase. Photo by Karen Radner.

3.5.2  Social stratification and governance All the preceding evidence testifies to a highly stratified society, based on a division of labor that transcended the kinship groups and tribal structures that characterize “chiefdom-​style” governance, with the remaining significance of family and kin tantalizingly obscure.233 The Uruk economy was founded on horticulture, agriculture, fishery, and animal husbandry alike. The manufacture of goods, most notably textiles, often

233. Bernbeck and Pollock 2002: 190–​192. It may well be that the neglect of kinship and genealogies in the majority of written sources from the first half of the third millennium reflects an Uruk-​period tradition.

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requires a complex chain of production, linked to a higher degree of specialization. For Uruk itself, the written records provide more specific details. First of all, the terms SAL and KURa are designations for female and male institutional slaves,234 that is, laborers in a state of servitude. How they came to hold this status, whether they were taken captive in wars or simply represented the lower echelons of society, is uncertain. Such laborers must be distinguished from slaves attached to private households, the “chattel slaves,” but these are not traceable in the Uruk-​period records. The Uruk list of titles and offices (ArLu A), with 116 entries, and the shorter list of names and professions (ArOfficials), with 73 entries, are key witnesses to inner-​urban stratification and hierarchization. There is no doubt that a centralized, redistributive economy, organized into large institutional households, played a major role, but other economic modes may well have existed at the same time. Whether the institutional households were related to extended families or to tribal structures remains unknown, and we do not know whether there was a family-​centered (or “private”) economic sector alongside the institutional households.235 Regarding Uruk’s relationship to its hinterland, the numerous Late Uruk–​period settlements must have depended to a large extent on the urban center for administrative and labor organization. Such settlements may have been further organized into secondarily hierarchized clusters, although there is no concrete evidence for this (as of yet). It is not clear why there are two different, albeit thematically related lists;236 however, it is important to note that in Uruk IV, only ArLu A is attested, while all known manuscripts for ArOfficials date to the subsequent Uruk III period.237 Both lists are (at least partially) arranged in a

234. Englund 2009. 235. For archaeologically identifiable households see Foster 2012 and Frangipane 2018. 236. As the list ArOfficials contains a number of titles attested in ArLu A, ll. 23ff. 237. Johnson 2015: 182, 184: ArOfficials “underwent a series of continual, if minor, modifications from the Uruk III period down into the Early Dynastic period, largely in the form of the replacement of outdated orthographies with more

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hierarchical order.238 ArLu A begins with the entry NAMEŠDA,239 while UKKINa is the first entry in ArOfficials. The written forms of both these terms have their origin in depictions of characteristic vessel types,240 an object category well suited to reflect specific and elevated social status. Overall, the sequencing of the two lists functions in parallel to the hierarchical distribution principles for specific foodstuffs. This matches the “food paradigm,” according to which early societies use food as a prime societal indicator of status.241 Cale Johnson has stated accordingly: “The distribution of cuts of meat and fish serves as an ideal semiotic vehicle for the expression of subtle gradations in social and institutional status, while at the same time integrating the various offices of the Late Uruk administration within a single institutional matrix.”242 It has often been proposed that the two lists may relate to a bicameral sociopolitical system, in which government was shared between the “assembly of the elders” and

transparent notations”; “titles and offices that had gone out of use in the transformation of the NAMEŠDA List [= ArLu A] that took place between the Uruk IV and Uruk III periods were preserved to some degree.” 238. Cf. the sequence in the Uruk IV text W 9656,h:  2:3. UKKIN GALb 2:4. UKKIN GEŠTUb 2:5. UKKIN NUNa 2:6. GA GALb 2:7. GA GEŠTUb 2:8 GA NUNa (Englund and Nissen 1993: pl. 23). Following Johnson 2015: 174–​ 176, this is an organization in tripartite hierarchy, where the “three proto-​ cuneiform signs (GALb, GEŠTUb and NUNa) . . . mark the three hierarchical levels within each office.” Elsewhere, a number of terms occur in combination with GAL(a), thereby creating titles that most likely refer to the respective supervisors: Selz 1998: 297–​298. 239. NAMEŠDA is well attested in administrative documents, and Johnson 2015: 196–​198 recently suggested that the title designates a person or an office responsible for the distribution of cuts of meat to the Uruk elite. The term was previously interpreted as “lord of the mace” or “office of the mace” (cf. Selz 1998: 295 n. 53, 300–​301), based on the fact that the later word /​šita/​(of which /​ešda/​is a spelling variant) is a designation for “mace” (as well as for specific prayers and offerings). 240. Johnson 2015: 186–​190, with a discussion of IM 73409,1. 241. Cf. Milano 1998; Milano and Tonietti 2012. 242. Johnson 2015: 201.

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the “assembly of the militia,”243 although this interpretation can be called into question. The Sumerian story of Gilgamesh and Akka is usually cited as evidence. Johnson, for example, has written that the assumed division of power in Uruk between the NAMEŠDA organization and the UKKINa organization “could easily have served as inspiration for the bicameral model in the epic tale of Gilgamesh and Akka.”244 However, as this tale was composed over one millennium after the Late Uruk period, there are obvious methodological issues with this suggestion.245

3.5.3  The “Ruler-​Priest” At the apex of Uruk society stands the “ruler-​priest,” as evidenced by many iconographic sources. He is represented not as an individual but as a type, signified by his characteristic hairstyle and dress: he wears a brimmed cap and a long kilt (either plain or with a net-​like texture), and his hair is bound up into a bun.246 In Mesopotamia, this figure has been attested from the Uruk V period down to Early Dynastic times, and Helga Vogel has recently offered a concise discussion of the iconography of this figure.247 The context in which he is depicted always emphasizes his supreme role in society, showing him in processions, meeting with a female figure (probably the goddess Inana or her human representative), feeding animals, fighting

243. Selz 1998. The contextualization of NAMEŠDA and UKKIN by Lecompte 2018 reveals that previous descriptions of these offices are highly questionable. 244. Johnson 2015: 171; cf. Römer 1980; further Selz 1998. 245. The key subject of Gilgamesh and Akka is the conflict between Uruk and Kiš, and this points to the specific historical situation in the early third millennium (probably the reason this topic was excluded from the younger Gilgamesh tradition). Both assemblies are called uĝkiĝ (UKKIN)-​ĝar-​ra “summoned assembly,” also indicating an early origin. It may well be that militias gained influence when the Uruk culture went into decline. 246. Potts 1999: 69; Wilhelm 2001. 247. Vogel 2013. She called this figure “big man” (German Grosser Mann), which is a straightforward translation of the Sumerian title lugal. Although this term is attested thirteen times in the proto-​cuneiform documents (Englund 2009: 13 with n. 35), there is no clear evidence that its meaning could be “ruler.”

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beasts, or beating prisoners.248 The fact that this figure is also attested in contemporary Susa highlights the city’s close relationship with Uruk.249 The ruler-​priest type also influenced Egyptian iconography, as demonstrated by the depiction on the ceremonial knife of Gebel el-​Arak (Nag Hamadi) near Abydos in Upper Egypt, which combines Mesopotamian and Egyptian elements.250 The usual identification of this figure with the later Sumerian title En, which is typically interpreted as “lord,” is widely accepted. As Jacobsen stated: “The traditional English rendering ‘lord’ [for the title En] would be happier if it had preserved over-​tones of its original meaning ‘bread-​ keeper’ (hlaford), for the core concept of en is that of the successful economic manager.”251 The possible identification of the proto-​cuneiform sign for EN (= ZATU 134) with the depiction of a symbol on the top register of the Uruk Vase has already been discussed (see also section 3.5.1). The identification of the figure of the ruler-​priest with the sign EN and the word En is not unlikely, although the evidence from proto-​ cuneiform documents complicates the straightforward description of the ruler of Uruk as En.252 What is certain is that in the Uruk-​period 248. Compare the sealings collected in Boehmer 1999 and also Brandes 1979. Fragments of a life-​sized figure with characteristic hair and beard were excavated in the “Riemchen-​Gebäude” at Uruk:  Wrede 1995; Vogel 2013:  141 fig. 20.3. An unprovenanced statuette of a naked male person features the same hairdo and beard: Vogel 2013: 142 fig. 20.4. 249. Braun-​Holzinger 2007: 20–​21, 27 with pl. 12: FS 25. 250. Sievertsen 1992; Kraus 1995; Dreyer 1999. 251. Jacobsen and Kramer 1953: 180–​181. This notion is also supported by the etymology of the Early Dynastic ruler title ensi(-​k), which, following Steinkeller 2017: 103, may be derived from < *en-​še-​ak “lord of the grain (distribution).” 252. The sign variants ENb and ENa are attested in altogether 174 instances (according to CDLI), but they may refer to a group of people rather than to a single person. The sign combinations NUNa+ENa and ENa IBa are especially well-​ attested in different lexical texts, while W 14337,a* 2:3 (Archaic Vocabulary) has the entry 1(N01), ENa ENa. However, the title is not attested as an individual entry in ArLu A and ArOfficials and therefore does not appear among what could be seen to be Uruk’s most important offices. A number of titles are written with the sign EN, such as engiz (EN.ME.GI) and endib (EN.ME.MU), but it remains unclear how such personnel, responsible for example for heating and cooking, would relate to the En. The term EN.TUR designates an age grade in the Uruk-​period slave accounts: Englund 2009: 15. Finally, EN and LUGAL can occur in the same document; for example, W 20274,34.

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texts, EN does not exclusively designate the ruler-​priest. Both the textual and the pictorial evidence suggest that the Uruk sociopolitical system was not exclusively monocratic/​monarchic. Whatever our reconstruction, it should consider elements of polycracy and even heterarchy. Be that as it may, in the third millennium bc, the office of the En was certainly seen as the highest position in Uruk. This is most explicitly expressed in a passage from the inscription of an Early Dynastic ruler of Uruk: “when Enlil (var. Inana) has doubled for him (the ruler Lugalkinešdudu) the lordship (nam-​en) with the kingship (nam-​lugal), he performed the lordship in Uruk, he performed the kingship in Ur.”253

3.5.4  An emergent state The Uruk phenomenon has received much attention as an early example of an emergent state.254 To what extent this state is seen as a fully centralized organization controlling bureaucratic, legal, military, and religious institutions is largely a matter of interpretation. The emergence of statehood in southern Mesopotamia was clearly intertwined with the process of urbanization and the development of Uruk as a center that functioned as the administrative and political hub from which other settlements depended hierarchically. This coincides with progressive specialization and division of labor, as best evidenced by the proto-​cuneiform records of the Late Uruk period. Already by the Middle Uruk period and continuing into the Late Uruk period, the heartland of the Uruk state experienced an increase in population, with the number of settlements in the Uruk hinterland multiplying tenfold.255 In contrast to this, the number of settlements in the neighboring regions of northern Mesopotamia and

253. Steible 1982: 300, 303: Uruk 2:4–​14 //​4: 5–​14; Frayne 2008: 413, 415. 254. For example, Johnson 1973; Neumann 1990; Kristiansen 1999; Butterlin 2003; Earle 1991; Potts 1991; Stein and Rothman 1994; Selz 1998; 2011; Rothman 2001; 2004; Algaze 2005; Adams 2005; Charvát 2005; Yoffee 2006; Selz 2013b; Steinkeller 2017; Frangipane 2018. 255. Adams and Nissen 1972; Nissen 2012: 49.

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the Susiana sharply decreased while coming under the influence of the Uruk culture.256 The inner organization of the Uruk state remains relatively obscure. If the idea of a monarchic ruler-​priest heading the city of Uruk is already problematic, it is even more so for the extended Uruk network. At Uruk itself, a class of “nobles” that came together in the huge assembly halls of the E’ana precinct may have balanced the ruler-​priest’s power, possibly in the shape of several competing and possibly heterarchical social groups within the society (which perhaps included the priesthood and military commanders), as these groups would plausibly have played a role in the spread of the Uruk culture.

3.6.  Collapse or transformation? The peak and the collapse of the Uruk phenomenon occurred very close in time to each other. Toward the end of the fourth millennium bc, the Uruk-​period network beyond southern Mesopotamia257 (with the sole exception of Tell Brak258) broke down. In northern Mesopotamia and Syria, this period is characterized by the appearance of “Nineveh 5” ceramics. By that time, many sites were surrounded by walls, clearly for defensive purposes, although no destruction levels have been identified so far. While the decline of Uruk’s influence in the north and in the west is beyond doubt, the situation in Iran is more complex. However, the Susiana and other parts of southwestern Iran certainly strayed from the cultural path previously shared with southern Mesopotamia in order to explore separate directions,259 with proto-​Elamite writing providing the most prominent example.

256. Nissen 2012: 50 (with previous literature). 257. Nissen 2001; 2012: 62; Johnson 1988–​1989; Frangipane 2001a; 2016; Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 207–​209. 258. Oates et al. 2007. 259. Nissen 2012: 61.

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In the Uruk hinterland, smaller settlements were abandoned, whereas the urban center itself increased further in size.260 At this time, at the transition from the Uruk IVb to the Uruk III period, the complete restructuring of the E’ana precinct took place in Uruk. Although this is sometimes seen to mark the end of the Uruk period, data from the transitional Uruk III phase (also known as Jemdat Nasr period) are included in this discussion of the Uruk phenomenon. This seems justified by the continuation of many cultural traits in southern Mesopotamia, despite some marked changes. In the ceramic record, the distinct BRBs were superseded in Uruk and Abu Salabikh by coarse conical bowls, also mass-​ produced but made on the potter’s wheel rather than with molds; such vessels are well attested into the subsequent Early Dynastic periods.261 How far climatic change, namely the Piora Oscillation between 3200 and 2900 bc, with its drop in temperature and increased rainfall, contributed to these changes remains unclear. Likewise, the extent and impact of the alleged intrusions into Mesopotamia by people from eastern Anatolia and Transcaucasia,262 as well as of Semitic-​speaking people from the west, are unclear, although the latter certainly shaped central and northern Mesopotamia in the first half of the third millennium bc (see ­chapter 8).

3.7. Aftermath The influence of the Uruk phenomenon on Mesopotamian history, and history more generally, was immense, with its script proving to be an extremely long-​lived innovation. In the subsequent Early Dynastic period, Uruk writing continued to evolve without interruption and, as the “cuneiform script,” came to be a fully fledged, mixed logo-​syllabic writing system, which in southern Mesopotamia now certainly recorded the Sumerian language. The complex administrative procedures

260. Nissen 1983: 78–​79; see also Pollock 2015. 261. Gruber 2015. 262. Lupton 1996: 94–​97; Frangipane and Palmieri 1988.

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established in the Late Uruk period survived, albeit with some modifications, as did the lexical tradition, for which the archives of Ebla in northeastern Syria provide the most impressive examples, especially the bilingual Ebla Vocabulary (in Sumerian and Eblaitic, a Semitic language). As far as is known today, Ebla never sat within the Uruk culture’s sphere of influence, and the cuneiform script was introduced there only during the late Early Dynastic period (see ­chapter 8). Uruk’s fame was remembered for as long as texts were written in the cuneiform script and beyond. The Sumerian tales featuring Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, were transmitted, rearranged, modified, and translated into Akkadian and other languages for the purpose of justifying and strengthening the legitimacy of kings and their dynasties from southern Mesopotamia to Central Anatolia. These stories were especially popular during the time of the Third Dynasty of Ur, in the last century of the third millennium bc. Although the Gilgamesh tales and the stories of the Uruk kings Lugalbanda and Enmerkar can shed much light on religious and political sensibilities in the later third millennium bc, they cannot be used for illuminating the Uruk period, as stated in the introduction to this chapter. And yet there are remarkable correlations. Most important, the Enmerkar narrative that portrays this ruler of Uruk as the inventor of writing263 chimes with the historical context of the invention of writing in Uruk in the Late Uruk period. According to this story, as the messenger sent from Uruk to Aratta was unable to transmit his difficult and complex message to the Lord of Aratta, Enmerkar of Uruk took a lump of clay, flattened it out, and put his words onto it.264 But as tempting as it may be to see the antagonism and competition between the Mesopotamian and the Elamite world, as attested in

263. Mittermayer 2009: 57–​62, arguing that the experience of multilingualism provides the background for the invention of writing in this narrative. 264. Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta, ll. 500–​509; see Mittermayer 2009: 62–​66. The sequence “sealing on clay” and “putting words on clay” in the relevant passage matches our modern reconstruction of the evolution of writing well.

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the Enmerkar and Lugalbanda cycles,265 as a reflection of the relationship between southern Mesopotamia and the Susiana during the Uruk period, it is unlikely that these stories were directly inspired by events of the late fourth millennium bc, as these neighboring regions were time and again competitors, especially in the long-​distance trade. R ef er en c es Abdi, K. 2003. The early development of pastoralism in the Central Zagros mountains. JWP 17: 395–​448. Abusch, T. 1981. Note on a pair of matching texts:  a shepherd’s bulla and an owner’s receipt. In Morrison, M.A. and Owen, D.I. (eds.), Studies on the civilization and culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians: Festschrift E.R. Lacheman. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1–​9. Adams, R.McC. 1981. Heartland of cities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Adams, R.McC. 2005. Critique of Guillermo Algaze’s “The Sumerian takeoff ”. Structure and Dynamics 1(1). Retrieved from https://​escholarship. org/​uc/​item/​5m8043vf (last accessed November 2018). Adams, R.McC. and Nissen, H.J. 1972. The Uruk countryside. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Akkermans, P.M.M.G. and Schwartz, G.M. 2003. The archaeology of Syria:  from complex hunter-​gatherers to early urban societies (ca. 16,000–​ 3000 bc). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Alden, J.R. 1982. Trade and politics in Proto-​Elamite Iran. CA 23: 613−628. Alden, J.R. 1988. Ceramic ring scrapers: an Uruk period pottery production tool. Paléorient 14: 143–​150. Alden, J.R. and Minc, L. 2017. Itinerant potters and the transmission of ceramic technologies and styles during the Proto-​Elamite period in Iran. JAS-​R 7: 863–​876. Algaze, G. 1989. The Uruk expansion:  cross-​ cultural exchange in early Mesopotamian civilization. CA 30: 571–​808. Algaze, G. 1993. The Uruk world system:  the dynamics of expansion of early Mesopotamian civilization. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

265. Vanstiphout 2003.

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Algaze, G. 2001. The prehistory of imperialism:  the case of Uruk period Mesopotamia. In Rothman, M.S. (ed.), Uruk Mesopotamia and its neighbors: cross-​cultural interactions in the era of state formation. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press, 3–​26. Algaze, G. 2005. The Sumerian takeoff. Structure and Dynamics 1(1). Retrieved from https://​escholarship.org/​uc/​item/​76r673km (last accessed November 2018). Baines, J. 2012. Script, high culture, and administration in Middle Kingdom Egypt. In Houston, S.D. (ed.), The shape of script:  how and why writing systems change. Santa Fe, NM: School for Advanced Research Press, 25–​63. Bartash, V. 2015. On the Sumerian city UB-​meki, the alleged “Umma”. CDLB 2015:  2. Retrieved from http://​cdli.ucla.edu/​pubs/​cdlb/​2015/​cdlb2015_​ 002.html (last accessed November 2018). Bauer, J., Englund, R.K. and Krebernik, M. 1998. Mesopotamien:  Späturuk-​ und Frühdynastische Zeit. Fribourg:  Academic Press & Göttingen:  Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Becker, A. 1993. Uruk: Kleinfunde I: Stein. Mainz: Zabern. Bernbeck, R. and Pollock, S. 2002. Reflections on the historiography of 4th millennium Mesopotamia. In Hausleiter, A., Kerner, S. and Müller-​ Neuhof, B. (eds.), Material culture and mental spheres:  Rezeption archäologischer Denkrichtungen in der Vorderasiatischen Altertumskunde. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 171–​204. Boehmer, R.M. 1984. Kalkstein für das urukzeitliche Uruk. BaM 15: 141–​147. Boehmer, R.M. 1999. Uruk: Früheste Siegelabrollungen. Mainz: Zabern. Brandes, M.A. 1965. Bruchstücke einer archaischen Stele aus Uruk-​Warka. Archäologischer Anzeiger 4: 590–​691. Brandes, M.A. 1979. Siegelabrollungen aus den archaischen Bauschichten in Uruk-​Warka. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Braun-​Holzinger, E. 2007. Das Herrscherbild in Mesopotamien und Elam. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Broadbent, G. 2008. The ecology of the Mudhif. WIT Transactions on Ecology and the Environment 113: 15–​26. Butterlin, P. 2003. Les temps proto-​urbains de Mésopotamie: contacts et acculturation à l’époque d’Uruk au Moyen-​Orient. Paris: CNRS editions. Butterlin, P. 2016. Uruk-​Kultur (culture urukéenne). RlA 14: 487–​494. Cavigneaux, A. and Al-​Rawi, F.N.H.1993. Gilgamesh et Taureau de Ciel (šul-​ mè-​kam) (Textes de Tell Haddad IV). RA 87: 97–​129.

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Charvát, P. 1998. On people, signs and states:  spotlights on Sumerian society, c. 3500–​2500 bc. Prague: Oriental Institute. Charvát, P. 2002. Mesopotamia before history. London and New  York: Routledge. Charvát, P. 2005. The iconography of pristine statehood: painted pottery and seal impressions from Susa, southwestern Iran. Prague: Karolinum Press. Civil, M. 2010. The lexical texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MA: CDL Press. Collins, P. 2000. The Uruk phenomenon: the role of social ideology in the expansion of the Uruk culture during the fourth millennium bc. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Collon, D. 1988. First impressions:  cylinder seals in the ancient Near East. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Cooper, J.S. 2008. Incongruent corpora:  writing and art in ancient Iraq. In Taylor, P. (ed.), Iconography without texts. London:  Warburg Institute,  69–​94. Crüsemann, N., van Ess, M., Hilgert, M. and Salje, B. (eds.) 2013. Uruk: 5000 Jahre Megacity. Petersberg: Michael Imhof. Uruk: first city of the ancient world. English edition 2019. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum. Dahl, J.L. 2013. Early writing in Iran. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 233–​262. Dahl, J.L., Hessari, M. and Yousefi Zoshk, R. 2012. The Proto-​Elamite tablets from Tape Sofalin. Iranian Journal of Archaeological Studies 2: 57–​73. Dahl, J.L., Petrie, C.A. and Potts, D.T. 2013. Chronological parameters of the earliest writing system in Iran. In Petrie, C.A. (ed.), Ancient Iran and its neighbours: local developments and long-​range interactions in the fourth millennium bc. Oxford: Oxbow, 353–​378. Damerow, P. 1993. Review of D.  Schmandt-​Besserat 1992. Rechtshistorisches Journal 12: 9–​35. Damerow, P. 1996a. Abstraction and representation: essays on the cultural evolution of thinking. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Damerow, P. 1996b. On the relationship between ontogenesis and historiogenesis of the number concept. In Damerow, P., Abstraction and representation: essays on the cultural evolution of thinking. Dordrecht: Kluwer, 299–​370. Damerow, P. and Englund, R.K. 1987. Die Zahlzeichensysteme der archaischen Texte aus Uruk. In Green, M.W. and Nissen, H.J., Zeichenliste der archaischen Texte aus Uruk. Berlin: Mann, 117–​166.

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Early Dynastic Egypt Laurel Bestock

4.1. Introduction The Early Dynastic period in Egypt (see ­figure 4.1) is defined by the establishment, growth, and codification of pharaonic kingship; there were kings of Egypt but not yet pyramids. While some elements of Egyptian kingship have roots prior to the Early Dynastic period, and while the ideology and manifestations of kingship continued to evolve in succeeding periods, much that is familiar from later Egyptian kingship first became evident or was first standardized in these early dynasties. This is true of everything from an association between the king and the god Horus, to royal festivals such as the ceremony of rejuvenation called the sed-​festival, to administrative practices such as biennial surveys of wealth, to symbols such as the Red and White Crowns of Egypt. Because even the definition of the period relies so heavily on this tie to kingship, any examination of it depends fundamentally on an examination of that institution. As is increasingly recognized, however, the Egyptian state itself was not as straightforward or homogeneous in the Early Dynastic period as has sometimes been portrayed, nor perhaps did it reach as deep as one might think on the basis of royal ideology. This chapter thus addresses a series of thematic concerns before turning to a historical outline of the Laurel Bestock, Early Dynastic Egypt In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0005.

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Figure  4.1a.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter  4. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

period, with the thread of kingship present throughout. A discussion of Early Dynastic chronology and geography is not straightforward, and the question of precisely when and what was controlled by the Egyptian king is central to the definition of this period. The nature of our sources and the problems that arise from them are then addressed. This overview of sources is followed by a short review of the tradition of scholarship on the Early Dynastic period. A brief discussion of administration serves as

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Figure 4.1c.    

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an introduction to the historical outline on a reign-​by-​reign basis. This is currently one of the most actively researched periods in Egyptian history, particularly in terms of archaeological work, and the picture presented here is intended to be a snapshot of the state of current understanding and the bases on which that is formed, rather than a definitive history.

4.2. Chronology The Early Dynastic period, referred to in older scholarship as the Archaic period, is defined in most literature as the First and Second Dynasties. There has long been a fair amount of disagreement about when precisely to begin the First Dynasty—​with king Narmer or his successor, Aha—​and much of the discussion has revolved around which of these two historically attested kings could be identified with Menes, a figure later codified as the unifier of Upper and Lower Egypt.1 This particular debate persists, even though it is now recognized that there was no single unification of Egypt and that the process of state formation was longer and not as linear as previously thought.2 This chapter considers the period immediately preceding the First Dynasty; though they are not usually classed as part of the Early Dynastic period proper, these transitional generations are critical for understanding the nascent monarchy of Egypt. Two of the features that can be said to most closely define pharaonic kingship—​the association between kings and the god Horus and some measure of control over both the Nile valley and the Nile delta—​are present prior to the First Dynasty no matter with which king one begins that dynasty. At least two kings prior to the reign of Narmer can even be named and associated with particular tombs. This period is usually called Dynasty 0 in recognition

1. Recently, see Dreyer 2007, but the debate is of very long standing. For a list of scholars who have concluded the Menes debate either in favor of Narmer or Aha see T.C. Heagy’s website “The Narmer Catalog” (https://​www.narmer.org/​ menes; last accessed 30 May 2019). 2. For an overview of the history of research into state formation in Egypt see Köhler 2010.

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of the very close connections it seems to have with the First Dynasty. The term “Protodynastic” has come into common usage in acknowledgment of this period of transition, and appropriately, the Protodynastic itself is not easy to put bookends on. This chapter begins with those kings of Dynasty 0 whose tombs are known at the site of Abydos (see also ­chapter 2 in this volume) and concludes at the end of the Second Dynasty.3 The absolute chronology of the Early Dynastic period relies to some degree on historical records related to the length of royal reigns; our understanding of it has more recently been clarified by radiocarbon analysis.4 The date of the accession of Aha to the throne can now be placed between 3218 and 3035 bc with 95  percent confidence. We can thus securely locate Dynasty 0 and the early First Dynasty in the late fourth millennium. The transition from the First to the Second Dynasties can be placed between 2900 and 2750 bc with 95 percent confidence.5 A date of 2691–​2625 bc for the beginning of the reign of Djoser, which started the Third Dynasty and thus closed the Early Dynastic period, can now be given with 95 percent confidence.6 For the First Dynasty, for which the order of kings is known with most confidence, the radiocarbon studies allow for generational-​scale absolute dating.

4.3. Geography The Early Dynastic period is defined not only because it has recognizably pharaonic kings in relatively easily defined dynasties, but also because

3. Some scholars consider the Third Dynasty to belong to the Early Dynastic period, and it is included in the most comprehensive survey of the period to date; cf. Wilkinson 1999. It is not discussed here because it is more commonly considered part of the Old Kingdom. 4. The Bayesian statistical method utilized in these studies requires confidence in the relative chronology of royal names. For an overview of the concordance of textual and archaeological data that has led to such confidence see Kahl 2006. 5. Dee et al. 2014. 6. Ramsey et al. 2010.

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those kings ruled a recognizable Egypt. As with chronology, the apparently hard borders of this territory—​ranging from the Mediterranean coast in the north to the First Cataract on the Nile in the south—​are in fact substantially blurrier when trying to account for who lived where and what relation they had to the early state. The blurriness is even more pronounced when one makes the mistake of correlating cultural entities with political ones.7 This section addresses both the territories of Egypt itself and the relations between the Egyptian state and its neighbors. The widespread idea that Egypt had entirely static boundaries at any period is a bit of a myth.8 A notable problem of geography in the Early Dynastic period is not only that boundaries—​and even presumably the notion of what a boundary was—​were changing during the process of state formation, but also that it is unclear if terms and iconography that are geographically specific later held the same meaning in this era. Compounding the problem is that references to peoples and places are already couched in terms and used in contexts that are ideologically coded rather than strictly reportorial. Defining territories relies on texts that refer to places and on texts and material culture that are found in places. The relationship between these is not straightforward; the presence of a king’s name on artifacts in one place does not necessarily mean he controlled it, nor do material culture affiliations speak directly to politics. An example of this confusion can be seen when trying to pin down the meaning of the basic designations of Upper and Lower Egypt in this period. As theoretical concepts linked to geography and tied together by the king’s ritual actions, the balanced opposition of Upper and Lower Egypt and their association with two goddesses and two crowns existed from at least the middle of the First Dynasty. Terms and symbols that would refer to these halves were in some cases present before the First Dynasty or in its first reigns; for instance, ink inscriptions on ceramics from Dynasty 0 already distinguish between the sedge plant (Upper

7. Köhler  2008b. 8. Goelet 1999: 24.

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Egypt) and the papyrus (Lower Egypt), presumably as the place of origin of the contents of the vessels. And Narmer is shown wearing alternately the White Crown of Upper Egypt and the Red Crown of Lower Egypt, the former while he violently subjugated a person associated with papyrus lands. But that the geographic and theoretical meanings of these symbols had yet achieved stasis is less clear; the early history of the Red Crown is particularly opaque, and its very first attestation, far before this period, is in the south.9 The degree to which there was a “Lower Egypt” in terms of either geographic boundaries or cultural, religious, and political associations in the beginning of the Early Dynastic period is therefore unclear. The delta itself was not homogeneous in this period, and different places within it may have had different relations with the early state; once more, the possible instability of references is an issue for interpretation. The term Tjehenu and abbreviations of it were common in this period, and it was certainly a reference to a people and a place. In later times Tjehenu was usually translated as “Libyan,” but there is some reason to think that in the Early Dynastic period it referred to the western delta. Some objects bear images of violence against people who are both labeled Tjehenu and marked with papyrus, suggesting royal military action, real or ritual, to subjugate the place. However, Tjehenu is also the origin of much of the oil mentioned on the commodities labels that note royal events—​ one of our chief sources of inscribed material from the period and an indication that Tjehenu was thoroughly available to kings as a source of goods. Any shifts in reference for this term when looking at a combination of administrative control and idealized, ideological geography are difficult to trace. What exactly constituted Lower Egypt, and if Tjehenu was part of it, prior to the codification of iconography in the middle of the First Dynasty is especially unclear; trying to define boundaries for early Egypt in a time of great shifts is probably a mistake. That there were changes over the course of the Early Dynastic period in terms of the organization of territory is clear, not only from this example but also in the

9. Payne 1993: fig. 34, no. 774; Kahl 2007a: 16–​18.

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development during this time of the first use of a system of administrative districts now called “nomes,” familiar from later periods.10 If Egypt’s internal borders were in some flux in this period and difficult to define, the same is true of its boundaries and relationships with adjacent lands, both to the northeast and to the south. Such a large number of sites in the southern Levant have produced evidence of Early Dynastic Egyptian material culture and even administrative practices that it is now largely accepted that the nascent Egyptian state colonized the area, rather than just trading intensively with it.11 This is clear particularly from sites with overwhelmingly Egyptian material in the south. Tell es-​Sakan in the Gaza Strip has multiple phases with major fortifications and ceramic assemblages that are 90–​95 percent Egyptian in the relevant layers; there are also kings’ names from Dynasty 0 and the First Dynasty, which also appear at a number of other sites.12 En Besor has seal impressions, ceramics, and architecture that are all distinctly Egyptian though made with local materials; it appears to have served as a staging post for expeditions going farther north.13 Areas to the north and east of the most obviously Egyptian sites, while retaining more local material culture traditions, also show signs of interaction with Egypt.14 Drawing hard lines on a map is not possible in such a situation, neither a hard line between Egypt and its colonies nor one between its colonies and the territories beyond. This was a quickly shifting relationship, and the disappearance of the colonies has usually been understood to represent a shift to maritime trade with the Levant during the mid-​First Dynasty.15 The situation is just as complicated to the south. The First Cataract of the Nile is an important geographical barrier and was the location

10. Engel 2006. 11. The bibliography on this phenomenon is extensive; for an overview and references see Braun 2002. 12. Miroschedji et al. 2001; Levy et al. 2001: 430–​436. 13. Schulman 1983; Gophna 1995. 14. Yekutieli 2004. 15. Sowada 2009: 247.

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of a fortification built in the late First or early Second Dynasty on the island of Elephantine.16 The material culture of Elephantine from the Early Dynastic period reflects a mix of “Egyptian” and “Nubian” traits.17 Ceramics of the “A-​Group Nubian” culture are found well north of the First Cataract; in much larger quantities, Egyptian ceramics are found south of that “border.” To what degree these were two truly distinguishable cultures, as opposed to something closer to a continuum with more or fewer shared traits in the material depending in part on proximity, is unknown.18 The close affinity between southern Egypt and northern Nubia at that time can be seen in the borrowing of motifs related to kingship found on objects in elite tombs in A-​Group cemeteries. Large tumulus burials in hierarchically organized cemeteries point to social complexity and perhaps political organization in the Terminal A-​ Group.19 The political relationship between Egypt and the A-​Group is as opaque as the cultural; the A-​Group “disappearance” from the Nile valley during the First Dynasty is often attributed to Egyptian aggression.20 Terminology and iconography referring to the region on either side of the First Cataract cause some confusion even for later periods in Egypt, when both the southernmost Egyptian nome and the territory of Lower Nubia were called Ta-​Seti: Land of the Bow.21 Multiple documents of the Early Dynastic period label captives with a bow, which is usually read as indicating military action against the south. But south

16. Ziermann 2003. 17. Raue 2008: 2–​4. 18. Roy 2011. 19. O’Connor 1993:  10–​23. For further information on the Sayala cemetery see Smith 1994; for Qustul see Williams 1980; Adams 1985; Williams 1987. 20. This has been the traditional reading of the Gebel Sheikh Suleiman relief (see section 4.7.2.3). However, there is disagreement about when exactly the A-​Group would have disappeared and what evidence from the Egyptian side might tell us about supposed military expeditions in the area. See Török 2009: 49–​51 (with references). 21. For a brief discussion and bibliography on the use of the term, see Goelet 1999: 24–​25.

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where? For instance, when Khasekhem of the late Second Dynasty controlled a bow-​labeled personification of a tract of land (see section 4.7.3.5) at a time when there is no evidence of a Nubian population living south of the First Cataract, we cannot know if we have a ritual reference to domination of a foreign south or a historical record of a campaign against a rebellion in the south of Egypt. Egypt’s early interactions with neighboring regions also include exploitation of the deserts. Rock inscriptions from Dynasty 0 throughout the rest of the period attest to expeditions to the Sinai and the Eastern and Western Deserts, perhaps even the oases. Many kings’ names in these inscriptions are of contended reading, and some inscriptions left by expeditionary officials did not include kings’ names. But the existence of the inscriptions and the introduction of titles for administrators of lands beyond Egypt make clear the regular exploitation of resources from the deserts throughout the Early Dynastic period.22

4.4.  Sources and historiography Critical sources for the Early Dynastic period include texts both contemporary and somewhat later, and archaeological remains. Writing first became extensively used in the Early Dynastic period, and our documentary sources are of great value, but writing was not yet fully developed; the earliest complete sentence written in Egyptian dates to the late Second Dynasty. All inscriptions from this early era are short, and very few are more than labels. Kings’ names are particularly critical sources of evidence; the earliest royal title known to us, which became standardized over the course of the period covered in this chapter, is the Horus name of the king. It was written in a device called a serekh, which consists of a building with a niched facade usually topped by a falcon representing the god Horus.23 Some additional titles of kingship were added over

22. For a thorough discussion of the currently known evidence for expeditions see Hamilton 2016. 23. For an overview of the multiple interpretations of the early development of the serekh see Jiménez-​Serrano 2003.

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the course of the Early Dynastic period, and when we encounter names other than the Horus name, we are not always certain to which Horus king they belong.24 The issue is so acute that it contributes to our near-​ total inability to speak of the history of the mid-​Second Dynasty. The readings of names at this period are often contentious; this chapter follows the conventions currently standard in English and only exceptionally discusses the names themselves. While it is possible in most cases to read the words left on inscriptions from this period, we are less certain of their contextual meaning, and there is a real danger of teleologically interpreting inscriptions of various sorts. For instance, a persistent problem in understanding the nature of divine worship and its relationship to kingship derives in part from uncertainties in reading gods’ names and in part because archaeological evidence from available early temples shows regional variation and only loose contacts with the royal state at all.25 Likewise, titles—​a minefield even in periods better represented in the textual record—​are deeply problematic for the Early Dynastic period and lead to real difficulty in understanding elite relations to kingship and administration. For instance, that there appears to have been the title “vizier” in the late First Dynasty does not mean that the office already existed in the way we know it later.26 Written sources contemporary to the Early Dynastic period include tomb steles with names and sometimes titles; seal impressions; ink inscriptions on pottery; carved tags of wood, ivory, or bone that were attached to other objects and commodities, particularly vessels filled with oil; bowls of stone and metal with inscriptions; and rock inscriptions. No records on papyrus are left to us, but it is probable that recording on this medium was already being done, since two blank rolls of prepared papyrus are known from a tomb at Saqqara. There are almost

24. Wilkinson 1999: 171–​177 gives an overview of royal titles developed during this period. For an example see Kahl 2006: 102–​103. 25. Bussmann 2011. 26. Engel 2013: 32 with n. 91.

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no extant monumental building inscriptions; this reflects the fact that construction of the period was in brick, not stone. The available building inscriptions date to the end of the Second Dynasty and are on stone elements of brick buildings. A unique inscribed object, the Narmer Palette, is of an artifact type that belongs to the preceding period. Its images and inscriptions, however, make it a thoroughly First Dynasty artifact—​a fittingly transitional document for a transitional king. This object, which occupies a prominent but troubled place in the reconstruction of Early Dynastic history and our understanding of “history” in Egyptian records at all, is addressed in the discussion of Narmer’s reign below (section 4.7.2.1). Particular inscriptions are referenced frequently in the historical outline that follows, but two are of critical importance even to an overview of sources. From the site of the royal tombs of the First Dynasty there are two seal impressions, from different points of the dynasty, that list in order the kings who are buried there.27 These are important not only for suggesting the order of kings, which is one reason the succession of the First Dynasty is more secure than that of the Second, but also for giving us a sense of how kingship itself and the commemoration of royal ancestors were understood at the time. Both lists begin with Narmer, making his inclusion in our understanding of the First Dynasty reasonable—​in fact, making it reasonable to apply the concept of a dynasty to the period.28 The first list, presumably from the middle of the dynasty, includes the king’s mother who it is believed reigned for a young son (see figure 4.2). The second list omits her. Together they show both the remarkable stability and flexibility of the young institution of monarchy, which could allow for a woman to play that role and be recognized as playing it, and the sanitization of historical records to present an idealized succession for commemorative purposes. Finally, one particular later written source is of critical importance for the history of the Early Dynastic period. The Palermo Stone and

27. Dreyer 1987: 33–​43, fig. 3; Dreyer et al. 1996: 72, fig. 26. 28. Cervelló-​Autuori  2008.

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Figure  4.2.  King-​list on a necropolis seal impression from Umm el-​Qaab, Abydos, mid-​First Dynasty. From left to right the names given are Khentimentiu (the god of the Abydos necropolis), Horus Narmer, Horus Aha, Horus Djer, Horus Djet, Horus Den, and King’s Mother Merneith. After Dreyer 1987: fig. 3.

associated fragments preserve a record of royal annals that gives not only the succession of kings and their dates of accession but also events that characterized each year of their reigns. The record seems to have been made on the basis of contemporary records and is usually accepted as largely reliable, with the major caveat that it was intended for use in the ideologically charged context of a temple rather than as an accurate historical recording according to modern perspectives.29 Events recorded were both particular, such as the dedication of cult images, and repeated, such as festivals. Of particular importance for the Early Dynastic period is the biennial Following of Horus, which is interpreted as a procession of the king (Horus) and his court (Followers) throughout Egypt for the purposes of royal display and gathering of taxes/​tribute. The royal annals are referred to frequently below. Archaeological evidence critical to understanding the history of the Early Dynastic period comes from both settlements and mortuary contexts but is heavily weighted toward the mortuary, both because of preservation and because that has been the traditional focus of Egyptological inquiry.

29. For a translation with commentary and bibliography see Wilkinson 2000.

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Settlement sites have been particularly investigated in the delta,30 though Hierakonpolis and Elephantine in the south also have critical remains from the period. No major break can be seen in settlement sites in the delta during the period of state formation. The site of Buto illustrates both how important and how complicated it is to bring archaeological and inscribed evidence together. Buto and festivals related to it appear prominently in Early Dynastic inscriptions,31 and a large, labyrinthine complex dated to the period has been excavated at the site. Some elements of the building and the presence of seal impressions suggest administrative activities, but the precise nature of the building and its relation to the state are not known. Similar questions arise at other settlement sites. A monumental niched gateway at Hierakonpolis reeks of kingship without letting us know what it really meant, but its form and the fact that there are seal impressions from the buildings inside it again suggest a link to the king.32 State involvement with fortification at Elephantine seems likely, but reconstructing the relationship between kings and local people here is not simple.33 Even without understanding precisely the state’s role in settlements at this time, an increasing move toward urbanization is one of the hallmarks of the era, and administrative activity in some of the centers strongly suggests state ties.34 Mortuary inquiries have focused on the royal tombs and on those of the high elite. Both underwent substantial changes over the course of this period, with the most notable change being the introduction of massive tombs in the very early First Dynasty, including the bench-​shaped mastaba superstructures for the high elite. The tombs of the kings and high elite are present at only a few sites. These tombs and associated cult structures provide the majority of our evidence for the period as a whole, both in and of themselves and because they are the context in which the

30. For a recent survey see Jucha and Mączyńska 2011. 31. Hartung 2007; Begon 2015. 32. Moeller 2016: 96–​103 (with references). 33. Kaiser et al. 1993; Ziermann 2003. 34. Moeller 2016: 71–​109.

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vast majority of our inscribed evidence from the period has been found. Tracing shifts in burial practice is one way of accessing changes in kingship over this period. The kings of Dynasty 0 and the First Dynasty were buried at Abydos at a part of the site today called Umm el-​Qaab.35 This cemetery was already ancient by the time of the Early Dynastic period, and its history undoubtedly was an important factor for the kings of the new state when choosing where to be buried. The landscape of the site is also significant; far from the floodplain and the settlement site, the cemetery was marked by the cliffs of the Western Desert and a wadi that breaks them. From the early First Dynasty reign of Aha on, all of the royal tombs had monumental substructures that included not only storage space for a great deal of material wealth but also subsidiary chambers, most of which appear to have been used for sacrificial burials. This is the only period in which human sacrifice on a large scale appears to have been practiced in Egypt. The first kings of the Second Dynasty moved the royal necropolis to Saqqara.36 Two of their tombs are known; they have the form of extensive networks of subterranean, rock-​cut chambers but no apparent provision for human sacrifice. The final two kings of the Second Dynasty returned to Umm el-​Qaab at Abydos for their tombs but did not revive the practice of subsidiary burial. In addition to tombs, the Early Dynastic kings built related cult structures of a type somewhat inaccurately called funerary enclosures.37 These large, unroofed, rectangular buildings appear to have been used for royal ceremonies and the dedication of offering cult for the king, but probably during his life rather than after his death. The earliest known such monument probably dates to the reign of Narmer, though the similarity

35. For a synthetic discussion with references to excavation reports see O’Connor 2009: 137–​57. The recent re-​excavations of the tombs at Umm el-​Qaab have been published by Dreyer and collaborators in a number of preliminary reports in the journal MDAIK and in the monograph series Umm el-​Qaab. 36. Kaiser 1994. 37. For overviews of the function and archaeological history of funerary enclosures see Bestock 2008; O’Connor 2009: 159–​181.

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of the building type to the royal serekh might suggest that earlier kings who had serekhs also had funerary enclosures. Those of the First Dynasty are built at Abydos near the ancient townsite, some distance away from the associated tombs. They are also ringed with sacrificial graves, in one case of donkeys rather than people; in another case, a fleet of buried boats was provided. The First Dynasty enclosures were ritually destroyed early in their use-​life, perhaps “killed” like those who surrounded them, to accompany the king in death. It is not known if the early Second Dynasty kings built funerary enclosures of this sort—​enigmatic rectangular enclosures at Saqqara are difficult to date precisely38—​but the final kings of that dynasty, who returned the royal necropolis to Abydos, constructed enclosures much like those of their predecessors. Monumental elite tombs of the Early Dynastic period are known from a handful of sites, almost all of them near Memphis.39 The two best-​known such sites are Saqqara and Helwan, the first the location of the most massive of the tombs and the second the location with the most tombs. At Saqqara the earliest of the massive mastaba tombs dates to the reign of Aha. The most monumental such mastabas from the First Dynasty line the escarpment at the north of Saqqara; they have niched facades, were richly provisioned, have provided a wealth of inscribed material, and are frequently accompanied by subsidiary graves not unlike the royal tombs at Abydos.40 These tombs are generally regarded in current scholarship as having belonged to the most elite members of the court and administration, but the attribution is not uncontentious, and this rich source of evidence is also one of our most problematic. The various interpretations of the elite Saqqara tombs are discussed below (section 4.5). Graves of the same date but smaller in size are present elsewhere at the site.

38. Stadelmann 1985. 39. For an overview of Early Dynastic Memphite cemeteries see Jeffreys and Tavares 1994. 40. Emery 1949; 1954; 1958.

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Helwan and some of the other Memphite cemeteries appear to have been in use somewhat before the start of the First Dynasty. While only a few mastabas of similar size and opulence to those on the Saqqara escarpment are known from other sites, most of these cemeteries had a mix of tombs of varying status, including some that were quite large; even subsidiary graves and boat burials are known from some tombs at these sites. Helwan in particular is critical for our understanding of early Memphis, as it seems to have served as the principal necropolis for the city. Excavations in the middle of the twentieth century uncovered more than ten thousand graves,41 and more recent and intensive work has been undertaken by Köhler.42 The nature and abundance of elite and nonelite cemeteries in the Memphite region is good evidence for a stratified, complex, urban population that had already come to considerable prominence prior to the First Dynasty and was closely linked to kingship from the very start of that period. What is not clear is how and when Memphis the city became the “capital” of Egypt. Later tradition records both that Memphis was founded by Menes, the semimythical first king of the First Dynasty, and that the capital of Egypt in the First and Second Dynasties was Thinis, near Abydos. Both strains of thought are presumably much too simple to explain the relationship between city and state in the Early Dynastic period. Memphis itself is almost unknown archaeologically, Thinis has not been definitively located on the ground, and no examples of early palaces are available;43 the location of the main residence of the king, if that is how a capital might be identified, is unknown. However, the necropoleis make the early importance of Memphis to administration clear: people with high titles were buried here, or at the king’s own tomb, and nowhere else. And much like the creation of a territorial Egyptian state ruled by a king who was the incarnation of the god Horus, the

41. Saad 1969. 42. Köhler  2003. 43. Although this identification is far from certain, a potential Early Dynastic palace with a niched facade has been discovered at Hierakonpolis: Weeks 1971–​1972; Friedman and Bussmann 2018.

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coalescence of a center of power at Memphis seems to have been a process with long roots but a very pronounced turning point in the late fourth millennium, with continued processes of development thereafter. Just as important as the concentration and variety of tombs in the Memphite region is the absence of major elite tombs from the first two dynasties outside of this area. With the exception of a large mastaba from the very early First Dynasty at Naqada and the royal tombs at Abydos itself, there is no indication from the cemetery record of growing local seats of power, not even at those sites that exhibit increasing urbanization and state involvement in administration. The relationship between the king and prominent people in the provinces is one of interest to every period of Egyptian history. In the Early Dynastic period, elite power seems to have been much more closely concentrated in the king and the Memphite region than in personal territorial power bases, and even as administration and ceremonial involvement with the provinces increased, it was not immediately accompanied by expressions of elite power in the mortuary realm.

4.5.  History of scholarship The invention of the Early Dynastic period as a historical construct has roots in both ancient Egypt itself and modern scholarship. Egyptian record keepers, even those contemporary to the period, appear to have seen its beginning and perhaps its end as significant turning points, based on texts and monuments. That Narmer’s name is the first on the Umm el-​ Qaab seal impression king-​lists and that Aha was the first to construct a monumental tomb—​which every Egyptian king who could for the next two millennia did, but which no king before had done—​are clear indications that substantial shifts that were understood to be substantial at the time were in play. The end of the period, if placed as usual at the end of the Second Dynasty, is also distinctive: the introduction of the stone pyramid was, and once more was understood to be, a significant break. Later ancient Egyptians continued to see the formative period as critical. This is clear from the legendary status of the unifier Menes, from the structure of later king-​lists, and from engagement with Abydos.

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That site in general and the location of the First Dynasty kings’ burials in particular became of enormous importance to later Egyptians, who associated the site with the burial of the god Osiris—​mythologically the linchpin between the divine creation of the world and the coming to the throne of Horus, of whom all human kings were incarnations. The tomb of king Djer was renovated and taken to be the actual burial place of Osiris, with the objects removed from it ritually redeposited in the surrounding area.44 An annual ritual procession took place between temple and tomb, and the private “pilgrimage to Abydos” became a common motif in tomb decoration. Multiple later kings returned to the site to build monuments, even occasionally tombs. All three of these strands of later Egyptian reverence for the people, places, and events of the Early Dynastic period can be seen drawn together in a temple commissioned by the Nineteenth Dynasty king Sety I; located at Abydos, it includes a king-​list that starts with the reign of Menes.45 The uncomfortable methodological relationship between history and archaeology and the tendency to seek neat linear explanations of political development that is to some degree conditioned by the Egyptians’ own way of processing historical events have deeply affected scholarship of the Early Dynastic period. When first “discovered” archaeologically by Egyptologists, the distinctness of the beginning of the First Dynasty in particular led to questions about its origins. It seemed to represent such an abrupt invention of all that was characteristic of pharaonic Egypt that it was often assumed to have arrived from outside, by means of an invasion by a “master race.”46 As both shifting theoretical models and new archaeological discoveries have made this an untenable interpretation, the tendency has been in the other direction. It is now recognized that

44. Müller  2006. 45. O’Connor 2009 discusses the many-​layered history of Abydos and how its later importance built upon the Early Dynastic uses of the site. 46. For example, Engelbach 1943; Emery 1952; 1961: 38; Derry 1956.

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however dynamic and rapid the developments at the end of the fourth millennium were, many had earlier roots.47 Beyond the controversial discussion of its origins, one of the key twentieth-​century disagreements about the Early Dynastic period centered around the actual location of the royal burials of the First Dynasty. When the monumental tombs with subsidiary graves at Abydos were excavated, it was unquestioned that these were the burials of kings. However, the discovery of the massive and rich Saqqara mastabas called this into doubt. The Saqqara tombs had an abundance of objects bearing royal names; their superstructures were large and had niched facades, which look so much like the royal serekh; and the area covered by individual tombs was larger than that of the substructure of individual tombs at Abydos. Emery, who excavated the Saqqara mastabas, proposed that they were the real royal tombs and the Abydos monuments mere cenotaphs.48 While it is now largely accepted that the Abydos tombs are real royal tombs, the very fact that the question arose is of significance for our understanding of the period, and there is still disagreement about what the Saqqara mastabas represent.49 How can it be that at a time absolutely defined by the presence of strong centralized kingship and an exclusive relationship between kings and big buildings, there are monuments that are ambiguous in their ownership? What does this ambiguity tell us about the relationship between the symbolism and practice of power at this time? The Early Dynastic period is one of the most intensively researched in Egyptology today, with constant discoveries and discussions that continue to change, sometimes dramatically, our interpretations. For two decades there has been a recurring international conference series, Egypt

47. This has been argued particularly with regard to iconography. For an overview, see Hendrickx 2011. For caution about reading backward with regard to pharaonic iconography, see Bestock 2017: 14–​84. 48. Emery  1961. 49. The debate did not end with the millennium; see, for example, Cervelló-​Autuori 2002: 27–​61; Morris 2007a; Hendrickx 2008: 60–​88.

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at Its Origins, dedicated to dissemination of new finds and ideas.50 Other indications of the role this period plays in current Egyptological scholarship, and the enthusiasm it generates, can be seen in the specialized journal Archéo-​Nil; a recent major exhibit dedicated to the period at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New  York;51 the radiocarbon studies previously referenced; and the meticulously maintained website Late Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt, run by Francesco Raffaele, an unparalleled resource for scholars writing on the period.52

4.6.  Administration and the royal family As scholars have broadened their questions, the more practical aspects of running Egypt have joined the symbolic and ceremonial facets of kingship being considered. Administration is known to us principally in terms of the control of commodities and the creation of royal estates; titles are another important source for understanding different offices but are more difficult to interpret. Seal impressions, inscriptions on ceramics, and tags are our most critical bearers of information in this regard, and of particular importance is that all were already used well before the First Dynasty. While a major intensification in administration is thus apparent—​the development of new titles and institutions, for instance, and the growth in size of the scribal class, particularly in the First Dynasty—​the basic notion of controlling goods moving over long distances by means of labeling grew from an earlier precedent.53 “Tax marks” on cylindrical ceramic vessels are well-​attested from the reigns of Iry-​Hor in Dynasty 0 through the middle of the First Dynasty and show that commodities were being collected and labeled in terms of origin and king. “Taxation” is a problematic concept, and in fact a variety

50. Hendrickx et  al. 2004; Midant-​Reynes et  al. 2008; Friedman and Fiske 2011; Adams et al. 2016; Midant-​Reynes et al. 2017. 51. Patch 2011. 52. Raffaele  2001–​. 53. Regulski 2008a.

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of words are used for deliveries of commodities, pointing to a complex system.54 Analysis of handwriting in these inscriptions has demonstrated a large number of scribes at work in the registry of these vessels and their contents.55 The tags that are such an important source of information about royal events in the First Dynasty were also intended to label commodities. Not just commodities and locations, but also institutions and individuals, are frequently mentioned in the epigraphic sources related to administration. Among the most important institutions were the royal domains founded to provision royal burials; these are known from the reign of Djer on. In some cases the domains seem to have lasted at least a generation beyond the death of the king who founded them.56 The people of the administration are harder to document than the control of goods, despite the presence of private names and titles. This difficulty is in part due to the ambiguities surrounding elite tombs of the era but also owes much to a curious absence of records of family relations. We do not know, for instance, if the administrators of the era were members of the king’s own family, a point of significance for understanding later Egyptian bureaucracy.57 The traditional assumption that the royal family itself was constituted to marry south to north, with kings of southern origin taking northern wives as a matter of policy, is difficult to support.58 It has been suggested on the basis of the names of a few royal women that include crossed arrows, usually read as a symbol of the goddess Neith, who certainly in later periods was emblematic of Lower Egypt. However, it has recently been pointed out that the reading of this divine name is doubtful and

54. Kahl 1995. 55. Regulski 2008b. 56. Engel 2013: 28–​30. 57. Engel 2013: 36–​37. 58. Wilkinson 1999.

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that in many cases it would be better read as Hemuset—​a much more enigmatic divine principle with no set geographic association.59

4.7. Historical outline As noted previously, our sources permit a reliable reconstruction of the order of kings and some of the events of their reigns for much of the Early Dynastic period. The Egyptian understanding of the ideological role of kingship, which resulted in king-​lists that presented the succession as orderly and kingship as monolithic, seems to have already been in place in the First Dynasty, making the records possibly neater than the reality. The following reign-​by-​reign outline of kings gives an overview of the evidence for each ruler who is well enough attested to be spoken of with confidence, focusing on building projects and inscriptions that can be assigned to individual kings. The discussion of inscriptions is not exhaustive but is rather meant to highlight events in particular reigns, issues of change over time, and conflict and territorial control.

4.7.1 Dynasty 0 The line of kings prior to the First Dynasty was not included in later king-​lists and has no agreed upon beginning point. Indeed, it is not certain that it was a single line at all or that its earlier rulers controlled great amounts of territory. The term “Dynasty 0” is thus a loose one, and the muddle is produced by attempting to define such a time of transition by using political designations rather than cultural ones.60 Reconstruction

59. Almansa-​Villatoro  2019. 60. The Early Dynastic period falls within the period defined as the Naqada III in terms of material culture. For a review of the end of the Naqada Period and some of the problems associated with mixing cultural and political designations for time periods see Köhler et al. 2011.

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of royal names is a subject of debate,61 and many kings are attested only very poorly. The earliest use of serekhs was even anonymous, meaning that one can speak of that fundamental sign of kingship prior to being able to name individual kings with certainty.62 However, in the couple of generations preceding Narmer one does seem to find kings with legible names, recognizable tombs at Abydos, multiple attestations outside of Abydos, and a systematic means of gathering and labeling goods, and one may thus speak of a dynasty with somewhat more confidence.

4.7.1.1  Iry-​Hor The name conventionally read as Iry-​Hor is written with a Horus falcon grasping the mouth hieroglyph r, without the surrounding building with a niched facade usually featured in the serekh. This name is well-​attested at Umm el-​Qaab at Abydos, having been found on more than twenty ceramic vessels both incised and in ink and on seal impressions. A tomb consisting of two separate chambers, the larger measuring some 3.5 × 6 m, can be associated with him on the basis of a concentration of these inscribed objects.63 Among the ink inscriptions is a “tax mark” with a papyrus plant that would, at least somewhat later, be associated with the delta (see section 4.3). One seal impression with Iry-​Hor’s name on it was found at the site of Zawyet el-​Aryan near Memphis.64 In addition, an inscription of Iry-​Hor was recently discovered in the south Sinai at Wadi ‘Ameyra, a site that had previously been used for rock art. Iry-​Hor’s name is above a boat and below the name of the city Memphis. This not only provides support for his existence but also strongly argues in favor of his presence in, and perhaps even control over, some parts of the north

61. The number of royal names in the period prior to the First Dynasty that can be read with confidence is a matter of debate; see Kahl 2003:  116–​118 (with references). 62. For the chronological development of early serekhs see Kaiser and Dreyer 1982: fig. 14. 63. Kaiser and Dreyer 1982: 230–​236. 64. Dunham 1978: pl. 16b.

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and east, as well as the existence and importance of Memphis already at this date.65

4.7.1.2 Ka Ka is the first king to combine the writing of his name with the fully developed serekh. The tomb of Ka is near and similar to that of Iry-​Hor at Umm el-​Qaab, consisting again of two brick-​lined chambers and a wealth of attestations of his name on ceramics.66 “Tax marks” with papyrus as well as those with sedge plants are present in this corpus, indicating that one basic method of acquiring and marking goods with differentiated origins that would remain standard through the middle of the First Dynasty was in use during his reign. Ka is particularly well-​attested outside of Abydos, with inscriptions on ceramics known from Adaima in the south, the Memphite cemeteries Helwan and Tarkhan, and Tell Ibrahim Awad and Kafr Hassan Dawood in the delta and east of it, respectively.67 Ka may also be represented at Wadi ‘Ameyra in the south Sinai, where a partly destroyed serekh over a boat seems most likely to be his.68 4.7.1.3 Scorpion A royal object without a serekh that clearly dates to later Dynasty 0 is the Scorpion Macehead. Excavated at Hierakonpolis, this ceremonial object has relief decoration that can be supposed to date very close to the time of Narmer because of both style and iconography. The label beside the figure of the White Crown–​wearing king consists of a scorpion and a rosette, a symbol of kingship that is present for only a very limited time in the generations before the First Dynasty.69 No tomb is yet known for this king. Definitive attributions of Scorpion are very scarce, and his

65. Tallet and Laisney 2012: 385–​387, fig. 9. 66. Kaiser and Dreyer 1982: 236–​239. 67. Raffaele 2001–​, s.v. “The Dynasty 0.” 68. Tallet and Laisney 2012: 384–​385, fig. 8. 69. Anselin  2005.

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identity is debated in scholarship. He may represent a royal line parallel to the Abydos kings that utilized a shared symbolic vocabulary, he may be an otherwise ill-​attested member of the Abydos line, or the inscription may be an alternate name for a Horus king known elsewhere.70

4.7.2  The First Dynasty Beginning with the reign of Narmer, the First Dynasty consists of eight kings and one regnant king’s mother. All are buried at Umm el-​Qaab, Abydos. While the names, tombs, and order of the entire dynasty are known, the rulers of its first half are substantially better represented archaeologically and often textually than those of its later half. This may be due in part to preservation of evidence—​for instance, no funerary enclosure can definitely be attributed to any ruler of the First Dynasty later than Merneith, but it seems highly likely that every king built one—​ but may also be a feature of the length of kings’ reigns, which seem for the most part to have been shorter in the latter part of the dynasty.71

4.7.2.1 Narmer Narmer is best known to us from the decorated siltstone palette inscribed with his name and images found in a secondary context at Hierakonpolis. The Narmer Palette (see figure 4.3), which was probably originally a cult object at the temple at that site, is of critical importance for our understanding of early royal ideology, of uncertain importance for our understanding of early royal history, and a spectacular work of art that highlights the reign as transitional. The palette includes the earliest known fully developed smiting scene, a critical icon of royal power for the rest of pharaonic history. It shows the king in separate

70. Wilkinson 1999:  56–​57. A  possible rock-​carved tableau from this period is known in the Western Desert near Aswan, but it might equally date to the reign of Narmer and does not clarify the relationship of these kings: Hendrickx et al. 2012. See also Dreyer 1992. 71. Dee et al. 2014.

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Figure  4.3.  Narmer Palette, from Hierakonpolis, with its scenes of royal domination and ceremony. Art Colletion 2 /​Alamy Stock Photo.

scenes wearing both the White and Red Crowns, and its references to violence, both ritual and perhaps military, are usually read as statements about the subjugation of the north, as labeled by a personification of a papyrus-​growing tract of land. For much of its history, the palette was regarded as a straightforward record of Narmer, king of Upper Egypt, showing him conquering Lower Egypt and thus becoming the first king of Upper and Lower Egypt. While this reading is now rare, there is still little consensus on precisely how to treat this important artifact. What one can say with confidence on the basis of the Narmer Palette is that in his reign an ideology of kingship that included both military and ritual violence, as well as control over the papyrus-​lands, was displayed in a cultic context, using for the first time fully developed pharaonic conventions of art. The tomb thought to belong to Narmer is not much of a departure from those of his predecessors. It has two subterranean chambers, B17 and B18, lined with brick walls and located in Cemetery B at Umm el-​ Qaab, Abydos. The somewhat larger of the chambers covers an area of

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approximately 7 × 6 m, with a depth of over 2 m.72 Two postholes in the smaller chamber may be the remains of support for a roof or part of an interior wooden lining to the tomb. The tomb is much like two slightly earlier tombs in this cemetery, also double-​chambered, which are attributed to kings Ka and Iry-​Hor. A recently discovered funerary enclosure at Abydos may have been built during Narmer’s reign.73 While no royal name has been found in association with this enclosure, its specific location, architectural details, and related artifacts are best interpreted as belonging to this reign. If this is the case, the apparent relationship between the serekh and the royal cult enclosures would be strengthened and, significantly, the first really monumental royal constructions would have been enclosures rather than tombs. Inscribed artifacts of Narmer other than his palette also indicate his transitional role. He has a decorated macehead that has few real parallels but belongs to the corpus of relief-​decorated ceremonial objects characteristic of the period just prior to the First Dynasty. Nonetheless, its actual imagery is very similar to that on First Dynasty labels. It pictures ritual events, including an image of the king wearing the Red Crown and sitting on a throne inside a pavilion atop a dais. A number of carved ivory objects are also known from the reign of Narmer, of which one is a label that records events of the sort that became common in subsequent reigns. This somewhat broken label has the serekh of Narmer on the right and a record of oil on the bottom. The event commemorated on the label is violent: a personified catfish, the main element of the name of the king, smites a captive. Papyrus growing from the head of the captive is read as referring to the north, and a pot beside the stricken figure is an element of the word Tjehenu, usually read as Libya but in this period not unlikely to be connected to the western delta. As such this seems to record an act of ritual violence, perhaps following a war, against the northwest part of what later would certainly be considered part of Egypt proper.74

72. Grossman and Kaiser 1979. 73. Bestock 2012: 38–​45. 74. Dreyer et al. 1998.

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Narmer is the best-​attested early Egyptian king outside of Egypt proper. The probably colonial expansion of Egypt into the southern Levant is discussed earlier (section 4.3) and dates initially to the reigns immediately preceding Narmer, but his serekh is the most commonly found on objects in the area, being known from Tell es-​Sakan, Tell Arad, Tel Erani, and Nahal Tillah.75 Narmer’s serekh at Wadi ‘Ameyra in the south Sinai is present atop a boat;76 this is like those of his predecessors and unlike those that follow, again pointing to the reign as transitional. Narmer’s name is also found on a rock inscription in the south, at Wadi el-​Gash.77 Most reconstructions of the royal annals assume that the first king recorded on them would have been Aha, but it is possible that Narmer was once there.78 No years of his reign are present in the preserved fragments.

4.7.2.2 Aha Aha’s reign, much like Narmer’s, can be seen as a period of rapid transition, which is why he is the other candidate for first king of the First Dynasty. He is the first king to have commissioned a monumental tomb at Abydos, which is the first tomb that definitely included subsidiary graves; the use of funerary enclosures in his reign was anomalous and thus points to rapid development of this type of monument; and he is the first for whom mastaba tombs for other people are known, including the first of the massive mastabas at Saqqara. He is, however, less well-​ attested outside of Egypt proper than his predecessor had been, and this may represent a contraction of direct Egyptian control of the southern Levant.79

75. Wilkinson 1999: 154; Miroschedji et al. 2001. 76. Tallet and Laisney 2012: 387. 77. Winkler 1938: 10, pl. 11.1; Darnell and Darnell 1997: 71–​72. 78. Wilkinson 2000: 72. 79. Hartung 1994; Sowada 2009: 247.

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Aha’s tomb is directly adjacent to Narmer’s at Umm el-​Qaab, and its basic unit of construction is a subterranean, mud-​brick-​lined, rectangular chamber oriented in the same direction as his predecessors’ tombs. There the similarities end. Aha had three main chambers, all with walls substantially more massive than any earlier tomb. There has been discussion of the purpose of three chambers, but the most recent excavators argue that one was for the king’s burial and the other two for grave goods.80 Traces of roofing over these chambers were preserved, but no superstructure remains. Stretching to the northeast of the main tomb chambers are an additional thirty-​six chambers, not as large or with such thick walls, but of the same essential character as the main tomb. Like the main chambers, they were constructed individually with no shared walls. The largest two of these subsidiary graves are adjacent to the main chambers, and from them comes the only personal name recovered from the group; inscribed on three ivory objects, including a comb, it is frequently thought to belong to a royal woman, though that reading is uncertain.81 While the subsidiary graves were heavily disturbed, objects and human (and animal) remains recovered in and around them allow for considerable reconstruction of their original contents. Large amounts of pottery, stone vessel fragments, seal impressions, and ivory gaming pieces were only some of the objects found. Many ceramic vessels bore ink inscriptions with Aha’s serekh and tribute or taxation notes indicating origins from both Upper and Lower Egypt. Inasmuch as the fragmentary skeletal remains permit reading, the human population of the subsidiary graves seems to have been notably homogeneous, both adult and male. The tombs farthest from the main chambers appear to have held large cats, probably leopards raised in captivity.82 The most usual interpretation of the subsidiary graves of Aha’s tomb is that they were built for elite people and animals sacrificed to accompany the king’s own burial.

80. Kaiser and Dreyer 1982: 219. 81. Bestock 2009: 26. 82. Dreyer 1990: 81–​89; Van Neer et al. 2013.

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Aha’s constructions in North Abydos also represent a departure, though as we are uncertain of the earlier history of funerary enclosures, it is not entirely clear to what degree. Still, his reign saw the construction of three enclosures, whereas no other king is definitively associated with more than one. One of these enclosures is substantially larger than the other two, and the smaller two do not have the usual open space in the northern part of the interior that may have been used for royal ceremonies. As such, it seems likely that Aha commissioned one enclosure for his own cult and two for other people, perhaps those to whom the largest two subsidiary graves at his tomb belonged. Remains of a cult chapel and offerings in the better preserved of the two small enclosures make clear that this function at least was shared. All three of the enclosures have been destroyed down to their lower courses, and the large one and one of the small ones offer some of the best evidence from Abydos that the destruction was intentional, early, and ritual. All three enclosures were surrounded by subsidiary graves structurally similar to those at Aha’s tomb complex at Umm el-​Qaab. Seal impressions and ink inscriptions on pottery with Aha’s serekh from the subsidiary graves make the attribution of all three secure.83 A number of labels are known from the reign of Aha, having been found at both Umm el-​Qaab and Naqada. While they are sometimes simple tags, some cases combine images of events with a label for a commodity. There is disagreement about the precise meaning of the rituals depicted, some of which show boats. One label includes an image of the king’s serekh wielding a mace and preparing to smite a kneeling and possibly bound captive.84 Among the hieroglyphs above this figure is a bow, generally interpreted as labeling the figure as coming from the south (see section 4.3). Much as the first royal tomb to be built on a truly monumental scale belongs to Aha, so too do the first large tombs of anyone other than the king. The only truly huge tomb of the Early Dynastic period to be known

83. Bestock 2009. 84. Petrie 1901: pls. 3.2, 11.1.

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outside of the greater Memphite region dates to the reign of Aha. At Naqada, which had been one of the major Upper Egyptian centers earlier in the Predynastic, is a niched-​facade mastaba with labels and seal impressions of Aha and multiple instances of a name usually read as Neithhotep. This is often thought to be a royal woman’s name, and speculation without much evidence has tried to marry her to either Narmer or Aha.85 Her name is found in a number of other contexts, including on objects from Djer’s tomb and on a rock inscription of his in the Sinai (see section 4.7.2.3). It can be said that Memphis was also further developed during the reign of Aha, if one chooses to consider the introduction of the first of the massive mastabas on the escarpment of Saqqara as evidence of such. Tomb S3357 has a niched-​facade superstructure that contains twenty-​ nine storerooms in which numerous grave goods were found, including ceramics with ink tax inscriptions of Aha, seal impressions with the king’s name, and luxury goods. Only the last two years of a reign that is probably Aha’s are preserved in the royal annals on the Palermo Stone. The last is just a span of time, indicating that six months and seven years of the year elapsed before the end of the reign. The penultimate year probably includes the Following of Horus and certainly includes the creation of a statue of a canine deity.86

4.7.2.3  Djer King Djer is attested in his tomb and funerary enclosure at Abydos and in a large mastaba with numerous inscriptions naming him at Saqqara; inscribed objects with his name have also been found elsewhere at Saqqara and at Helwan and Tura. In addition, a rock inscription of Djer is known from the south Sinai. Some events of his reign can tentatively be suggested on the basis of inscriptions on labels, though their readings are uncertain. Djer is also well-​attested in the royal annals and possibly in other rock inscriptions. His reign appears to have been one of 85. The tomb was never properly published and is now lost:  van Wetering 2012; Wilkinson 1999: 31–​32. 86. Wilkinson 2000: 90–​91.

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intensification of trends seen somewhat earlier, including the increased use of subsidiary burials and writing. The tomb of Djer at Umm el-​Qaab was even more heavily disturbed than most of the other royal tombs because of its later identification as the tomb of the god Osiris. The attribution to Djer is made on the grounds of a few objects from the main tomb with the king’s serekh, including, exceptionally, a bracelet of alternating gold and turquoise serekhs still on a snapped-​off arm that was perhaps a piece of the king himself.87 The structure of the tomb is a single, large subterranean chamber that would have had an interior wooden central chamber, with stalls around the outside divided from one another by brick cross-​walls. Even more notable are the number and arrangement of subsidiary graves at Djer’s tomb. The 318 small chambers are found on all sides of the main tomb, with multiple banks of tombs arranged to the northwest. There is an apparent hierarchy of size within these subsidiary graves, with the largest located closest to the main tomb chamber. Unlike at Aha’s tomb, these subsidiary graves are built with shared walls; the mode of construction was essentially to dig trenches, line their long sides with mud-​brick walls, then subdivide the space by building cross-​walls. Roofing such graves could not have happened individually, and this form of construction is thus one of the strongest reasons to suggest that the people interred in the graves were sacrificed. Numerous, often high-​quality objects were found in association with Djer’s subsidiary graves, including multiple ivory objects with the serekh of the king. Of particular note are the large number of limestone steles, relatively crude in their carving, that appear to record names and in three cases perhaps titles, presumably of people buried in these tombs. Some 85 percent of the nearly one hundred known steles bear women’s names, as shown by seated female determinatives, and two of the titles belonged to women. While their specific roles and possible familial connection to the king cannot be reliably reconstructed, the generally elite nature of

87. Petrie 1901: 16–​19.

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the occupants of the subsidiary graves and the presence of women among the high elite are clear.88 The funerary enclosure of Djer in North Abydos is not well preserved as a monument, but traces of it have been found, and the rectangle of subsidiary graves that surrounded it has been excavated. Once more, the number of such grave chambers is remarkable: 269. These were also constructed contiguously and provided with a wealth of goods, including four objects with Djer’s serekh. Steles with names and perhaps titles are again indicative of the status of those buried here; the presence of cylinder seals from these graves should probably be interpreted in the same way.89 Nine years of Djer’s reign are preserved with certainty in the main Cairo fragment of the royal annals; his name is completely preserved in the band above, as is the name of his mother. The Following of Horus is recorded every second year. The creation of images of Anubis (in two different years), Thoth, and two unidentifiable divinities is noted, as is the construction of a building called Companion of the Gods. Of particular note are the “circumambulation of the Two Lands,” a ritual not otherwise attested, and the “smiting of Setjet.” The latter is tantalizing but problematic, both because the attribution of Setjet, probably a place to the northeast, is uncertain, and because it is not clear if the reference is to an actual military campaign or ritual domination.90 A further ten years of the annals on the Palermo Stone itself may record the beginning of Djer’s reign, but as no royal names are preserved for this particular register, the identification is not certain.91 This section preserves the change of reign, and thus the events of the first year—​the uniting of Upper and Lower Egypt and the circumambulating of the walls—​are presumably related to rituals of coronation.92 The Following of Hours is noted every other year from year two onward; also recorded 88. See Martin 2011 for the steles and Müller 2006 for a private name list of some people possibly intended to be interred in the subsidiary graves. 89. Petrie 1925: 3. 90. Wilkinson 2000: 186–​193. 91. See Wilkinson 2000: 90, who has argued that Djer is the king of these years. 92. Wilkinson 2000: 92–​94.

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are a variety of more or less obscure festivals, the construction of a building with the same name as one noted in the annals that certainly describe Djer’s reign, and the dedication of multiple divine images. Both the certain annals records of Djer and those that may be attributed to his reign note the Two Lands as distinct entities that are bound by royal action. A wooden label with three registers and a range of scenes and inscriptions dated to the reign of Djer was found at Saqqara. It has been variously interpreted and serves best as a reminder of how problematic even the more extensive written documents of the Early Dynastic period are for historians. The top register has the serekh of Djer on the left. Facing it is a procession of five figures, all carrying things, one of which is anthropoid and one of which appears to be the catfish that is the principal element of Narmer’s name. An inscription in the upper right has the emblematic plants of Upper and Lower Egypt and tops a scene wherein two figures face one another; this is closely analogous to an inscription and scene from a label of Aha. This register has been understood—​to note extremes rather than to present the full range of interpretations—​to represent human sacrifice or the passing on of the royal soul from Narmer to subsequent generations.93 On the whole it seems safest to regard the label as depicting ritual events of unknown specific action or meaning. The same is probably true for additional labels known from Djer’s reign. A label from Umm el-​Qaab with four registers of inscription and depiction, again with Djer’s serekh in the upper left corner, includes a possible reference to a royal visit to the north.94 A  very similar label, really a variant of the same, is also known from Saqqara.95 Another label from the royal tomb names a royal estate or fortress. A recently discovered inscription that includes Djer’s serekh was pecked into the rock face in the Wadi ‘Ameyra in the south Sinai.96 The inscription of Djer is the first instance of the smiting scene to be carved

93. Morris 2007b: 20–​21; Ohshiro 2009. 94. Wilkinson 1999: 73; Amélineau 1904: pl. XV.19. 95. Quibell 1923: pl. XI.2–​3. 96. Tallet and Laisney 2012.

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in the landscape, a combination of icon and context that would continue to be critical throughout the Old Kingdom.97 The smiting scene is not quite the canonical image known already, for instance, from the Narmer Palette. It shows the king’s serekh with an upraised mace preparing to hit an anthropomorphic male figure who faces away from him.98 Adjacent to the serekh is the name Neithhotep, which is principally associated with the monumental mastaba at Naqada dated to the reign of Aha (see section 4.7.2.2). If this names the same person, it would appear that she lived into the reign of Aha’s successor. A further rock carving, this one at the site of Gebel Sheikh Suleiman in Nubia, has on occasion been attributed to Djer and taken as evidence for military campaigns to the south. The dating and meaning of the tableau are too insecure to allow for their confident use in writing the history of the First Dynasty.99 A recent radiocarbon study of the First Dynasty discovered a surprisingly long interval between the accession dates of Djer and the next king to be buried at Umm el-​Qaab, Djet. The span is calculated at 57–​ 126 years (68 percent certainty) or 24–​168 years (95 percent certainty).100 As noted by the authors of that study, this indicates a very long reign by Djer, that evidence of a king between these two is missing, or even that there was a break in kingship itself. While the length of Djer’s reign must thus remain speculative, the reminder that the succession may have been less neat than what is observed in the records is salient.

4.7.2.4  Djet Djet’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab is not unlike that of Djer, though its 174 subsidiary graves are a notable decrease. From the tomb complex comes one of the masterpieces of Early Dynastic art: the king’s own stele, with

97. Bestock 2017: 175–​193. 98. Tallet and Laisney 2012: 388. 99. Which certainly has not stopped people from trying; for example, Arkell 1950; Murnane 1987; Somaglino and Tallet 2015. 100. Dee et al. 2014.

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his name in an exquisitely carved serekh. While the craftsmanship of this object distinguishes it from the private steles, the fundamental principle of a stone marker bearing a name and title from a tomb is the same and once more indicates the high status of the people interred in the subsidiary graves. Sixteen graves from Djet’s complex had names of individuals painted on their interior subterranean walls, indicating that at least in some cases the provision of the name may have been of more significance to the occupant of the grave himself than to an audience of living visitors.101 Djet’s probable funerary enclosure at Abydos is known only from the rectangle of graves around it. Some 154 tombs, most built contiguously in trenches, though the construction is not entirely regular, contained a moderate amount of skeletal and artifactual material despite plundering. A number of steles, as well as three artifacts inscribed with the serekh of Djet, are known.102 Four very large mastabas from the Memphite area are attributable to the reign of Djet. Two of these are at Tarkhan, one just south of Giza, and one at Saqqara.103 Saqqara tomb S3504 is larger than the mastabas of the previous reigns at the site. It has a massive subterranean substructure in which the burial and numerous grave goods were accommodated. The superstructure, with forty-​five magazines built into it, had the characteristic niching pattern on its facade and the unusual addition of a set of three hundred modeled bovine heads, sculpted in mud but with real cow horns, on a bench surrounding the mastaba. An enclosure wall separated the tomb from the sixty-​two subsidiary graves that ring it on all four sides. For the first time at Saqqara, these are built in the same manner as the contemporary subsidiary graves around royal monuments at Abydos, and thus the same argument about sacrificial burial applies here, as well as to the mastaba near Giza. The size, opulence, niched facade, presence of numerous artifacts inscribed with the name of the king, and

101. Petrie 1900. 102. Petrie 1925. 103. For Tarkhan: Grajetzki 2008; for Giza: Petrie 1907; for Saqqara: Emery 1954.

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use of sacrificial burials all point to such a close connection with the king that it is easy to see why the principal excavator of the Saqqara mastabas presumed it to be the tomb of the king himself.104 While it is more probable that the actual interment was of an extremely high-​ranking member of the court and presumably administration, perhaps Sekhemka-​Sedj whose name follows the serekh of Djet on an ivory wand from the tomb, the monument can be read as subordinating the individual buried there to the celebration of kingship itself. This impression is strengthened given the absence of name steles, which are present at Abydos both for Djet himself and those in his subsidiary graves. Labels from Djet’s reign introduce the year sign for the first time and in many cases adopt a new format of vertical rather than horizontal registers. Two elaborate labels, one from Saqqara mastaba S3504 and the other unprovenanced but possibly from the same tomb, include a rectangular device with images that—​by analogy to later consistent iconography—​ can be read as indicating Upper and Lower Egyptian shrines and goddesses. One goddess is represented by a vulture, the other by the Red Crown. Another significant label is arranged in horizontal registers and shows the king’s serekh smiting a captive in the top register. The captive appears to be labeled by a bow; this is yet another of the problematic geographic references that we would like to read with certainty as indicative of the south, which in later inscriptions would be called Ta-​Seti and would be represented with a bow. The middle register has a building that may represent a fortress or domain. The bottom register records a quantity of oil as originating from Upper Egypt. Djet’s name is not preserved in the royal annals, though it is possible but uncertain that the beginning of the preserved part of the third row on the Palermo Stone dates to his reign.

104. Emery 1961: 71: “It is almost impossible to imagine that a nobleman, no matter how great, should have a tomb far superior to that of his master; for the monument is nearly twice as large as the tomb at Abydos.”

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4.7.2.5  Merneith A woman with the name most usually read Merneith held the title “king’s mother” and was provided with a tomb with subsidiary graves at Umm el-​Qaab and with a funerary enclosure, likewise with subsidiary graves, at Abydos. No one other than kings had these types of monuments. Furthermore, the importance of the title is clear; while no other king’s mother is known to us from contemporary documents, there are two preserved cases in the Early Dynastic section of the royal annals in which the name of the king is followed by the name of his mother, and it may have been a standard part of a king’s own identification. On the mid-​dynasty necropolis seal from Abydos that gives a king-​list, Merneith is situated between Djet and Den. The usual assumption is that she was the wife of Djet and mother of Den and that she served as regent for the latter, though the possibility that she reigned more directly has also been raised.105 The tomb of Merneith is among those of other First Dynasty rulers at Umm el-​Qaab. The main chamber of the tomb is slightly larger than that of Djet, and the side galleries used by both of her predecessors are here more formal rooms with extremely thick walls. A large amount of pottery was found in these rooms.106 Merneith has two steles with her name of the sort known from other royal tombs, though hers lack serekhs. Her tomb has a smaller number of subsidiary graves than those of her predecessors or successor, and those graves are arranged with less hierarchy than is typically the case. Only three steles are associated with these graves, none for women and none that include a title. Merneith probably constructed a funerary enclosure at North Abydos as her predecessors had done. A rectangle delineated on three sides by rows of subsidiary graves, of which seventy-​nine remain though others may have been lost, is associated with portions of niched walls. The finds from these graves were uniformly poor when compared to other subsidiary graves at enclosures, and the attribution to Merneith is

105. Roth 1997. 106. Petrie 1900: 11, pl. LXI.

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made on the basis of a single jar inscription.107 This enclosure lies immediately adjacent to that of Djet. Merneith is not well-​attested outside of Abydos, though her name is present on a small number of objects from Saqqara, including seal impressions that feature what looks like a serekh of Merneith with the “Neith” symbol on top rather than Horus.108 No labels of the sort that are known for every other ruler of the First Dynasty are inscribed with her name. On balance, it seems likely that she played a formal and recognized role as regent, but that this was understood as different than being a king. If the rituals and other events that are usually recorded on labels happened under her watch, they were presumably labeled as occurring during the reign of the one for whom she was regent. She was, as already noted, not present on the necropolis seal king-​list from the end of the First Dynasty and is not mentioned in later records. Nonetheless, her monuments and their indication of her probable role suggest the strength and flexibility of the monarchy already in the First Dynasty.

4.7.2.6  Den The reign of Den is often taken as a turning point in the First Dynasty, a time of innovation and change that shows that the processes of state formation were still very dynamic. He is better attested than any other ruler of the dynasty. Innovations include changes to the royal tomb that were quickly copied in non-​royal settings, the addition of a new title of kingship, and possibly the first combination of the Red and White Crowns to form the Double Crown. A number of elite tombs dated to his reign further point to the period as one of wealth. The end of “tax marks” on pottery, the probable creation of the nome system for administering the provinces of Egypt, and the first attestation of a treasury department also mark substantial changes in administration.109

107. Petrie 1925: 1; Bestock 2009: 48. 108. Emery 1954: fig. 205–​206; 1961: 65–​66, fig. 28. 109. Engel 2013: 31.

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Figure 4.4.  Den’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab, Abydos. The main tomb chamber is in the center, while the tops of the subsidiary graves can be seen in the foreground. Photograph courtesy of Campbell Price.

Den’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab (see figure 4.4) preserves key features of earlier royal tombs—​a subterranean massive main chamber, subsidiary graves, location—​but includes innovations in structure and arrangement, as well as some new elements. The main chamber is the largest known from Abydos and was entered for the first time by a staircase, which would have allowed the tomb’s construction to be completed prior to the burial; this became a feature in elite tombs as well. Furthermore, part of the chamber was lined in red granite, the first major use of stone known in Egyptian architecture.110 An additional innovation was the provision for the first well-​attested statue associated with a tomb; both substantial fragments of the statue and the chamber that held it have been recovered.111 The tomb complex as a whole is much more tightly centralized around the main chamber, without the ranks of subsidiary graves reaching off into the distance that had been built for previous

110. Petrie 1900: 11. 111. Dreyer 1990: 77–​78.

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kings. The number of such chambers is nonetheless large (135), and the number of titles on the steles associated with them is notable. No funerary enclosure at Abydos can be assigned to Den on the basis of inscribed artifacts. It is possible that the “Western Mastaba,” an anonymous enclosure near the one attributed to Merneith, may be his, though its relatively small size would require explanation given the importance of this king and his innovative and large tomb. Fourteen boat graves were found beside the “Western Mastaba”; these perhaps can be seen as the subsidiary graves for the enclosure, which has no others, though the relationship is not clear. The lack of inscribed grave goods with human burials is the reason the “Western Mastaba” remains anonymous. It is also possible that Den had an enclosure at Abydos that simply has not been found yet; the area is disturbed, and all of the likely later First Dynasty monuments are missing. The intriguing but unprovable suggestion that Den had this type of monument at Saqqara has been put forward on the basis of a rectangle of graves dated to his reign at that site, some distance away from the elite mastabas of the period, but they are arranged quite differently than the rows of subsidiary graves at Abydos, and their meaning is uncertain.112 A larger number of labels is known from Den’s reign than from any other of the Early Dynastic period. The great majority come from his tomb at Abydos, and they include references to royal rituals and other events not all of which are attested earlier. Ritual royal hippopotamus hunting as a theme is evident, as are festivals and military or ritually violent events. The two best studied labels of Den from Abydos are one with a festival and one with a smiting scene; they are worth highlighting especially for their apparent reference to military action and royal ceremonial. The festival label has a number of key elements. The year is named by at least two events; the top one is a festival in which the king is pictured twice, once running a race and once sitting on a throne atop a dais in a pavilion. In the pavilion he wears the Double Crown, as is also the case on another of his labels from Abydos. The combination 112. Morris 2007b.

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of the enthronement and race-​running scenes is usually interpreted as representing a sed-​festival, a ceremony of royal rejuvenation that is well-​ attested from later periods and is also likely noted on objects of other Early Dynastic kings. In this case the scene is not captioned as belonging to that particular festival, and there is some danger of conflating distinct festivals with similar rituals.113 Below the festival with running and enthronement is a register with various elements, the clearest of which is an inscription referring to the opening (breaching) of a fortified place.114 The left side of the label includes the king’s serekh and the name and title—​royal seal bearer—​of an official who is also attested at Saqqara, Hemaka. Additional elements include the royal palace and the golden oil press building, as well as the commodity the label itself is assumed to have labeled: highest quality oil from Tjehenu. “Opening the fortified place” on the festival label is usually regarded as a record of a military action, and similar attestations are present on several other labels of Den’s reign, with at least two different types or specific locations of fortification mentioned. The second label, with a smiting scene, does not show a fortification but rather depicts the more ritual slaughter of an enemy that might have followed actual battles and was unquestionably an important iconographic indication of royal power. On this label—​ which presumably accompanied a set of sandals, since there is a depiction of footwear on its reverse—​the king strides with a mace raised toward his captive in a sandy, hilly landscape. The king wears a uraeus-​serpent on his brow, the first attestation of that motif that would be so strongly tied to Egyptian kingship for the rest of pharaonic history, and is labeled by his serekh in front of his head. A divine standard and an inscription, which is usually translated as “first time of smiting the east,” are to the right. Den’s claim to control over the southern Sinai is attested by two rock inscriptions with smiting scenes at the Wadi el-​Humur, a site not previously used for such inscriptions.115 Den’s monuments are thus both a continuation of the royal practice of inscribing the Sinai and a departure 113. Howley 2020. 114. Helck 1987: 159. 115. Ibrahim and Tallet 2008.

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in claiming a new place, which he does while using an expanded version of the smiting icon. Two panels preserve three images of the king, in each case smiting a kneeling captive. The king is always labeled by a serekh in front of his face and accompanied by a standard of the god Wepwawet. In the higher panel, the god Ash watches the scene. In all three images there are smaller figures holding staffs or other elements. These figures are labeled and are apparently officials, perhaps suggesting that the monuments were dedicated by expedition leaders on royal missions. Den’s presence in the extant fragments of the royal annals is likely but not certain.116 The years that are probably to be attributed to him are notable in a number of regards. Most strikingly, they do not include the Following of Horus, so well-​attested both before and after this reign, and they do include the mention of a sed-​festival, which is not known from previous reigns. As noted with regard to Den’s label, the early use of this ceremony of royal rejuvenation is somewhat obscure, and scholars have tended to conflate royal rituals. However, even without the annals it is clear that Den held such a festival: a vessel fragment from Umm el-​Qaab that mentions the “second occasion of the sed” and several more fragmentary labels also appear to mention the sed-​festival by name.117 Den’s reign is also characterized by the unusually large number of elite mastabas attributed to it. Not only are there multiple extremely impressive tombs on the escarpment at Saqqara, but also the sites of Abu Rawash, Helwan, and Abusir were used for elite burials.118 Of these tombs, the Saqqara mastaba S3505 is the largest, measuring some 57 × 26 m.119 The subterranean burial chamber was reached by a staircase blocked by stone portcullises that could be slid into place after burial. In it were found objects including vessels, weapons, tools, games, furniture, and a wooden box containing papyrus. Seal impressions and labels are

116. Wilkinson 2000: 103–​104. 117. Dreyer 1990: 80. 118. For Abu Rawash:  Tristant 2017; for Helwan:  Saad 1969; Köhler 2008a; for Abusir: Radwan 2003. 119. Emery 1938.

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inscribed not only with the king’s name, but also with the name of the royal seal bearer, Hemaka, who was also named on the festival label of Den discussed above. This tomb is often thus attributed to Hemaka, who holds titles as the administrator of multiple domains established in the reign of Den. The practice of new domain foundations under administration by high officials would continue throughout the Early Dynastic period.120 Further evidence of administration in the reign of Den comes from titles, including the first attestation of the title that later came to mean “treasurer.” While it seems likely that the person who held this title had the duty of receiving deliveries from estates and elsewhere, it does not seem likely that the great significance later held by the office was already in place.121 This shows both the innovation of Den’s reign and the danger of reading backward from later evidence.

4.7.2.7  Anedjib Anedjib is ill-​attested compared to his predecessors, and it may be that his reign was relatively short, as suggested by the recent radiocarbon study. Entries about his reign are missing in the royal annals. Anedjib’s tomb chamber at Umm el-​Qaab is the smallest there and has only sixty-​ three adjacent subsidiary graves; these are arranged in rows disconnected from the main burial chamber. The only label known from the reign of Anedjib comes from this tomb; it is relatively uninformative despite the inclusion of an ink inscription. No funerary enclosure has yet been found for Anedjib. Stone vessel fragments are the most intriguing hints about events of his reign: two, one from Abydos and one from Saqqara, mention a sed-​festival, and a number of others appear to depict royal statues.122 That an apparently short-​lived king had a sed-​festival should lead us to be cautious in interpreting this ceremony, since it is thought that in later times the sed-​festival was traditionally held first at year 30 of any

120. Wilkinson 1999: 121; Engel 2013. 121. Engel 2013: 32. 122. Wilkinson 1999: 65.

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given reign. Anedjib’s name is present on objects associated with a curious tomb at Saqqara that includes a step-​sided mound over the burial chamber that is concealed within the superstructure of the mastaba.123

4.7.2.8  Semerkhet When Petrie excavated Semerkhet’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab, he found that the entrance ramp leading down to the tomb was filled a meter high with sand so saturated with perfumed oil that the scent pervaded the entire excavation, and his workmen had to cut through the hardened deposit.124 While it is far from certain that this is an original deposit—​it more likely dates to the Ramesside period, when the whole necropolis was a commemorative landscape linked to the burial of Osiris, as it had been already for a millennium—​this evocative find nonetheless reminds us that actions and sensory experience would have been central to this place in the past. Semerkhet’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab looks a bit more like Den’s tomb than Anedjib’s, incorporating sixty-​nine subsidiary chambers that share walls with the main tomb chamber. No funerary enclosure has yet been found for Semerkhet. Several labels of Semerkhet are known; not all of the year “names” on them match up with the events recorded on the royal annals, where Semerkhet’s reign seems to be entirely preserved. The Cairo fragment’s third register has what is likely his name, and the name of his mother, above eight years of entirely ordinary events.125 In his first year he is recorded appearing as the dual king, uniting Upper and Lower Egypt, and circumambulating the wall; these are the usual coronation activities. Thereafter there is a biennial Following of Horus, as well as festivals and the creation of divine images. That labels note different events indicates

123. Emery 1949:  82–​94. Hidden mounds that may be ancestral to pyramids have been found on a number of Early Dynastic tombs, including two royal ones: Dreyer 1991. 124. Petrie 1900: 4. 125. Wilkinson 1999:  193–​201. That the reign was short is also supported by the radiocarbon study: Dee et al. 2014.

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that the convention of naming years did not require that the same names be used in all contexts.126 No objects bearing Semerkhet’s name are known from North Saqqara, and this is one thread in the argument against the massive mastabas having been the tombs of kings.

4.7.2.9 Qa’a Qa’a’s tomb at Umm el-​Qaab is similar in size and arrangement to that of his predecessor; it had a complex building history but only twenty-​six subsidiary graves.127 This appears to represent the petering out of this practice, which is not known in its sacrificial form later than this reign, though at various periods in Egyptian history physical closeness between the tomb of the king and of his court would be significant. A royal stele from Qa’a’s tomb is well preserved; it was unusually discovered in what its excavator thought to be close to its original position, at ground level on the east side of the tomb. A number of artifacts found immediately adjacent to it included alabaster and diorite bowls, one of which had an inscription of the “priest of the temple of king Qa’a”;128 this may indicate cultic offerings to the king at the place where his stele marked his tomb. No funerary enclosure has yet been found for Qa’a; while a later monument at Abydos has sometimes been thought to be one, this has been disproved.129 A single year that probably belongs to Qa’a is preserved on the main Cairo fragment of the royal annals. His name is absent, but it is highly probable that the preceding records belong to Semerkhet (see section 4.7.2.8 ) and quite certain that Qa’a followed Semerkhet in royal lists. The entry is entirely standard for a first-​year entry, recording the appearance of the dual king, the uniting of Upper and Lower Egypt, and the circumambulating of the walls.

126. Engel 2013: 36. 127. Engel 2017. 128. Petrie 1900: 6, 15. 129. Bestock 2009: 51.

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Figure 4.5.  Label of Qa’a, with the year named by royal events. The names of the king, as well as references to institutions and oil, are all present. Photograph courtesy of Eva Engel and Deutsches Archäologisches Institut.

Numerous labels of Qa’a are known (see figure 4.5), predominantly with references to festivals including the Following of Horus.130 In addition, inscribed bowl fragments preserve records of events, including two sed-​festivals.131 Qa’a is represented in two rock inscriptions in wadis near Elkab, in the far south of Egypt, both of which include his serekh and an image of the vulture goddess Nekhbet. These may be records of expeditions to acquire resources. Unlike the somewhat earlier Sinai inscriptions, there are no smiting scenes here, perhaps because this location was

130. For instance, Engel 2017: 322–​323, fig. 213. 131. Lacau and Lauer 1959: 12.

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not as contested as the Sinai. Further rock inscriptions of Qa’a in the Theban Western Desert show engagement with Predynastic imagery already in that location.132 An administrator named Merka from Qa’a’s reign is known from a tomb stele at Saqqara.133 He holds more titles than any other single individual in the Early Dynastic period, many of which tie him closely to the king and some of which, such as “follower of the king” and “controller of the royal bark,” presumably suggest that he was a member of the biennial Following of Horus.134 Merka plays a role in the difficulties of attribution and understanding of the Saqqara mastabas as a whole. His stele clearly marks him as among the most elite of the elite, but there is some ongoing debate as to whether the stele belongs to the large mastaba S3505 itself or to the subsidiary grave of that mastaba beside which it was found.135 The end of the First Dynasty has recently been clarified to some degree. The discovery of a number of seal impressions from the tomb of Qa’a that had been rolled with cylinder seals naming Hetepsekhemwy of the early Second Dynasty argues for a recognized and coherent succession across the transition between dynasties.136 This had previously not been so clear, not only because of the substantial break in tradition with the abandonment of Abydos as the royal necropolis, but also due to royal names that cause confusion. Vessel fragments from insecure contexts at Saqqara preserve two Horus names of kings not otherwise attested; the inscriptions and vessels seem to date to the late First Dynasty and have caused speculation about internal problems that could have led to the shift in dynasties.137 Whether these serekhs represent ephemeral kings or simply alternate names of kings otherwise attested, the probability

132. Darnell 2011: 1161–​1186. 133. Emery 1958: pl. 39. 134. Wilkinson 1999: 149. 135. Martin 2008. 136. Dreyer et al. 1996: 71–​72, fig. 25, pl. 14a. 137. Wilkinson 1999: 69.

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of major disruption is lessened by the discovery of the Hetepsekhemwy sealings in the tomb of Qa’a.

4.7.3  The Second Dynasty The royal succession of the Second Dynasty is not as secure as that of the First Dynasty, in no small part because the early kings of this period chose to be buried at Saqqara rather than Abydos, and their tombs and associated equipment are not as well preserved. The shift to Saqqara, along with the abandonment of the use of subsidiary burials and perhaps changes in the way royal names referenced the divine, argue for a profound reimagining of some of the basic concepts of kingship as they had been developed during the First Dynasty.138 The end of the practice of year-​labels suggests concomitant changes in administration. Only two early Second Dynasty royal tomb substructures can be identified with even a vestige of confidence, but it is reasonable to think that the first three kings of the dynasty were all buried at Saqqara. A sort of miniature king-​list can be found as a “tattoo” on the shoulder of a statue of a priest from Memphis.139 This gives the names of the early kings of the dynasty in order as Hetepsekhemwy, Raneb (or Nebra—​the reading is contested and the distinction significant), and Nynetjer. It is possible that the substructures of one or more Second Dynasty tombs were incorporated into the complex underground passageways and magazines associated with the Third Dynasty Step Pyramid complex at Saqqara. A great wealth of Early Dynastic stone vessels, many inscribed with kings’ names, was excavated in these chambers. Even more difficult to trace than royal tombs are cultic structures. Two possible Second Dynasty enclosures are known at Saqqara, but both are enigmatic and of uncertain date.140 The middle of the Second Dynasty is even more shadowy; we are not certain how many kings there were and have no monuments to connect

138. Kahl 2007b: 61. 139. Fischer 1961: 46, fig. 1; Cervelló-​Autuori 2008. 140. Stadelmann 1985; Reader 2017 (with references).

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to them. A  small handful of royal names—​often not Horus names in serekhs but other parts of the growing titulary of kings—​is attested from a small number of contemporary objects,141 and later king-​lists confuse rather than clarify the picture. Attempts to reconstruct civil unrest and territorial division, with some of these ill-​attested kings controlling different parts of Egypt, are built on too little evidence to argue either for or against them. The scanty evidence of this period is not addressed in the following discussion. The end of the dynasty is clearer in the sense that its kings are well-​ attested textually and in the monumental building record. But here, too, there is some confusion. It is likely that two kings took different names at different times in their reigns; the changes possibly relate to unrest and were accompanied by nonstandard serekhs. These two kings were buried at Abydos, where they also built funerary enclosures.

4.7.3.1  Hetepsekhemwy In addition to being known from the priest’s statue at Saqqara and the seal impressions at Umm el-​Qaab, Hetepsekhemwy is attested from a number of seal impressions found in a large tomb substructure at Saqqara that is presumed to be his. The attribution is not secure; his successor’s name was also found on seal impressions here, and the tomb was otherwise virtually empty.142 The tomb, which is tunneled out of the bedrock limestone of Saqqara, was entered from a pit that led to a sloping passage that was blocked with four portcullises. A main corridor branched into different groups of galleries, ending in a suite of rooms that is usually regarded as a bathroom and latrine. The tomb as a whole, which measures over 100 m in length, is usually regarded as a simulacrum of a palace.143 Changes in administrative practice during the reign of Hetepse­ khemwy are also suggested. Labels, that essential source of evidence

141. Wilkinson 1999: 73–​75 (with references). 142. Helck 1987. 143. Wilkinson 199:  207. The same can be said of Nynetjer’s tomb (see section 4.7.3.3): Lacher 2011a: 539–​541.

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for the First Dynasty, abruptly went out of use; none are known after the reign of Qa’a. That years were still named by events is clear from the royal annals, however. Some event types in that source are the same across the two dynasties, but the first preserved use of a cattle count as a means of assessing Egypt’s (taxable) wealth belongs to the reign of Hetepsekhemwy.

4.7.3.2  Raneb Very little of certain attribution is preserved from the enigmatic reign of Raneb, whose position is nonetheless clear because of the inscribed priest’s statue. His name itself has aroused great interest, as it is the first royal name to include the word Ra—​sun—​which may refer to the celestial object or the god. The name is variously understood to be Raneb, which would mean “[the god] Ra is my Lord,” or Nebra, meaning “Lord of the Sun.” The time at which Ra became a prominent god is a matter of debate, but the closest study of the reign argues in favor of the former reading and the development of a close connection between that god and kingship at this date.144 A stele with the serekh of Raneb was found reused in a secondary context near Memphis; presumably it originated from his burial at Saqqara.145 The precise location of his tomb is unknown, and there is speculation that the tomb attributed to Hetepsekhemwy may in fact be Raneb’s, that Raneb used the older tomb for his burial rather than constructing a separate one, or that the galleries of his tomb were later incorporated into the subterranean parts of the Step Pyramid. Contemporary attestations of Raneb are otherwise limited to the deserts, where he appears to have sent expeditions both to the Sinai and to the Eastern and Western Deserts.146 The recently discovered inscription with his serekh at the Wadi ‘Ameyra in the Sinai is the last at that site and a point of continuity with the by then long-​past Dynasty 0.

144. Kahl 2007b. 145. Fischer 1961. 146. Hamilton 2016.

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4.7.3.3  Nynetjer Nynetjer is the best-​attested of the early Second Dynasty kings, though many instances of his name come from vessels found in reused contexts. The Palermo Stone, where his name is preserved, indicates that he had a long reign, and a gallery tomb at Saqqara is attributed to him without contention. Nynetjer’s subterranean tomb at Saqqara is much like the earlier gallery tomb thought to belong to Hetepsekhemwy, with a pit leading to a sloping passage blocked by portcullis stones prior to arriving at branching galleries tunneled out of bedrock. Once again a suite of apparently domestic appointments suggests that the tomb models a residence. It has been speculated that above the tomb would have been something like a funerary enclosure, with open space reserved for ceremonies and cult buildings.147 The fourth register of the Palermo Stone belongs entirely to Nynetjer, whose serekh is partially preserved. The position of his name over the register suggests that much is missing and that he had a long reign of over thirty years, possibly as many as forty-​five, fifteen of which are preserved. Notable in the annals is the regular combined biennial recurrence of the Following of Horus and the Tjenut, usually understood as a census, sequentially numbered. Alternate years are variously named, including references to a number of festivals, some attested elsewhere and some not. Of particular note is the eighth preserved compartment, reconstructed as belonging to the thirteenth year of Nynetjer. This includes the phrase “hacking up” with reference to two separate places, neither one of which can be securely located geographically, but it has been suggested that at least one of them refers to a place in the north (i.e., Lower Egypt). This is sometimes taken as indication of civil unrest,148 but the question of how political and how ritual any reference to violence against the north was goes back to the reign of Narmer (see section 4.7.2.1).

147. Lacher 2011b. 148. Wilkinson 2000: 125.

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Evidence of the high elite in the reign of Nynetjer comes from tombs at Saqqara, Giza, and Helwan. Only one of these tombs—​the 58 × 33 m mastaba S2302 at Saqqara—​can be reliably associated with a particular named private person, Ruaben. Among his titles is “royal sculptor”; other inscriptions name the royal estate, and multiple inscriptions name both Nynetjer and Ruaben. The structure and location of the tomb are somewhat different than its predecessors of the First Dynasty. It is located just in back of the escarpment at North Saqqara, very near the earlier tombs but not in line with them, which would have been impossible since the escarpment was fully occupied by that time. The substructure of the tomb looks like a royal gallery tomb in smaller scale, with a descending passage blocked by a portcullis leading to rock-​cut galleries that resemble a domestic suite. The mastaba atop it is simpler in design than its First Dynasty predecessors, with a solid construction rather than magazines above ground and a plain facade that has only two niches on the east side.149 This is a grand example of a typical type of Second Dynasty mastaba.

4.7.3.4  Peribsen The number and names of the kings between Nynetjer and Peribsen are uncertain. Peribsen is well-​attested at Abydos, where he built the first royal tomb in generations, for unknown reasons; the evidence that things were not quite carrying on as usual at the end of the Second Dynasty, perhaps as a result of disruptions in its middle, is abundant. Peribsen’s own name is one of the key pieces of evidence: he topped his serekh not with the falcon of Horus but with a canid image of the god Seth. In a later myth, Horus and Seth contended for the throne of Egypt after the death of Osiris. The use of Seth on a serekh is universally assumed to be sign of a shift in the relationship of the divine to kingship and is often thought to indicate political turmoil and even the fracturing of Egypt between north and south. This is likely largely correct, but the danger in taking too literal a view of a titular element and expecting too much continuity with later religious understanding is pointed out by the fact that in later 149. Quibell 1923.

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times Seth’s principal territorial affiliation was with Lower Egypt in the north, while Seth Peribsen is well-​attested only in the south. This is in contrast to his predecessors in the earlier Second Dynasty, who are much better known in the north. The use of Seth on a serekh seems to have been contentious; it appears again in the next reign, but on Peribsen’s grave steles from Abydos the Seth animal was at some point chiseled off and is visible now only in outline. It is not clear that Peribsen was always Peribsen. On the basis of a large number of seal impressions with the royal name Horus Sekhemib, nebty/​nesut-​bity Perenmaat found in Peribsen’s monuments at Abydos, many have argued that Peribsen first held those names. In this case both the affiliation with Seth and the name Peribsen would have been adopted at some point in the middle of his reign. The argument is made based on the location of the seal impressions for this otherwise very ill-​attested king: outside of Peribsen’s monuments at Abydos, Sekhemib’s name is found only on vessel fragments reused in the Step Pyramid and on one seal impression from Elephantine. Nonetheless, it is not unusual for a Second Dynasty king to be ill-​attested and not unknown for seal impressions from multiple reigns to be present in royal monuments of the era, and the association is not universally accepted. Sekhemib might also have been either a predecessor or successor of Peribsen.150 The attribution of the tomb and funerary enclosure at Abydos to Peribsen is not in doubt. In addition to his two steles, previously noted, numerous artifacts bearing his name were found in both places. The tomb is small by the standards of Umm el-​Qaab tombs, principally because it lacks subsidiary graves. The brick-​built substructure consists of a corridor surrounding storage rooms and a central burial chamber; this may, as with the Saqqara royal tombs, represent a domestic space translated into funerary architecture. The funerary enclosure of Peribsen is immediately beside that of Djer and follows much the same plan, though the earlier monument had almost certainly already been destroyed down to its foundations

150. Wilkinson 1999: 90–​91 with citations of those following the different interpretations; see also Raffaele 2001–​, s.v. “Horus Sekhemib Perenmaat.”

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at the time Peribsen ordered his construction. The most notable difference is again the lack of subsidiary graves. Peribsen’s walls are preserved to a greater height than any First Dynasty enclosure, though they are still substantially leveled, and of particular note is the heaping mound of offering vessels and seal impressions that was found just outside the interior cult building of the enclosure. A tantalizing but unfortunately unprovenanced object is a cylinder seal with a cartouche of Peribsen, apparently the first use of that to-​be-​ iconic way of marking some names of the king.151

4.7.3.5 Khasekhem(wy) The best-​attested ruler of the Early Dynastic period, and he whose monuments still stand highest to remind us of the accomplishments of the era, is its last. Khasekhemwy, probably the same king whose name is sometimes rendered Khasekhem, was responsible for a tomb at Umm el-​Qaab, a funerary enclosure in north Abydos that still stands some 10 m high, a similar and similarly preserved but somewhat enigmatic monument at Hierakonpolis, the production of sculpture, the production of stone vessels of breathtaking number and quality, and more. The apparent change between names and the peculiarity of their serekhs—​Khasekhem’s was topped with just Horus but Khasekhemwy’s had Horus and Seth—​are usually taken as indication of serious disruptions in the political and ideological manifestation of kingship in the late Second Dynasty. In combination with the evidence from the preceding reign, the simplest reading is that Peribsen ruled part of a divided or contested Egypt, and that Khasekhemwy put it back together again and oversaw a reign of prosperity and innovation. Inscriptions on multiple objects would seem to support at least the basics of this outline, but caution is always needed: the ideological need of the king to represent himself as unifying Upper and Lower Egypt had by this point centuries of tradition.

151. Raffaele 2001–​, s.v. “Seth (Ash) PERIBSEN/​Nswt-​bity PERIBSEN.”

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With the name Khasekhem, this king is best attested at the site of Hierakonpolis (see figure 4.6). Most of the objects naming him were found in secondary contexts related to the main temple at the site. They include, among other things, two statues, a carved architectural fragment, and inscribed vessels. The statues are the best-​preserved early royal sculpture available. They are very similar, depicting the king in a festival robe seated on a throne and wearing the White Crown. The bases of the statues show a number of dead people, who appear to be labeled as northerners by the presence of papyrus thickets. Both statues include a

Figure  4.6. Statue of Khasekhem, from Hierakonpolis. The king is enthroned and wearing a festival robe. Beneath his feet dead enemies are incised on the statue’s base. Photograph © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

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number, though it is slightly different on the two: 47,209 in one case and 48,205 in the other.152 The architectural fragment has a relief scene and inscription that also appears to reference violence, with the serekh of the king, a statement about action against a foreign land, and a somewhat enigmatic icon that appears to show a personified tract of land. This is labeled by a bow atop its head and is thus taken to represent the south, which appears to be subjugated by a kneeling figure, mostly missing, who is presumed to be the king.153 The imagery of Khasekhem at Hierakonpolis would thus seem to reference violent subjugation of both the north and south, folded into a cultic context that shows a revival of the royal connection to Hierakonpolis in a way that had not been seen since the reign of Narmer. The cultic context and some details of the objects must make us question the records as pure historical recording, but there is no reason to doubt that war was an important part of this king’s reign. A vessel inscribed for Khasekhem and found at Hierakonpolis shows the goddess Nekhbet with a combined symbol and sign for “rebel” clutched in her talon. A Horus falcon wearing the White Crown accompanies a year-​name: “fighting the northern enemy.” This has been read as confirmation of north-​south conflict in this reign.154 In the second form of his name, this king is attested from many places, even as far away as Byblos—​though it is uncertain that the vessel found there with his serekh on it arrived contemporary to his reign. Hierakonpolis remained important; multiple stone building elements from the townsite suggest he was responsible for major constructions there, and a 10 m tall mudbrick structure dated to his reign still dominates the landscape some distance away. This intensely investigated monument is a cultic structure with multiple building phases and has no precise known parallel. The structure is almost square, defined by a massive mud-​brick wall with a niched facade and a narrower encircling wall

152. Bestock 2017: 159–​161. 153. Bestock 2017: 158–​159. 154. Wilkinson 1999: 91.

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around the outside. A single monumental gateway gives access to what seems to have been largely open space inside, though there was a brick structure in the center built in the second phase, and large quantities of pottery that appear to belong to the middle part of Khasekhem(wy)’s reign were found here. Numerous stone fragments indicate that some architectural elements were in stone, and the nearby discovery in a secondary context of a piece from what is probably a lintel likely came from the enclosure. It has a relief image of the king seated in festival robes in a pavilion, with the Horus and Seth serekh of his second name in front of his face. The similarity of this monument to the Abydos funerary enclosures is striking but also far from absolute; while both seem designed to accommodate royal ritual during the life of the king, only the Abydos enclosures were connected to the royal tomb. The Hierakonpolis monument itself, as well as the use of relief carving on stone architectural fragments, shows the innovations in cult under this king.155 But it is at Abydos that Khasekhemwy concentrated the building activities that are still most evident to us. His tomb at Umm el-​Qaab is both large and deep and was built in multiple phases. Originally it seems to have been similar in plan to Peribsen’s, but in its final version it was much longer, with additional storerooms stretching out in two directions. The burial chamber itself was entirely lined in stone. Much of the mud brick in the central portion of the tomb was seriously flattened as if by a great weight from above, and recent excavators have suggested that the cause of this might have been a stone-​revetted superstructure, foreshadowing the change to stone pyramids that shortly followed.156 The funerary enclosure of Khasekhemwy is the only one of that type of monument standing; that it was not destroyed is further evidence of a shift in the practice of royal cult that is so evident in the development of the Step Pyramid complex. The Abydos enclosure covers about twice the area of the Hierakonpolis monument, though its walls are similarly thick and tall. It has a niched facade and the same basic structure and

155. Friedman 1999: 9–​12. 156. Dreyer et al. 2003: 108–​111.

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location of the internal building as its predecessors at Abydos but differs from them in having a perimeter wall and additional gateways. Its interior cult building was more complicated than previous such structures, but it seems to have been used in the same way, judging from the heap of ceramics and seal impressions at its entrance and the remains of organic offerings in its innermost room. Sealings of Netjerikhet—​the king later known as Djoser, of the early Third Dynasty—​have been found at both the tomb and enclosure of Khasekhemwy at Abydos. This suggests a relationship between the Second and Third Dynasties that is much like that between the First and Second: a substantial shift rather than a rupture.157 Khasekhemwy is probably represented on the Palermo Stone, where a king whose name is missing is credited for the creation of a statue called “High Is Khasekhemwy.” Other entries for this king include the biennial Following of Horus and the “building in stone” of a goddess.158 Stone as a building material, including inscribed elements, thus emerges as a theme of this reign.

4.8.  Conclusions: kingship and the Early Dynastic period It is impossible to study the Early Dynastic period without reference to kings and kingship, and its end is the moment right before kingship writes itself onto the landscape with the enduring symbol of the pyramid. It is possible to give an account of kings—​their order, sometimes the length of their reigns, the festivals they celebrated and statues they dedicated, the goods they extracted from their territory and beyond, the administrators they appointed to which offices—​from the late fourth millennium bc. Great changes continued to occur even after the initial generations of state formation, with, for instance, shifts in royal burials, administrative offices, and practices of marking and controlling commodities, but some of the symbols and ceremonies that would endure

157. Dreyer 1998: 31–​34. 158. Wilkinson 2000: 132.

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for millennia were established during the Early Dynastic, and the period seems familiar in a way previous eras do not. While both the documentary and material records related to kingship are critical to defining and understanding the period, it is worth remembering where the impact of kingship is not as visible. Divine cult, aside from those divinities directly associated with kingship itself, seems not yet to have been brought under the control of the state. Our growing knowledge of settlement sites as often as not complicates our historical narrative of the period. There are no provincial seats of power that we can see in the mortuary record, yet for all its size and importance, Memphis was not where most Egyptians lived. How deep the state was and how implicated every Egyptian’s life was in the royal project is not clear, and a study of the Early Dynastic period reminds us that continuity can never be the only narrative when telling the story of ancient Egypt. R ef er en c es Adams, M., Midant-​Reynes, B., Ryan, E. and Tristant, Y. (eds.) 2016. Egypt at its origins 4. Leuven: Peeters. Adams, W.Y. 1985. Doubts about the “lost pharaohs.” JNES 44: 185–​192. Almansa-​Villatoro, M.V. 2019. Renaming the queens: a new reading for the Early Dynastic crossed arrows sign and a religious approach to the Early Dynastic onomastics. SAK 48: 35–​51. Amélineau, É. 1904. Les nouvelles fouilles d’Abydos, 1897–​1898. Paris:  Ernest Leroux. Anselin, A. 2005. Le scorpion et la rosette:  essai de lecture des deux sémogrammes nagadéens. Apuntes de Egiptología 1: 15–​33. Arkell, A. 1950. Varia Sudanica. JEA 36: 24–​40. Begon, M. 2015. La ville de Bouto (Pé) sous la Ire dynastie: étude d’une mention inédite inscrite sur une étiquette méconnue découverte à Abou Rawach (Louvre Inv. AF 11872). Archéo-​Nil 25: 11–​18. Bestock, L. 2008. The Early Dynastic funerary enclosures of Abydos. Archéo-​ Nil 18: 42–​59. Bestock, L. 2009. The development of royal funerary cult at Abydos: two funerary enclosures from the reign of Aha. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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Bestock, L. 2012. Brown University Abydos Project: preliminary report on the first two seasons. JARCE 48: 35–​79. Bestock, L. 2017. Violence and power in ancient Egypt:  images and ideology before the New Kingdom. London: Routledge. Braun, E. 2002. Egypt’s first sojourn in Canaan. In Van den Brink, E.C.M. and Levy, T.E. (eds.), Egypt and the Levant: interrelations from the 4th through the early 3rd millennium bce. London:  Leicester University Press, 173–​189. Bussmann, R. 2011. Local traditions in early Egyptian temples. In Friedman, R. and Fiske, P. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 3. Leuven: Peeters, 747–​762. Cervelló-​ Autuori, J. 2002. Back to the mastaba tombs of the First Dynasty at Saqqara: officials or kings? In Pirelli, R. (ed.), Egyptological essays on state and society. Naples:  Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”,  27–​61. Cervelló-​Autuori, J. 2008. The Thinite “royal lists”:  typology and meaning. In Midant-​Reynes, B. and Tristant, Y. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 2. Leuven: Peeters, 887–​899. Darnell, J.C. 2011. The Wadi of the Horus Qa-​a : a tableau of royal ritual power in the Theban Western Desert. In Friedman, R. and Fiske, P. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 3. Leuven: Peeters, 1151–​1193. Darnell, J.C. and Darnell, D. 1997. Theban Desert Road Survey. In Sumner, W.M. (ed.), The Oriental Institute 1996-​1997 annual report. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 67–​77. Dee, M.W., Wengrow, D., Shortland, A.J., Stevenson, A., Brock, F., and Ramsey, C.B. 2014. Radiocarbon dating and the Naqada relative chronology. JAS 46: 319–​323. Derry, D.E. 1956. The dynastic race in Egypt. JEA 42: 80–​85. Dreyer, G. 1987. Ein Siegel der frühzeitlichen Nekropole von Abydos. MDAIK 43: 33–​43. Dreyer, G. 1990. Umm el-​Qaab:  Nachuntersuchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof, 3./​4. Vorbericht. MDAIK 46: 53–​90. Dreyer, G. 1991. Zur Rekonstruktion der Oberbauten der Königsgräber der 1. Dynastie in Abydos. MDAIK 47: 93–​104. Dreyer, G. 1992. Horus Krokodil, ein Gegenkönig der Dynastie 0. In Friedman, R. and Adams, B. (eds.), The followers of Horus: studies dedicated to Michael Allen Hoffman. Oxford: Oxbow, 259–​264.

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Kaiser, W., Bommas, M., Jaritz, H., Krekeler, A., von Pilgrim, C., Schultz, M., Schmidt-​Schultz, T. and Ziermann, M. 1993. Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine, 19./​20. Grabungsbericht. MDAIK 49: 133–​187. Köhler, E.C. 2003. The new excavations in the Early Dynastic necropolis at Helwan. Archéo-​Nil 13: 17–​28. Köhler, E.C. 2008a. The Helwan cemetery. Archéo-​Nil 18: 113–​130. Köhler, E.C. 2008b. The interaction between and the roles of Upper and Lower Egypt in the formation of the Egyptian state: another review. In Midant-​ Reynes, B. and Tristant, Y. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 2. Leuven: Peeters, 514–​543. Köhler, E.C. 2010. Theories of state formation. In Wendrich, W. (ed.), Egyptian archaeology. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 36–​54. Köhler, E.C., Smythe, J. and Hood, A. 2011. Naqada IIIC–​D—​the end of the Naqada culture? Archéo-​Nil 21: 101–​110. Lacau, P. and Lauer, J.-​P. 1959. Fouilles à Saqqarah:  la pyramide à degrés, IV: inscriptions gravées sur les vases. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Lacher, C.M. 2011a. The tomb of king Ninetjer and its reuse in later periods. In Bárta, M., Coppens, F. and Krejčí, J. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2010. Prague:  Czech Institute of Egyptology, Charles University in Prague, 537–​550. Lacher, C.M. 2011b. The tomb of king Ninetjer at Saqqara. In Friedman, R. and Fiske, P. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 3. Leuven: Peeters, 213–​231. Levy, T.E., Alon, D., Van den Brink, E.C.M., Kansa, E.C. and Yekutieli, Y. 2001. The Protodynastic/​Dynasty 1 Egyptian presence in southern Canaan:  a preliminary report on the 1994 excavations at Nahal Tillah, Israel. In Wolff, S.R. (ed.), Studies in the archaeology of Israel and neighboring lands in memory of Douglas L. Esse. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 411–​446. Martin, G.T. 2008. The stela and grave of Merka in Saqqara North. In Engel, E.-​ M., Müller, V. and Hartung, U. (eds.), Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 463–​476. Martin, G.T. 2011. Umm el-​Qaab, VII: private stelae of the Early Dynastic period from the royal cemetery at Abydos. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Midant-​Reynes, B., Tristant, Y., Rowland, J. and Hendrickx, S. (eds.) 2008. Egypt at its origins 2. Leuven: Peeters.

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Midant-​Reynes, B., Tristant, Y. and Ryan, E. (eds.) 2017. Egypt at its origins 5. Leuven: Peeters. Miroschedji, P. de, Sadeq, M., Faltings, D., Naggiar-​Moliner, L., Sykes N. and Tengberg, M. 2001. Les fouilles de Tell es-​Sakan (Gaza): nouvelles données sur les contacts Égypto-​cananéens aux IVe-​IIIe millénaires. Paléorient 27: 75–​104. Moeller, N. 2016. The archaeology of urbanism in ancient Egypt:  from the Predynastic period to the end of the Middle Kingdom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Morris, E.F. 2007a. On the ownership of the Saqqara mastabas and the allotment of political and ideological power at the dawn of the state. In Hawass, Z. and Richards, J.E. (eds.), The archaeology and art of ancient Egypt:  essays in honor of David B.  O’Connor, vol. 2. Cairo:  Supreme Council of Antiquities, 171–​190. Morris, E.F. 2007b. Sacrifice for the state: First Dynasty royal funerals and the rites at Macramallah’s rectangle. In Laneri, N. (ed.), Performing death: social analyses of funerary traditions in the ancient Near East and Mediterranean. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 15–​37. Müller, V. 2006. Eine frühdynastische Namensliste. In Moers, G., Behlmer, H., Demuß, K. and Widmaier, K. (eds.), jn.t Dr.w: Festschrift für Friedrich Junge. Göttingen: Seminar für Ägyptologie und Koptologie, 467–​479. Murnane, W.J. 1987. The Gebel Sheikh Suleiman monument:  epigraphic remarks. Appendix to Williams, B. and Logan, T.J., The Metropolitan Museum knife handle and aspects of Pharaonic imagery before Narmer. JNES 46: 282–​285. O’Connor, D. 1993. Ancient Nubia:  Egypt’s rival in Africa. Philadelphia: University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania. O’Connor, D. 2009. Abydos:  Egypt’s first pharaohs and the cult of Osiris. London: Thames & Hudson. Ohshiro, M. 2009. Decoding the wooden label of King Djer. GM 221: 57–​64. Patch, D.C. (ed.) 2011. Dawn of Egyptian art. New  York:  Metropolitan Museum of Art. Payne, J.C. 1993. Catalogue of the Predynastic collection in the Ashmolean Museum. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Petrie, F. 1900. The royal tombs of the First Dynasty, I. London:  Egypt Exploration Fund.

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Petrie, F. 1901. The royal tombs of the earliest dynasties, II. London:  Egypt Exploration Fund. Petrie, F. 1907. Gizeh and Rifeh. London:  British School of Archaeology in Egypt. Petrie, F. 1925. Tombs of the courtiers and Oxyrhynkhos. London: Quaritch. Quibell, J.E. 1923. Excavations at Saqqara (1912–​1914):  Archaic mastabas. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Radwan, A. 2003. Some remarks concerning the superstructure of some mastabas at Abusir. In Hawass, Z. and Pinch Brock, L. (eds.), Egyptology at the dawn of the twenty-​first century. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 377–​379. Raffaele, F. 2001–​. Late Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt. Retrieved from http://​www.francescoraffaele.com/​egypt/​index.htm (last accessed July 2018). Ramsey, C.B., Dee, M.W., Rowland, J., Higham, T.H.G., Harris, S.A., Brock, F., Quiles, A., Wild, E.M., Marcus, E.S. and Shortland, A.J. 2010. Radiocarbon-​based chronology for Dynastic Egypt. Science 328: 1554–​1557. Raue, D. 2008. Who was who in Elephantine of the third millennium bc? BMSAES 9: 1–​14. Reader, C. 2017. An Early Dynastic ritual landscape at North Saqqara:  an inheritance from Abydos? JEA 103: 71–​87. Regulski, I. 2008a. The origin of writing in relation to the emergence of the Egyptian state. In Midant-​Reynes, B. and Tristant, Y. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 2. Leuven: Peeters, 985–​1009. Regulski, I. 2008b. Scribes in Early Dynastic Egypt. In Engel, E.-​M., Müller, V. and Hartung, U. (eds.), Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer. Wiesbaden:  Harrassowitz, 581–​611. Roth, S. 1997. Königin, Regentin oder weiblicher König? Zum Verhältnis von Königsideologie und ‘female sovereignty’ in der Frühzeit. In Gundlach, R. and Raedler, C. (eds.), Selbstverständnis und Realität. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 99–​123. Roy, J. 2011. The politics of trade: Egypt and Lower Nubia in the 4th millennium bc. Leiden: Brill. Saad, Z.Y. 1969. The excavations at Helwan. Art and civilization in the First and Second Egyptian Dynasties. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

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Schulman, A.R. 1983. On the dating of the Egyptian seal impressions from ‘En Besor. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 13: 249–​251. Smith, H.S. 1994. The princes of Seyala in Lower Nubia in the Predynastic and Protodynastic periods. In Berger, C., Clerc, G. and Grimal, N. (eds.), Hommages à Jean Leclant, vol. 2. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 361–​376. Somaglino, C. and Tallet, P. 2015. Gebel Sheikh Suleiman:  a First Dynasty relief after all. Archéo-​Nil 25: 122–​134. Sowada, K. 2009. Egypt in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Old Kingdom:  an archaeological perspective. Fribourg:  Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Stadelmann, R. 1985. Die Oberbauten der Königsgräber der 2.  Dynastie in Sakkara. In Posener-​Kriéger, P. (ed.), Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar, vol. 2. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 295–​307. Tallet, P. and Laisney, D. 2012. Iry-​Hor et Narmer au Sud-​Sinaï (Ouadi ‘Ameyra): un complément à la chronologie des expéditions minières égyptiennes. BIFAO 112: 381–​398. Török, L. 2009. Between two worlds:  the frontier region between ancient Nubia and Egypt, 3700 bc–​500 ad. Leiden: Brill. Tristant, Y. 2017. Abu Rawash:  new data from the recent excavation of 1st Dynasty elite mastabas at the Cemetery M. In Midant-​Reynes, B. and Tristant, Y. (eds.), Egypt at its origins 5. Leuven: Peeters, 465–​495. Van Neer, W., De Cupere, B. and Friedman, B. 2013. A leopard in the Predynastic elite cemetery HK6 at Hierakonpolis, Egypt. In De Cupere, B., Linseele, V. and Hamilton-​Dyer, S. (eds.), Archaeozoology of the Near East, X. Leuven: Peeters, 283–​306. Van Wetering, J. 2012. Relocating De Morgan’s royal tomb at Naqada and identifying its occupant. In Kabaciński, J., Chłodnicki, M. and Kobusiewicz, M. (eds.), Prehistory of northeastern Africa:  new ideas and discoveries. Poznań: Poznań Archaeological Museum, 91–​124. Weeks, K.R. 1971–​1972. Preliminary report on the first two seasons at Hierakonpolis: part II, the early Dynastic palace. JARCE 9: 29–​33. Wilkinson, T. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London and New York: Routledge. Wilkinson, T. 2000. Royal annals of ancient Egypt: the Palermo Stone and its associated fragments. London: Kegan Paul International. Williams, B. 1980. The lost pharaohs of Nubia. Archaeology 33: 12–​21.

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Williams, B. 1987. Forebears of Menes in Nubia:  Myth or reality? JNES 46: 15–​26. Winkler, H.A. 1938. Rock-​drawings of southern Upper Egypt: Sir Robert Mond desert expedition, preliminary report. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Yekutieli, Y. 2004. The desert, the sown and the Egyptian colony. ÄL 14: 163–​171. Ziermann, M. 2003. Elephantine XXVIII:  die Baustrukturen der älteren Stadt (Frühzeit und Altes Reich): Grabungen in der Nordoststadt (11.–​16. Kampagne) 1982–​1986. Mainz: Zabern.

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Egypt’s Old Kingdom A View from Within Miroslav Bárta

5.1.  Introduction The Old Kingdom period in Egypt (see figure 5.1) represents the first apogee of one of the earliest fully fledged territorial states.1 Therefore its study, and the analysis of the principles on which it operated—​including the nature of its inner dynamics as well as its ability to adapt to a changing environment—​stand out as one of the major tasks of modern Egyptology and comparative research on civilizations in general. The major aim of this chapter is to provide a general context for what has traditionally been understood as the political history of the Old Kingdom. The bulk of the evidence presented is relevant for a better understanding of the inner dynamics of the first Egyptian state and the individual roles played by the king, the elite, and the majority of the population (see figure 5.2).2 At the same time, in order to arrive at as complete a picture of the period as possible, major fields of evidence such 1. This chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. 2. Scott 2008: 27–​43: elite as a group of administrators holding executive power. Miroslav Bárta, Egypt’s Old Kingdom In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0006.

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Figure  5.1. Sites mentioned in chapter  5. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

as history, archaeology, texts, administration, arts, architecture, religion, iconography, and environmental data must be brought together and connected. These individual spheres have never been mutually exclusive and cannot be separated or isolated from each other. They represent what Samuel Huntington has called the “identity of civilization,” and they traditionally stand for what we today imagine as the Old Kingdom.3 Scrutinizing small details of our evidence, including titles, architectural features, and landscape connotations, can reveal groundbreaking changes and innovations of the period. We see that Old Kingdom Egypt was characterized by many periods of brief but eventful fluctuation, in

3. Huntington 1993: 23.

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Figure 5.2.  Simplified scheme showing the principal components of the Old Kingdom state and its administration, with relationships indicated. Prepared by V. Dulíková.

which the most significant characteristics of society were abruptly transformed and new forms of organization and social stratification emerged. The Old Kingdom has traditionally been defined as the period from the Third through Sixth Dynasties, divided, according to standard scholarship, into four distinct periods, that is, dynasties. Nowadays, in view of the increasing evidence provided principally by archaeology, it is justifiable to extend the Old Kingdom period into the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties, which in many respects, though on a considerably less complex level, maintained the traditions of Old Kingdom statehood in terms of kingship, culture, and administration. The proposed time frame for this wider conception of the Old Kingdom ranges from 2592 to 2120 bc.4 These historical dates are in accord with the available corpus of carbon-​ 14 dates summarized by Andrew J.  Shortland and C.  Bronk Ramsey.5 The accepted chronology of the Old Kingdom period in absolute dates is

4. Hornung, Krauss and Warburton 2006: 490–​491. 5. Bárta 2013a.

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now as follows: Third Dynasty (ca. 2592–​2544 bc); Fourth Dynasty (ca. 2543–​2436 bc); Fifth Dynasty (ca. 2435–​2306 bc); Sixth Dynasty (ca. 2305–​2150 bc); Seventh Dynasty, which probably lasted for only several weeks; and Eighth Dynasty (ca. 2150–​2120 bc).6 This was a period of roughly five centuries during which Egyptian civilization experienced dynamic, nonlinear development that resulted in a fully fledged territorial state with sophisticated institutions supporting a bureaucracy that was headed by the king and the elaborate concepts of religion, kingship, and rule that held this system together. Egypt was not isolated from the rest of the world but a major player in the political affairs of northeastern Africa and the Middle East.7 It was able to organize large-​scale expeditions to secure resources and products from foreign lands, to subjugate such territories (see fi ­ gure 5.3), or to achieve a mixture of both strategies. These five centuries provide a vivid picture of a socially stratified society and its inner development that consisted of several different, yet mutually closely related, constantly interacting spheres. These were dominated by the royal family, the foremost social group, which manifested its exclusive status by isolating itself and demonstrated its power and influence through architecture, inscriptions, iconography, and the use of official titles.8 Next in importance was the constantly growing group of elite and wealthy officials and bureaucrats. These were the real administrators of the country, operating initially from the Residence and the capital of Inbu-​hedj, and from the late Fifth Dynasty onward, also from major centers in the provinces.9 This population remains mostly anonymous, yet it can be observed through archaeological and historical records and the implicit tone of some of the official texts. The interactions among themselves, and between the king and the elite in particular, reveal an incessant interplay and competition for status in which the king

6. This chronology is based on Hornung, Krauss and Warburton 2006. 7. Eichler 1993; Sowada 2009; Regev et al. 2016. 8. Baud  1999. 9. Pardey  1976.

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Figure  5.3a.  “Water Mountain” in the Western Desert of Egypt. It attests to the fact that the Old Kingdom state was able to send out expeditions to far distances and support them logistically. Pictured here are the terrace and the decorated rock face. Photograph by M. Bárta.

set himself off from the rest of the elite, and where order (represented by the king) exploited wealth for legitimacy.10 The elite, on the other hand, never missed an opportunity to improve their symbolic status, especially from the early Fifth Dynasty onward, when the economic wealth of the country was exploited more and more by the growing bureaucratic apparatus. The state had to cope with the twin burden of having to fund its steadily growing expenses and keeping in check the increasing ambitions for independence of its elite administrators and their families. Both at the center and in the provinces, the most powerful officials encroached on formerly exclusive royal privileges, perhaps most prominently when they built mortuary monuments that incorporated many elements that had formerly been associated exclusively with royal funerary complexes for themselves and their families.

10. Baines and Yoffee 1998: 235; Bárta 2013b.

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Figure  5.3b.  Detail:  the highest regnal year so far attested for Khufu, the Year of the 13th Cattle Count. Photograph by M. Bárta.

In parallel to this is evidence for encroaching climate change, which peaked around 2200 bc and had a significant impact on the resilience and performance of ancient Egyptian society. This is an illustration of what makes ancient Egyptian history such a fascinating subject even today: most of its inner dynamics, as well as its specific adaptations to external variables, are no different from those of our modern world and our own fields of experience and perception.11 11. Mitchell 2008; Smith et al. 2012; Bárta 2015a.

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5.2. The sources The Old Kingdom evidence proves beyond any doubt that ancient Egyptians were careful observers of their own “history.” They painstakingly recorded events they considered to be of prominent importance and which, according to them, were central to their understanding of the past and their own history. This is demonstrated by preserved historical sources such as the Palermo Stone, dating to the Fifth Dynasty (probably to the reign of Nyuserra), and the South Saqqara Stone of the Sixth Dynasty (Pepy II), as well as by much later compositions such as the Turin Royal Canon from the reign of Rameses II or the even later transmissions of the work compiled by the Ptolemaic priest Manetho.12 These sources make it clear that the Egyptian elite perceived the major elements of history to be individual royal deeds relating to the construction of king’s palaces, the commissioning of statues of individual gods, royal endowments to different temples across the country, foreign expeditions to collect booty and other products, and the like. Inseparable from these events were records of the heights of the annual Nile floods. These aspects provide a limited glimpse into the nature of kingship as perceived by the Egyptians, or at least by the elite of the day. It was always the king who was the primary mover, in close symbolical interaction with the deities of the Egyptian pantheon, who predictably provided the legitimization and symbolic support that was presupposed by kingship. Therefore, the events and phenomena that were of primary importance were those relating to the king himself and to the divine sphere. The evidence from the reigns of individual Old Kingdom kings also attests to the fact that ancient Egyptians were fully aware of the major turning points in their history, as they often referred to prominent rulers of their past, such as Netjerikhet/​Djoser, Sneferu, Khufu, Nyuserra, and Unas, who were deified and venerated long after they had passed away.13 Seen from our perspective, Old Kingdom history does not emerge as a continuous flow of isolated historical achievements and deeds attained 12. Waddell 1940; Gardiner 1959; Redford 1986; Baud and Dobrev 1995. 13. Wildung 1969; 1977; Altenmüller 1974; Graefe 1990; Haase 2004; Morales 2006.

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by kings. Instead, the picture drawn today is a multifaceted mosaic of processes and events inherent in the society, interrupted by abrupt and complex changes. These processes reveal themselves to us through monumental architecture, historical texts, dozens of non-​royal tombs, and a range of material evidence and artifacts expressing artistic and religious concepts. The inner dynamics of Old Kingdom society were in constant interaction with external factors that significantly contributed to the changing character of the Old Kingdom. As a result, the Old Kingdom period is seen today as a complex, heterogeneous, and dynamic system. Within this era, several major periods can be distinguished, each with its own distinct characteristics in administration, religion, and culture. These periods were heralded by the reigns of several outstanding pharaohs, marked by abrupt changes that were either intentionally introduced or emerged naturally (hence the punctuated equilibria model used throughout the chapter).14 To the Egyptians, history had a twofold nature. First, they conceived of history as a series of cyclical repetitions of symbolic acts of primary importance, such as pious donations to divine temples or the commissioning of divine statues. To this also belonged the annual recording of the Nile flood. These acts all supported the divine nature of the cyclically repeating world, which had to be maintained forever. Second was a linear concept of history, which for the Egyptians consisted of individual historical acts by kings, represented, for example, by different military or mining expeditions, sequences of dynasties, and an emphasis on the reigns of selected kings who had “punctured” the Egyptian past. Cyclical time fulfilled its role as a political manifesto by expressing the divine, eternal, and self-​regenerating status of the society created by the gods. Linear time was used to refer to the mundane world, in which the primary mover was the king.15 Egyptological historiography traditionally recognizes thirty-​ one 16 dynasties. The basic difficulty with the division of historical epochs into dynasties is that the whole concept was not introduced until the 14. Bárta 2015a. 15. Assmann 2011: 195–​212. 16. Assmann 2011: 144–​153 (with details).

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third century bc, during the reigns of Ptolemy I Soter and Ptolemy II Philadelphus. It was synthesized from earlier sources by the historian Manetho, priest of the sun god Ra in Heliopolis.17 In his approach to ancient Egyptian history, Manetho worked with the concept of “ruling houses,” which he used as a tool for setting up a relative chronology of the history of ancient Egypt divided into the dynasties. Manetho did not necessarily define a dynasty on the basis of blood relationships. The principle for Manetho’s concept of dynasties was the location from which they ruled. It is evident that Manetho drew on several historical models, but the one his list most resembles is the Turin Royal Canon. The Turin Royal Canon has been preserved on the reverse of a New Kingdom papyrus that originally recorded the details of a tax collection. The list dates to the Nineteenth Dynasty reign of Rameses II.18 In the section referring to the third millennium bc, which Manetho divided into a total of ten dynasties, the Turin papyrus contains valuable clues to how the Egyptians structured their own past. The author of the list does not introduce any artificial dividing line between Menes, the first king of the First Dynasty, and Unas, the last king of the Fifth Dynasty. This must mean that he considered this era to be more or less continuous, without any significant break. For the Old Kingdom era proper, the column starts with the name of king Netjerikhet (meaning “Of the Divine Body”) rendered in red, which was used throughout the Old Kingdom for the ruler today more commonly known as Djoser. The last listed ruler of the Sixth Dynasty is queen Nitiqret. Her entry is followed by a note that can be interpreted as “seventy kings, who ruled for seventy days,” which is a passing reference to the turbulent circumstances following the Sixth Dynasty. Based on contemporary historical sources, the period following the Sixth Dynasty was marked by the disintegration of the central state and much confusion, instability, and fighting for the succession. Our main contemporary source for third millennium bc history, though fragmentary and laconic, is the Palermo Stone. It provides a

17. For more on Manetho see, for example, Waddell 1940 and Dillery 1999. 18. Gardiner 1959.

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record of historical events related to individual kings of Egypt from the time of the ascension to the Egyptian throne of the first king of the First Dynasty through to the first kings of the Fifth Dynasty, probably as far as Nyuserra. What has survived of the original basalt stele are seven fragments.19 The stone most likely came from one of the Old Kingdom temple complexes, situated on the soil of ancient Memphis lying several hundred meters east of the Saqqara burial ground.20 The recto (front) is divided into six horizontal registers comprised of hieroglyphic text. The text runs from right to left. The first, top register contains a list of Predynastic, Lower Egyptian kings, easily recognized by their Lower Egyptian crown. The following registers contain the names of the kings of the First to Fourth Dynasties. The second register starts with significant events that took place in the last years of the rule of a First Dynasty king, probably Aha or Narmer. The details of Fifth Dynasty kings are then found on the back, verso, of the stone. Entries on the surviving fragments end with the reign of king Neferirkara, the third king of the Fifth Dynasty. It is very important that in addition to the names of kings and heights of the annual flood, the names of other members of the royal family can be found here. These include the mothers of kings, who played a powerful role in ancient Egyptian history, especially in matters of succession. Unfortunately there are missing fragments, and it is not certain whether the record ended with king Neferirkara or had continued further. The South Saqqara Stone is another major contemporary source of evidence that can be used in reconstructing Old Kingdom history.21 Similar in nature to the Palermo Stone, it is considerably later, falling into the reign of Pepy II. It includes entries for the reigns of Teti, Userkara, Pepy I, Merenra, and Pepy II. Unfortunately it was repurposed shortly after that time for the sarcophagus lid of Ankhnespepy I, consort

19. It is believed that these fragments were originally part of a large stele with a width of 2.1 m and a height of 0.6 m. 20. For more on the Palermo Stone see especially Wilkinson 2000(with earlier literature). 21. It is a single block of basalt measuring 2.43 × 0.92 × 0.2 m: Baud and Dobrev 1995.

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of Pepy I.  The South Saqqara Stone is important in several respects. First, it includes a complete list of the Sixth Dynasty kings, including the ephemeral Userkara. Second, the details concerning annual or biannual cattle counts enable us to estimate the probable length of the individual reigns:  Teti minimum twelve years, Userkara two to four years, Pepy I  forty-​nine to fifty years, and Merenra eleven to thirteen years. Another significant feature is that for all of the kings listed, the names of their mothers are also given (not their fathers, who were obviously their predecessors on the throne). This is also the case on the Palermo Stone. Therefore it seems quite probable that during the Old Kingdom the queen mother played a significant role in the competition for the throne and the succession.22 Implicit confirmation of this practice is also indicated by the last composition contained in the Papyrus Westcar, which tells the story of Rededjet, who gave birth to the first three kings of the Fifth Dynasty under divine circumstances. Rededjet was the wife of the sun priest Rawosre, and she occupies a central position in the story.23

5.3.  Environmental constraints and cyclical Nile floods The Old Kingdom, like Egyptian civilization in general, was subject to environmental constraints represented above all by the annual Nile floods. These were carefully recorded, as they determined the country’s yearly crop production. The river’s power was the backbone of the ancient Egyptian economy and critical for its success or failure. The environmental history of the Holocene shows clearly that several sudden climatic events took place at more or less regular intervals and had a profound impact on contemporary societies. These events are called Bond events, and two of them, Bond event 5.9 and 4.2 ka BP (Bond events 4 and 3), can be directly related to events in Egypt during the third millennium. They largely influenced, or even determined, specific forms of

22. Baud and Dobrev 1995: 55–​58. 23. Lepper 2008 (with earlier references).

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adaptation in Egyptian society around 3000 and 2200 bc. The first event was a “climatic optimum,” which led to the rise of the Egyptian state. The second event was characterized by a long spell of drought, which brought about a deep and abrupt loss of complexity within the societies that spanned from northeast Africa to the Middle East. In Egypt, these events were experienced, above all, in the annual floods, which were first fruitful and led to a high agricultural output. The end of the period saw a drop in annual flood levels, resulting in very low agricultural yields, with far-​reaching consequences.24 The American Egyptologist Barbara Bell was the first modern scholar to draw attention to the Palermo Stone’s potential for analyzing the individual entries on the Nile floods.25 The oldest preserved entry dates to the First Dynasty king Djer; the last one is from the early Fifth Dynasty reign of Sahura. The data include a total of seventy-​two floods—​that is, seventy-​two years for which the annual height of the flood had been recorded. This means that less than 13 percent of the anticipated records for the entire period are known. A significant number of entries fall into the First Dynasty:  thirty-​ four. The Second Dynasty features thirteen entries, and fourteen entries fall within the period of the Third Dynasty. On the other hand, only six entries have been preserved for the Fourth Dynasty and five for the Fifth Dynasty. Within individual dynasties, the data are once again concentrated within the regnal periods of just a few kings: flood heights are documented for twelve different years during Djer’s rule, during Anedjib’s rule for as many as thirteen, and thirteen for Nynetjer. As for the most famous kings of the Old Kingdom, five entries have been preserved from Netjerikhet/​Djoser’s time, four from Sneferu’s and two from Khufu’s. The average inundation, judging from the entries preserved on the Palermo Stone, was approximately 2.04 m.

24. A number of more recent studies (with references to earlier scholarship) offer assessments that differ in detail: Bond et al. 1997; Moeller 2005; Moreno 2015; Bárta 2015b; Weiss 2017. 25. Bell 1970 is the first comprehensive study, followed by, for example, Hassan 1981; Seidlmayer 2001; Stanley, Krom, Cliff and Woodward 2003; Bunbury 2010.

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Recent environmental studies confirm the dynamism of the river Nile during the Holocene, with six main phases of significant fluctuation and a clear tendency toward a decline in flood levels.26 As for the Old Kingdom–​related phase, dating from 2800 to 2450 bc, there is a strong record for the systematic decline in the flood heights.27 These environmental data have also been confirmed by a “settlement drift,” which has been documented on the island of Elephantine through archaeological excavations. The First Dynasty settlement on Elephantine does not descend below 96 m above sea level. As early as the Second Dynasty, the fortification structures begin to occupy levels at 94.00–​94.50 m above sea level. This suggests that long-​term seasonal floods could reach some 92.00–​92.50 m above sea level. The continuing movement of the settlement into lower locations can be charted during the course of the Old Kingdom. By the end of the Old Kingdom, the settlement was as low as 90.80–​91.30 m above sea level. This evidence suggests that seasonal floods were becoming extremely low compared to previous periods. Similar circumstantial evidence has also been attested from the Old Kingdom pyramid fields in Abusir and Saqqara. In the case of Abusir, several species of beetles prove that the surrounding area was largely dry, and saline during the reign of Pepy I.28 There are indications that in Abusir and Saqqara, longer spells of drought alternated with torrential rain, the evidence for which can be found in some of the late Old Kingdom burial shafts located west of the Step pyramid of Netjerikhet/​ Djoser. According to the authors of these analyses, the extreme rainfall by the end of the Old Kingdom during the Sixth Dynasty was caused by the North Atlantic Oscillation (NAO).29

26. Macklin et al. 2015. 27. Macklin et al. 2015: 5. 28. Bárta and Bezděk 2008. 29. Cílek et al. 2012; Welc and Marks 2013.

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5.4.  The competition for status Rank, social status, and administrative titles, as direct reflections of legitimacy and power, played a principal role in Egyptian society from predynastic times. The competition among the elite for status and its resultant power and wealth is reflected in the monumental architecture and in the arts and texts of the Old Kingdom.30 This competition involved two permanently opposed and rival parties: the king and his family on one side, and non-​royal members of the elite on the other (see figure 5.4). The king was constantly exploring specific ways of demonstrating his exclusive status and of distinguishing himself from the members of the ever-​expanding circle of elite administrators.31 The latter, on the other hand, constantly sought ways to appropriate the emblems of royal status. Almost from the moment a new symbolic manifestation of the power and superiority of kingship was born, its exclusivity began to be eroded, as officials and dignitaries rushed to adapt it for themselves. This in turn led to the appearance of new symbolic expressions of the exclusivity of kingship. On the one hand was the king’s relentless quest for royal exclusivity, and on the other was the unceasing ambition on the part of the elite to enhance their status by emulating the king and appropriating the representations of royalty and legitimacy. This perennial relativization of symbolic status and protocol led to the constant evolution of kingship and represented one of the most powerful instruments in shaping the Old Kingdom and, in fact, all of ancient Egyptian history.

5.4.1 Pyramid complexes The pyramid complexes, as specific architectural representations of ultimate power and dominance, played a very special role in this competition. Pyramid complexes are one of the outstanding features of Old Kingdom kingship. Beginning with the stone-​built complex of king 30. Bárta 2016b. 31. Bárta 2016b.

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Figure 5.4.  Relief from Kaninisut I’s tomb in Giza showing his household; late Fourth/​early Fifth Dynasty (G 2155). The dignitary Wehemka was in charge of Kaninisut’s household, which included eleven scribes and six overseers or controllers, among them Perinedju, the administrator of fabrics; Seshemu, the overseer of fragrances; Merinetjerukhufu, controller of the scrolls; Tjenti and Niankhhathor, the controllers of the halls; and Perisen, keeper of the seal. The household also included three butchers, two bakers, a cook, and a total of five servants in charge of beverages as well another fifteen servants without job titles. In total, forty-​three people worked under the supervision of Wehemka. Reproduced from Junker 1934: fig. 18.

Netjerikhet/​Djoser at Saqqara through to the Pepy II complex in South Saqqara, they reflect many profound changes that took place during this period. The magnitude of the pyramids, the scale of their reliefs, and the size of their storage areas are most revealing in this respect.32 Measured by their ground plans, the largest pyramids were constructed at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty—​the side of the base of the Meidum Pyramid of Sneferu measured 144 m in length and that of the Red Pyramid 220 m. This trend reached its apogee with Sneferu’s son Khufu’s pyramid in Giza, which measures 230.4 m, and the Pyramid of Khafra at 215.5 m. Userkaf, at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, commissioned a considerably smaller pyramid with a side length of 73.3 m. Most of the Fifth Dynasty pyramids had bases with sides measuring 78 m

32. For example, Edwards 1985; Stadelmann 1985; 1990; Verner 2001; Lehner and Hawass 2017. For the concept of the architecture of power see Rheidt and Schwander 2004.

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long. So while the size of a king’s pyramid was of dominant importance during the Fourth Dynasty, it began to shrink from Menkaura’s reign onward. The opposite trend can be seen in the reliefs that covered the pyramid walls. While the pyramids diminished in size, the emphasis on the symbolic role of pyramid complexes and their decoration grew. Sneferu’s mortuary complex in Dahshur had approximately 64 running m of decoration, Khufu’s had 100 m, and Userkaf ’s had 120 m. The decorative program of Sahura’s complex suddenly increased to 370 m. This tendency took on greater importance during the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties. That the pyramids grew smaller while at the same time relief decoration increased in size was the consequence of several factors. First of all, resources were becoming more and more limited as time went by. Another factor may have been the quality of bedrock available in the vicinity of Memphis, which was completely unfit for pyramids on the Giza scale. Last but not least, while in the Fourth Dynasty the sheer impact of the built volume of the pyramid was most significant, from the late Fourth Dynasty onward, the symbolic and religious aspects of kingship, as communicated through reliefs and inscriptions, came into focus. This shift from simple monumentality to elaborate symbolical forms and finely articulated expressions is reflected in contemporary art, religion, and architecture.33 A very specific feature of the diachronic development of pyramid complexes was the size of their storerooms. From the Fifth Dynasty onward they became a diagnostic element of mortuary temples. These storerooms accommodated all the commodities and items designated for use in the cult and as daily offerings. They were also provided to house the goods provided as payment to individual officials and priests employed in the temple and maintaining the royal cult. A closer look at the transformation of these stores over time reveals the nature of these changes. The mortuary temple of the Red Pyramid of king Sneferu in Dahshur covered an area of approximately 800 sq m and contained almost no storerooms. A similar situation can be seen with king Khufu 33. Smith 1946; Harpur 1987; Bárta 2012; Smith 2017.

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in Giza, whose temple took up more than 2,000 sq m but contained virtually no storerooms. At the onset of the Fifth Dynasty, however, storerooms occupied 916 sq m out of the total temple area of 4,250 sq m of king Sahura’s pyramid complex. By the end of the Sixth Dynasty, in the temple of Pepy II in South Saqqara, storage facilities occupied more than half of the total area of his mortuary temple. This trend is further proof of what is known about this era. The growing number of officials from the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty onward necessitated corresponding payrolls and individual benefits. That is why the storerooms where these payments in kind were stored prior to their distribution expanded. Eventually the steadily increasing burden of mandatory expenses contributed to the crisis of the late Old Kingdom state.34

5.4.2  Pyramids and tombs Pyramid complexes always assumed a dominant, central location in any royal cemetery.35 Around them rose not only the tombs of members of the royal family but also the tombs belonging to the highest officials of the state.36 A burial place adjacent to a royal tomb was always a token of privilege. At the same time, a tomb’s proximity to the king’s funerary complex guaranteed a secure afterlife. Typical examples include the precinct of Netjerikhet/​Djoser, in which members of his family were buried, and the cemeteries of Meidum, Dahshur, and Giza, which are the best explored cemeteries of the period. This practice largely declined during the reign of Nyuserra.37 From this time forward, high officials started to build their own monumental tombs away from royal funerary complexes, taking over focal points in the local topography. With the rising independence of elite administrators, it was their wealthy tombs that came to be surrounded

34. For details see Bárta 2005a. 35. Cf. Bárta 2012. 36. Roth 1993. 37. Roth 1988.

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by the lesser tombs of family members and clients. This was the era when family tombs and cemeteries came into being.38 This shift did not occur by chance. The cemetery complexes that grouped powerful officials, their family members, and their “clients” are representative of a powerful interest group that was exerting more and more influence over matters of state and society in general. During the Third Dynasty, the preferred site for royal tombs moved from Abydos to Saqqara. The kings’ burial structures were built of limestone, while the tombs of high officials continued to be built of mud brick,39 although the chapels of non-​royal tombs could be cased in limestone, and false doors were also increasingly fashioned out of limestone. While the officials’ afterlife took place within their tombs or, possibly, west of the burial ground, royal tombs were built to facilitate the king’s ascent to the sky. The superstructure of the royal tomb assumed its final, exclusive shape in the form of a pyramid at the beginning of the Third Dynasty. The pyramid form was exclusive to royal tombs for several centuries, with the exception of some of the mud-​brick tombs built for the pyramid builders in Giza.40 Only during the late Fifth and Sixth Dynasty were pyramids also used for the superstructures of the queens’ burial places. While the superstructures of royal tombs continuously expanded in size until the second half of the Fourth Dynasty, non-​royal tombs became standardized at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty and started to expand in size only during the reign of Nyuserra.41 During the Third Dynasty, the emphasis in royal mortuary complexes continued to be placed on the construction of underground areas designed to store large quantities of funerary equipment. In contrast, non-​royal tombs were conspicuous in their tendency toward economization, reflected in the smaller size and shrinking number of underground

38. Bárta 2006. 39. Baud 2002, Bárta 2005c. 40. For the Third Dynasty pyramids see Baud 2002. 41. Bárta 2005a; 2012.

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spaces, which often consisted of just one room. This tendency took a sudden turn at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty; the underground areas of pyramids were reduced to accommodate the burial chamber, together with other rooms that were used as storage facilities.

5.4.3  Building materials and decoration The choice to build in stone was one of the primary rights of the king, as all of Egypt’s resources were formally his property. Until the end of the Third Dynasty, the principal building material for high officials was mud brick. Kings used increasing quantities of stone in their funerary precincts, reaching a peak during the reign of Netjerikhet/​Djoser, who commissioned an eternal residence built entirely of stone. The first mastabas built entirely of limestone appeared relatively late, not before the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty.42 Other types of stone, such as black basalt, red granite, and calcite (alabaster), were employed exclusively in royal complexes and divine temples.43 A similar policy was in place with regard to the use of colors. While high officials could freely use basic colors, such as red, black, white, and yellow, for decorating their tombs, the king and his family had a monopoly on the use of blue and green pigments (which had to be brought into the valley by specifically organized expeditions) until the Fourth Dynasty. From the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, the wall decoration in individual parts of the royal complex became one of the principal elements in the symbolical interpretation of the royal funerary complex. The earliest evidence for an advanced decorative scheme comes from the Bent Pyramid of king Sneferu at Dahshur.44 Contemporary tombs of the highest officials and members of the royal family also started to be decorated in a limited way.45 Yet it was only from the early Fifth

42. Bárta  2005b. 43. Lehner and Hawass 2017. 44. Fakhry  1959. 45. Harpur 1987; 2001; Bárta 2005b.

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Dynasty onward that the decoration of non-​royal tombs became common, depending on the owner’s social status. The proliferation of this trend may be observed from the reign of Nyuserra onward.46 The Pyramid Texts appear in royal tombs only with Unas, the ultimate ruler of the Fifth Dynasty. They appear first on the walls of the antechamber and burial chamber, and they later expand into other parts of the underground areas of royal pyramids, including the corridors, during the Sixth Dynasty.47 This form of functional decoration was then adopted by the royal queens of Pepy I and II, and subsequently by the country’s high officials during the Middle Kingdom, in the form of the Coffin Texts used in non-​royal contexts.48 The first decorated funeral chambers of high officials, such as Kaiemankh, Rawer (III), Senedjemib Inti, and Seshemnefer (IV), all of them located in Giza, appeared at the same time as the Pyramid Texts if not earlier (Djedkara).49 Perhaps this was not just a chronological coincidence.

5.5.  The king and the royal family In the Old Kingdom, the king (and kingship) was the overriding principle around which society was structured and organized. Kingship was the major point of reference and, at the same time, a membrane that divided the profane and divine worlds. As such it was reflected in architecture, appropriated landscape, arts, texts, iconography, and religion. Kingship was expressed most powerfully by the political landscape, as this was visible to everyone. The cultural landscape was formed from public places and cemeteries dominated by pyramid complexes, in combination with a natural landscape imbued with cultural memory to express contemporary political preferences, religious concepts, power,

46. Bárta  2012. 47. Allen 2005. 48. Willems  2008. 49. Kanawati  2011.

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legitimacy, and wealth in which political forces used physical ordering to create a culture-​specific environment.50 The development of Old Kingdom kingship can be divided into two stages. The first lasted until the end of the Fourth Dynasty and was characterized by the absolute control exercised by the king, shared at his discretion with close family members who were appointed to the highest offices of the state. In this way, the royal family controlled most state activities. The absolute dominance of the king was demonstrated above all by the monumental mortuary complexes. The second stage, from the early Fifth Dynasty until the end of the Old Kingdom, was shaped by the withdrawal of the royal family from the state administration and the proliferation of non-​royals in high state offices. It was only during this stage, with the integration of individuals from outside the royal family, that the state organization became more formalized and integrated.51

5.5.1  The Third Dynasty If there is an Old Kingdom period that could be labeled a “dark age” due to the limited amount of available data, it would certainly be the Third Dynasty.52 Ancient Egyptian tradition has it that the beginning of the Third Dynasty was introduced by the reign of Netjerikhet/​Djoser. This king, who reigned for twenty-​eight to twenty-​nine years, counts among the most important rulers in Egyptian history for introducing major innovations that radically changed the art, architecture, administration, and religion of the period. While several earlier traditions were preserved, many new elements made their appearance at this time. During his reign, the art of writing proliferated, the full-​fledged concept of the false door as a central cultic place in tombs emerged, solar religion

50. Jackson 1970. 51. Popitz 1986: 42. 52. Cf. Swelim 1983, Baud 2002 and Ćwiek 2008.

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increased in importance, and foreign expeditions became part of royal policy.53 During Netjerikhet/​ Djoser’s reign, the first truly monumental funerary complex, one of the earliest stone architectural constructions in the world, came into being.54 According to a tradition that was most likely based on fact, it was designed by Imhotep, who may have been Netjerikhet/​Djoser’s son. According to later texts, Imhotep was a famous architect, wise man, and one of the founders of medicine in ancient Egypt.55 Netjerikhet/​Djoser is considered to be the son of the last ruler of the Second Dynasty, Khasekhemwy, and his (perhaps secondary) wife Nymaathap. Despite some bias originating in later historical sources such as the Turin King List and Manetho, both of which refer to Nebka or Necherophes respectively as the first king of the dynasty, the fact that Netjerikhet/​Djoser’s seal imprints were found at the entrance to Khasekhemwy’s tomb at Abydos is sufficient evidence to consider him the founder of the dynasty.56 In fact, this fact also emerges from the Saqqara King List.57 Further confirmation of a close link between Khasekhemwy and Netjerikhet/​Djoser is provided by an identical ink sign of the god Min on stone ritual vessels stored in the complexes of both kings.58 Beyond Saqqara, Netjerikhet/​Djoser’s presence across Egypt is surprisingly limited. He is attested in Heliopolis, the settlement debris of Elephantine’s Eastern Town, and Bet Khallaf.59 Tomb K 1 at Bet Khallaf

53. Baud 2002: 260–​269; Bárta 2010; Regulski 2010. 54. In date and scale, Netjerikhet/​Djoser’s monumental construction can only be compared to the city complex of Caral in ancient Peru, built from stone; see Shady and Kleihege 2008. 55. Wildung 1977. 56. Petrie 1901: pl. XXIV, 211. 57. Weill 1908: 13, no. 12. 58. Wilkinson 1999: 95. 59. For Heliopolis see Nuzzolo and Krejčí 2017; for Elephantine see Kaiser et  al. 1987: 107–​109.

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is sometimes ascribed to his mother, Nymaathap. The seal imprints clearly show that Netjerikhet/​Djoser had a very close connection to her. This tomb is one of the most prominent of the period, measuring 85 × 45 m in plan, covering a staggering area of 3,825 sq m, and reaching a height of almost 10 m at the time of its discovery.60 Nymaathap is known from epigraphic sources as “mother of royal children” and “mother of the king of Upper and Lower Egypt.” Despite this evidence, the fact that the official Metjen, whose tomb was found in Saqqara, served in her mortuary cult makes it likely that Nymaathap’s tomb is still awaiting discovery at this site.61 Other than in the Nile valley, Netjerikhet/​Djoser figures prominently in Sinai’s Wadi Maghara on one of the rock-​cut apotropaic reliefs. This was the pharaoh who apparently organized the first long-​distance expeditions to remote regions beyond the border of the country. The goal of these expeditions, which became “traditional” for the greater part of the Old Kingdom, was highly valued copper and turquoise.62 Beyond that, the inscriptional evidence is rather limited, as is the case for the remaining part of the dynasty.63 After Netjerikhet/​Djoser, Sekhemkhet reigned for about seven years. His unfinished funerary monument is located southwest of the precinct of Netjerikhet/​Djoser and was also built by Imhotep, as graffito with his name on the northern enclosure wall of the monument attests.64 The monument presents an enigma, since the burial chamber contained a sealed calcite sarcophagus that was found empty. As in the case of Netjerikhet/​Djoser, Sekhemkhet is attested by two inscriptions from the Wadi Maghara mines. Several lesser known, and therefore seemingly less significant, rulers followed. After Sekhemkhet, Nebka Hor Sanakht reigned for a period

60. Garstang 1903: 8–​9, pls. VI–​X . 61. Callender 2011: 48–​52. 62. Gardiner, Peet and Černý 1952. 63. Kahl, Kloth and Zimmermann 1995. 64. Goneim 1957: pl. XIII.

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of about nineteen years. The penultimate ruler of the dynasty was probably Khaba, with a reign of unknown length. The last ruler was Huni Hor Qahedjet, reigning for about twenty-​four years. Of these three, only Khaba’s burial place in Zawyet el-​Aryan is known.65 Despite his long reign, Huni’s funerary monument is missing. Based on the attested tombs of his high officials, it may be supposed that his final resting place was located in the area of Saqqara-​Abusir.66 There has long been discussion about the role and identity of the rulers named Nebka and Sanakht. Their identity and position in the sequence of Third Dynasty kings has now been confirmed by the recent re-​examination of a seal imprint (Liverpool E5251) from Tomb K2 in Bet Khallaf. The seal imprint displays Nebka’s name in a cartouche and Sanakht’s name in a serekh side by side, attesting to the fact that they, in fact, represent one and the same king. Moreover, given the evidence of the cartouche, this king must have reigned at the end of the Third Dynasty, as the first cartouches with royal names are otherwise known only from the reigns of Huni and Sneferu.67 Altogether, the Third Dynasty lasted about fifty to seventy-​four years, most likely closer to the lower estimate, as the long reign of Huni does not seem very likely.68 Most of the documented changes are linked to the first king of the dynasty, Netjerikhet/​Djoser, who apparently set the stage for the rise of the Old Kingdom state, whose foundations were further expanded and elaborated by Sneferu, the first king of the Fourth Dynasty.

65. Dodson 2000. 66. Bárta 2012. 67. Seidlmayer 1996: 121, pl. 23. 68. Hornung, Krauss and Warburton 2006:  490 (proposed length of forty-​eight days).

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5.5.2  The Fourth Dynasty The first king of the Fourth Dynasty was Sneferu, the unrivaled builder of Egyptian pyramids in the third millennium bc.69 His Horus name means “Lord of Maat” and invokes the goddess of order, possibly indicating that the Third Dynasty had ended with internal trouble, which the new ruler resolved by re-​establishing order in the realm. His mother was probably Meresankh, one of the wives of Huni.70 Sneferu appears to have married a daughter of Huni, Hetepheres (I). This conclusion is supported by her title “god’s daughter of his body,” which indicated her special status.71 It is feasible that she was the mother of Khufu. Her tomb deposit was found in Giza (G 7000x).72 Sneferu’s reign lasted about thirty years and was groundbreaking in many ways. The king consolidated and reformed the state administration; he discontinued the royal tradition of travelling through the realm and instead introduced the bi-​annual property censuses when all livestock was counted and taxed. These censuses were used in Egypt to date the regnal periods of individual rulers.73 It was also probably Sneferu who initiated the construction of small pyramids near important administrative and/​or religious centers throughout the Nile valley. These small pyramids were placed at elevated locations and marked what can be seen as the principal areas of royal interest. From the south to the north, these prominent sites were Elephantine, Edfu, Hierakonpolis, Ombos, Abydos, Zawyet el-​Maytin (also Zawyet Sultan), and Sila on the edge of Fayum.74 These pyramids

69. Overview with older literature including, for example, Nikolova 2004; Gundacker 2006. 70. Callender 2011: 59. 71. Reisner and Smith 1955. 72. Reisner and Smith 1955; Callender 2011: 60–​66; Münch 2000. 73. Nolan 2005. 74. Kaiser and Dreyer 1980 and Bárta 2005a, with previous literature. Two of these small pyramids were explored recently: Edfu (Marouard and Papazian 2012) and Zawyet el-​Maytin/​Zawyet Sultan (Bussmann 2018).

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signaled the permanent presence of the king, and they correlated with the location of the most important lowlands irrigated by the Nile floods (Arabic hawdu), therefore representing the major economic centers of the period.75 These were sites of major significance, and paradoxically, toward the end of the Old Kingdom they became the centers from which provincial independence developed. The distribution of these local centers is also indicative of another feature of the ancient Egyptian state in this period:  the largely asymmetrical relationship between the capital, Memphis, and the most important regional centers. This may be why tombs of high officials were built next to the capital until almost the end of the Fifth Dynasty. Sneferu reorganized the administration of the whole country and defined the office of the vizier.76 He was also Egypt’s most prolific builder in the third millennium bc. Sneferu built three major pyramids altogether, one in Meidum and another two, the Bent and Red Pyramids, in Dahshur.77 Sneferu was eventually buried in the Red Pyramid in Dahshur, as the fragments of a false door of red granite found in the mortuary temple attest.78 What also changed under Sneferu was the fundamental concept underlying the royal mortuary establishment. The Meidum complex no longer followed a north-​south, astral orientation, but was built in an east-​west direction, in accordance with the sun. Finally, the Meidum Pyramid displays a great technological leap forward. The chambers inside the pyramid feature corbeled vaults, which made it possible to support considerably greater pressure from the masonry above. The Bent Pyramid in Dahshur represents yet another technological advancement: it was the first attempt to achieve a true pyramidal shape. The causeway approaches the pyramid from the northeast, where a small station stands to this day. Once considered to be the valley temple, recent research has shown that this station was a cult construction on the route

75. Lehner 2000: 298–​307. 76. Baud 1999: 312. 77. For details see Ćwiek 1997: 17–​22; Verner 2008: 117–​141; Zecchi 2001: 89–​91. 78. Stadelmann 1985: 232.

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to the pyramid.79 The cult temple was situated at the eastern foot of the pyramid, which for the first time can be formally divided into exterior and interior parts. The Red Pyramid is the first true pyramid, completing the formal development of the aboveground shape of the royal tomb. The transition to the sun cult at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty was symbolized by the shape of the pyramid, the transfer of the cult temple to the eastern side of the pyramid, the change in the orientation of the king’s burial chamber to an east-​west direction, and a shift in the emphasis formerly put on Horus toward the sun god Ra. The new custom of rendering the throne name in a cartouche also appeared. This oval, symbolized by a protective loop (shen), expressed infinity, associated with the cyclical and eternally repeated solar cycle. From Sneferu’s time, this name would become a part of the royal titulary. The rising cult of the sun god Ra was also manifested through the appearance of the meret shrine, originating in the period of Sneferu’s rule, at which the goddess Hathor, the sun god Ra, and the king were worshipped.80 It is certainly interesting that this type of shrine does not appear again until the time of king Userkaf, at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, a boom period for the sun cult, which the kings of that dynasty used to promote their political objectives. Sneferu’s activities were certainly made possible by the growing economic potential of the country. During his reign, many new settlements (geregut) and estates (huut) were established, especially in the delta.81 Biographical inscriptions of the high officials Pehernefer and Metjen mention the foundation of nineteen geregut on the territories of the first, second, fifth, and sixth Lower Egyptian nomes.82 The importance of the delta, especially its eastern part, may be largely due to the fact that it provided much appreciated cattle farms, necessary for the economic needs of the state and at the same time a highly desired commodity for

79. Fakhry 1959; Arnold 2016. 80. Verner 2014: 227–​232. 81. Moreno García 1998. 82. Junker 1934; Gödecken 1976.

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trade with neighboring entities, especially to the east.83 Sneferu is also known to be the first ruler who opened the turquoise mines at Serabit el-​Khadim in the Sinai.84 The technical skills of the period are also documented by the unfinished dam Sadd el-​Kafara in Wadi Garrawi, dated to his reign or to that of his successor, Khufu.85 Some other, no less important innovations took place during his reign that deeply changed several aspects of society. Sneferu standardized the size of some of the mastaba-​type tombs, a policy that was perfected a generation later in Giza, during the reign of Khufu.86 The first hetep-​di-​nesut offering formulas appeared also at this time. These were short prayers in which the king acted as the principal donor of various offerings for the owner of the tomb.87 “Meidum ware,” high-​quality pottery, as well as miniature ceramic bowls and cups, replaced stone and other more expensive precursors, economizing the mortuary cults.88 Sneferu’s son and successor, Khufu, is notorious as the builder of the biggest pyramid ever constructed in Egyptian history. Khufu’s reign, which lasted at least twenty-​six to twenty-​seven years, is the longest attested both in the Western Desert (Water Mountain of Radjedef ) and on the earliest inscribed papyri ever found in Egypt, which gives the date as “ year after the 13th count of the big and small cattle” (see fi ­ gures 5.3a and 5.3b).89 Khufu transferred his principal burial ground to Giza, which was the only site relatively close to Memphis (Mennefer) with bedrock suitable for sustaining the pressure of the monumental pyramids of Khufu, Khafra, and Menkaura.90

83. Wenke, Redding and Cagle 2016; Sowada 2018. 84. Valbelle and Bonnet 1996: 6. 85. Garbrecht and Bertram 1983. 86. Der Manuelian 2003; Bárta 2005b. 87. Barta 1968. 88. Bárta 1995. 89. Kuhlmann 2005: 247–​249; Tallet 2017: 6–​7. 90. Bárta  2005a.

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Khufu continued the strong centrist policies of his father. His pyramid complex, especially the pyramid itself, represents the apogee of Old Kingdom technical skills. The Grand Gallery and the king’s chamber can be singled out for their sheer size, concept and arrangement, technical design, and workmanship. The two disassembled boats buried south of his pyramid are outstanding achievements in boatbuilding.91 Khufu also perfected the layout of his cemetery, characterized by three pyramids belonging to his mother and queens southeast of his pyramid, and cemeteries for the members of the royal family to the east and the officials of non-​royal origins to the west of his pyramid.92 Khufu also demonstrated interest in the provinces, at least in Abydos, where the temple from which his only statuette originated was probably built.93 Kawab, Khufu’s intended successor, died prematurely and was buried in the most prominent location east of Khufu’s pyramid, together with his wife Hetepheres (II) (twin mastaba G 7110 and 7120).94 Radjedef succeeded Khufu on the throne instead. He built his mortuary complex at Abu Rawash.95 Radjedef married Hetepheres (II), originally the wife of Kawab. Radjedef is also known for completing his father’s burial arrangements, as graffiti with his name were found in the boat pit of Khufu, south of his pyramid. Radjedef ’s complex is distinct for several reasons. It is located on a higher elevation than any other pyramid complex, and at the same time it is closest to the site of Heliopolis. This is why he has often been considered to be an adherent of the cult of the sun, and this may also explain why he was the first king to introduce the name “son of Ra” into royal titulary. The boat pit south of his pyramid contained several fragments of his sculptures, including a head, which probably belonged to the earliest known sphinx.96 91. For the first boat see Jenkins 1980. The second boat remains largely unpublished. 92. Jánosi 2005. 93. Bussmann 2010: 467. 94. Simpson 1978: 1–​8. 95. Vallogia 2011. 96. Ziegler 1997: 42–​45.

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Since Radjedef reigned for only about eight years, his successor was yet another son of Khufu, called Khufukhaf, or Khafra once he assumed the royal throne. Khafra returned to Giza and built the second largest pyramid on the site. He is known, above all, for completing the overall design of the necropolis by constructing his megalithic valley temple, the Sphinx, and the “sun temple” on the eastern edge of the pyramid plateau. These structures expressed the close ties between the ruler and the sun god, as did his royal statue with the falcon god Horus.97 Khafra was succeeded by the short-​lived king Baka, who initiated the building of his mortuary complex south of Giza at Zawyet el-​Aryan but was not able to finish it due to the short length of his reign (only a few years at most).98 The last king to build his mortuary complex at Giza was Menkaura. His pyramid was located, according to the “master plan,” in such a way that the line connecting its northwest corners was directed toward Heliopolis, the principal religious cult center of the Old Kingdom.99 Southeast of the pyramid plateau of Giza, Mark Lehner and his team have been uncovering the city of the pyramid builders dating to the Fourth Dynasty. This city, which was roughly contemporary with Menkaura’s reign, reveals incredible details about the Old Kingdom workforce and organization, the central provisioning of a workers’ settlement, logistics of pyramid construction, diet of the day, material culture, secular settlement architecture, and the like.100 Some of the outstanding masterpieces of Old Kingdom royal sculpture date to Menkaura’s reign. The king is represented by his dyad and in several (originally probably eight) triads depicting Menkaura in the company of the goddess Hathor, alongside representations of the individual nomes.101 Altogether, six

97. JE 10062 (CG 14), Egyptian Museum in Cairo:  Lehner and Hawass 2017: 189–​241. 98. Verner 2001: 240–​241. 99. Goedicke 2000. 100. Redding 2013; Lehner and Hawass 2017: 355–​401. 101. Friedman 2008.

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such triads were exposed in the valley temple of the king, who ruled for at least fourteen years.102 The last ruler of the Fourth Dynasty was Shepseskaf. Strangely enough, his throne name does not contain any reference to the sun god Ra. This is also true of Khentkaus I, who was probably the mother of two kings who were perhaps even twins:  Shepseskaf and Userkaf, the first king of the Fifth Dynasty. The fact that the names of none of these four individuals featured Ra may indicate a major religious shift within the ruling family.103 Summarizing the history of the Fourth Dynasty, which has been estimated to have lasted 107 years, shows rather clearly that, despite its length, the majority of its most important innovations occurred at its outset during the reign of Sneferu, and these were either continued or further developed by Khufu.104 The next period of vital changes is then connected with the closing part of the dynasty, represented by the reign of king Shepseskaf, thus initiating a transition into the Fifth Dynasty, which parted completely from most of the Fourth Dynasty traditions and policies.

5.5.3  The Fifth Dynasty The first ruler of the dynasty was Userkaf, whose reign reflected the transition from the previous period in several important aspects. His legitimacy was by no means flawless. He was probably the son of Khentkaus I, buried at Giza, and his wife was Neferhetepes. She is featured on the recently discovered blocks from the causeway of Sahura in Abusir (see figure 5.5). There she is also portrayed accompanying Sahura’s wife Meretnebty.105 This and other evidence, such as an inscription and a funerary domain with her name in the Saqqara tomb of Persen, led

102. Reisner 1931. 103. Verner 2014: 30. 104. Hornung, Kraus and Warburton 2002: 490. 105. El-​Awady 2009: pl. 5.

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Figure 5.5.  Unique relief from the causeway of Sahura in Abusir. In the center of the scene the king sits on the throne, surrounded by his entourage, consisting of royal family members and his loyal officials. In the upper left corner Sahura’s mother Neferhetepes is depicted, and behind her is the royal wife. In front of the king, in two horizontal registers, six royal sons are shown, headed by the eldest son, Ranefer. Reproduced from El-​Awady 2009: 171, fig. 83; © Czech Institute of Egyptology.

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Miroslav Verner to believe that she was not only Userkaf ’s wife but also the mother of Sahura.106 This political situation and his questionable legitimacy may be the reason that Userkaf accepted the Horus name (and also the name of Two Ladies) “He Who Has Established Order,” clearly harking back to Sneferu’s times (Sneferu’s Horus name being “Lord of Order”, as discussed in section 5.5.2). Another name of the king read “Perfect Golden Falcon,” making manifest his status as founder of the dynasty. Finally, the name Userkaf links him to his predecessor, the last king of the Fourth Dynasty, Shepseskaf. Starting from the early Fifth Dynasty, pyramids became considerably smaller, and greater emphasis was placed on the decoration of royal mortuary complexes. The location of Userkaf ’s eternal resting place indicates that he wished to demonstrate his adherence to Netjerikhet/​Djoser, on one side, and his brother and predecessor on the throne, Shepseskaf, on the other. Userkaf deliberately chose to place the center of his pyramid along the same axis that connected the centers of Shepseskaf ’s mastaba in South Saqqara and Sneferu’s southern pyramid at Dahshur (“Bent Pyramid”). To do this, he was forced to squeeze his complex in between the temenos wall of the Step Pyramid and the “Dry Moat.”107 Given the lack of space, he had to rearrange the basic outline of the complex and move his mortuary temple to the south of the pyramid. Only a small cultic installation was erected where the mortuary temple would normally have stood. In the third year of the cattle count, construction began on the sun temple of Userkaf. This was a completely new kind of royal building, which was designed to express the exclusive and intimate relationship between the ruling king, the sun god Ra, and the goddess Hathor. Userkaf chose to build his sun temple, called “Ra’s Nekhen,” on a site adjacent to and north of Abusir, known today as Abu Ghurab. Undoubtedly the reference to the Upper Egyptian preunification political and religious cult center at Nekhen was used with the intention of emphasizing the

106. Verner 2014: 31. 107. Bárta 2016a.

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significance and importance of the edifice and to make clear that this central symbolic place for worship of the sun god, Ra, was established, supported, and controlled by the king. The sun temple complex, like a royal mortuary complex, consisted of three major parts: the valley temple, the causeway, and the upper temple. It was in the upper temple above all that major differences could be noted. Unlike a mortuary temple, the upper temple was dominated by a large open courtyard on the east and a massive base with a standing obelisk in the west. Both these elements were of predominant importance for the cult of the sun.108 The existence of six such temples is documented, although the physical remains of only two, belonging to kings Userkaf and Nyuserra, have been preserved at Abu Ghurab in the Abusir region.109 Although virgin territory when Userkaf built his sun temple there, this area would soon become the principal cemetery for the kings of the Fifth Dynasty. The construction of sun temples in the Fifth Dynasty may be surprising, yet it accords with the political scene of the period. From the early Fifth Dynasty more and more non-​royal officials were entering even the highest offices in the state. This was due to the rising complexity of the expanding state and the need for a corresponding number of administrators. This trend led to the loss of an administration principally populated by members of the royal family. Relatively quickly, the king was forced to devise new methods for maintaining his supremacy and control over state affairs, especially in economic matters. One of the solutions was the marriage of royal daughters to the most important officials of the period, in order to cement their loyalty. The primary objective, however, was to maintain control over economic and political affairs. By creating the concept of a specific centralized place for the cult of the sun god Ra, alongside Horus, Hathor, and in a certain sense also himself, Userkaf and his followers were able to devise an instrument for controlling essential religious and economic aspects of kingship.

108. For Userkaf ’s reign see Stadelmann 2000 and Verner 2014: 29–​36. 109. Bissing 1905; Kaiser 1956; Winter 1957; Ricke 1965; 1969; Bárta 2013b.

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Sun temples played a very specific role in the ancient Egyptian economy. The papyrus archives from Abusir provide firm evidence that all of the commodities coming from the Residence, which were to be used in the cult performed at the pyramid temples of the ancient Egyptian kings, were delivered first to the sun temple of the ruling king, where they were consecrated, “solarized,” and only then sent further on to their individual destinations (primarily the royal mortuary temples). There is no need to mention that these resources were also used to pay officials serving in the funerary complexes.110 A result of this policy was that individual royal names of the rulers who built the sun complexes all incorporated the name of the sun god: Sahura’s name meant “He Who Is Close to Re”; Neferirkara’s “Beautiful Is the Ka of Ra”; Raneferef ’s “Beautiful Is Ra”; Nyuserra’s “The One Who Belongs to the Power of Ra”; and Djedkara’s “Eternal Is the Ka of Ra.” One exception to the rule in this series of Fifth Dynasty kings occurs at the very beginning of this development, the founder of the Fifth Dynasty Userkaf—​“Powerful Is His Ka.” Another was Menkauhor—​“Enduring Are the Kas of Horus”—​who ruled immediately after Nyuserra. One of the features of Userkaf ’s era was a renewed interest in provincial affairs, in evidence from the moment of his ascent to the throne. This was reflected especially in a new wave of building activity, for example at Medamud and Tehna, as well as the founding of new settlements, especially in Lower Egypt.111 The king evidently wished to not only consolidate his power but also demonstrate that it was the king himself who was solely responsible for the restoration of Maat. As temples, with their religious and economic functions, were simultaneously religious and politically important centers, the king’s interest in the provincial temples meant that his control over the economic processes in the entire country was tightened.112 However, as Richard Bussmann has pointed out, most

110. For more on the papyrus archives in Abusir see Posener-​Kriéger 1976 and Posener-​Kriéger, Verner and Vymazalová 2006. 111. Bussmann 2010: 109–​116, 509–​512. 112. Goedicke 1979; Papazian 2012.

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Fifth Dynasty kings who were active in the provinces focused on the cult connected with their own statues and paid little, if any, attention to the local gods. These come into focus only at the end of the Old Kingdom.113 Sahura was also active abroad, and according to Andrés Diego Espinel, his valley temple had perhaps been inspired by the temple of Balaat Gebal in Byblos.114 Another major innovation of the period, which remained popular until the end of the Old Kingdom, was the marriage of royal daughters to influential officials of the time.115 This was probably due to the changed role of the king, who was confronted by the growing number of influential administrators coming from outside the royal family. Such marriages were a very efficient means for building close blood ties and ensuring loyalty. Nineteen marriages of royal daughters with the title “royal daughter” or its variants “royal daughter of his body” or “eldest royal daughter” are attested.116 Thirteen of these royal daughters married officials of non-​royal descent. The founder of this policy, Userkaf, married his daughter Khamaat to Ptahshepses. This Ptahshepses was one of the most influential officials of the period and was ultimately buried in his tomb in Saqqara.117 Princess Ifi was the second royal daughter to fall victim to this policy. She married a dignitary, Kakhenet, and was the only princess buried in the province.118 Following Userkaf, at least ten marriages of this kind are known in the second half of the Fifth Dynasty. Userkaf was succeeded by Sahura, who founded a new royal necropolis in Abusir, south of Userkaf ’s sun temple.119 Sahura’s complex is one of

113. Bussmann 2010: 509. 114. Espinel 2002. 115. Bárta and Dulíková 2015. 116. Schmitz 1976:  109–​133, 340–​342; Baud 1999:  185–​189, 333–​346; Callender 2002. 117. Dorman 2002. 118. El-​Khouli and Kanawati 1990: 26–​66. 119. On the history of the Fifth Dynasty, and Abusir in particular, see Verner 2002; 2014.

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the best preserved complexes of the third millennium bc and features the most extensive decoration program attested from the Old Kingdom, including famous scenes of the expedition to Punt, the royal family, the king performing ritual activities, the “emaciated bedouins,” and the transport of the pyramidion.120 Sahura was followed by his son Neferirkara, who was also buried in Abusir despite the unfinished state of his pyramid complex. It remained unfinished due to his relatively short reign of about ten to eleven years. A  papyrus archive discovered in his complex, together with another from the complex of his son Raneferef (and a minor set of papyri fragments from the complex of his wife Khentkaus) represent a major corpus of information relating to different aspects of the mortuary cult and economy, both for royal mortuary complexes and the Old Kingdom in general. This corpus also provides information on the organization of the priesthood and different forms of relationships between the “state” and the officialdom of the period.121 The most likely successor of Neferirkara was the ephemeral Shepseskara, who was perhaps the same person as Netjerirenra, one of Sahura’s sons.122 Neferirkara and his wife Khentkaus (II) had two sons, Raneferef and Nyuserra. Raneferef reigned perhaps only a few years; thus his complex remained largely unfinished and the most important sections had to be finished in mud brick. Due to these circumstances, one of the largest collections (together with the valley temple of Menkaura in Giza) of temple equipment was uncovered in his mortuary temple. It included royal statuary, statues of prisoners, pottery, stone vessels, faience inlays (which were used as an alternative to reliefs for decorating the temple), papyri, and many other items.123

120. El-​Awady  2009. 121. Posener-​ Kriéger 1976; Verner, Posener-​ Kriéger and Jánosi 1995; Verner, Posener-​Kriéger and Vymazalová 2006. 122. Verner 2014: 55. 123. Verner et al. 2006.

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Raneferef ’s successor Nyuserra was one of the most important rulers of the Fifth Dynasty. During his thirty-​eight-​year reign (he is known to have celebrated his sed festival), all the major aspects of Egyptian society were exposed to profound changes.124 We can also observe during his reign the first explicit indications of an encroaching climate change, suggested by the motif of the desert, which started to appear frequently on the walls of both royal and non-​royal monuments.125 Important evidence demonstrating some of the fundamental changes that occurred in this period is provided by monumental architecture. The funerary complex of king Nyuserra was the last royal tomb built in the pyramid necropolis at Abusir. It consisted of the standard components—​ valley temple, causeway, pyramid temple, and the actual pyramid—​yet it differs from its predecessors in some important aspects.126 Nyuserra’s sun temple was the second structure of this kind to be archaeologically explored. It is located just several hundred meters north of Userkaf ’s temple.127 Its structure, building materials, decoration, and symbolism made this temple the perfect manifestation of the idea of the temple being the place of the cult of the god Ra, through which the king demonstrated his exclusive status as the guarantor of Maat. Although its design was identical to that of earlier sun temples, Nyuserra’s temple, because of its better preservation and the degree to which it has been studied, has become the modern exemplar of this temple form. It became famous mainly for the splendid relief decoration in the “Chamber of the Seasons,” which displays images of the different stages of the Egyptian year.128 Scenes depicting the sed festival in celebration of the king also come from this temple. Nyuserra’s reign was also characterized by the growing wealth and power of several high officials of non-​royal origin who were close to the

124. On his reign see Bárta 2005b; Bárta and Dulíková 2015; Verner 2014: 61–​75. 125. Bárta 2015b. 126. Borchardt 1907; Verner 2008: 245–​250 (with discussion). 127. Bissing 1905; Verner 2014: 212–​218. 128. Edel 1961.

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king. As has already been observed, this trend was born at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, and during Nyuserra’s reign it took on greater importance. One of the most prominent representatives of this trend was the official Ptahshepses, who started his career at the royal court as a man in charge of the private affairs of the king.129 Presumably because of his intimacy with the king, Ptahshepses became a vizier. Apparently he was married twice, the second time to a royal daughter of Nyuserra, which may indicate that he had become so influential that the king wished to ensure his loyalty in this specific way.130 Ptahshepses’s tomb at Abusir developed in several stages and included some formerly royal architectural elements such as an almost 10 m high monumental portico with two palmiform columns, a room with three niches for the cult of three statues of the owner, a large open courtyard with huge limestone pillars decorated with the standing figures of the owner of the tomb, an east-​west oriented cult chapel with a false door embedded in the western wall and bench along the northern wall, a room in the shape of a boat for travels to and within the netherworld, and a pointed roof above the burial chamber. Two red granite sarcophagi of Ptahshepses and his second wife, Nyuserra’s daughter Khamerernebty, can still be found in the burial chamber, and their workmanship testifies that they were produced in the royal workshop.131 Ptahshepses is one of the first officials who established nepotism as an integral part of the state administration.132 Based on the inscriptions in his tomb, it is easy to trace the footsteps of his sons, who in fact followed the career path taken by their father. This practice seems to have had a long-​term impact on the changing nature of the state administration as well as on the situation at court. His marriages produced possibly seven sons. All of them started their careers as royal court officials. Most

129. Verner 1977; Vachala 2004; Krejčí 2009. 130. However, there is only circumstantial evidence for this assumption:  Krejčí 2009: 22–​25. 131. Verner 2000. 132. Bárta 2005c; Krejčí 2009; Bárta and Dulíková 2015; Nováková 2017.

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held the titles of “sole companion,” “lector priest,” and “priest of the iset chamber.” Ptahshepses Junior (II) was probably the most successful follower of his father. Moreover, his career and status are well known thanks to preserved inscriptions in his tomb, which is located to the east of his father’s.133 Ptahshepses Junior’s standing is reflected by his titles, such as “the one in charge of the diadem” and “inspector of the palace.” These were highly prestigious offices at the court and close enough to the king. The apogee of his career, however, was represented by the title “overseer of Upper Egypt.” The decoration of Ptahshepses’s tomb was exceedingly rich compared to previous tombs of high officials of similar status; it is estimated that only one-​fifth of the original decoration has been preserved, covering around 60 sq m.134 Yet the preserved decoration attests to the patrimonial household of an owner well-​established in society. Old Kingdom society can be pictured as a pyramid-​shaped hierarchy, with a patron on top. Below him are the members of his family, and still lower are their dependents. Everyone’s social standing, power, and wealth is based on their relationship to the patron. And of course the patron must rely on their loyalty and “compensate” them for it.135 In Ptahshepses’s mastaba, seventy-​six different dependents holding thirty-​two different titles are attested. They included scribes, household managers, officials concerned with the organization of labor, physicians, craftsmen, officials for personal service, food supply, priests, and officials working in state institutions.136 Ptahshepses’s example was the first of a new development. At the same time, another high official named Ty built his lavish tomb at Saqqara.137 In contrast to the rudimentary preservation of Ptahshepses’s tomb at Abusir, most of the original decorations in Ty’s tomb have been

133. Bárta 2000. 134. Vachala 2004. 135. Lehner 2000; Campagno 2014. 136. Nováková 2017: 99–​103. 137. Épron et al. 1939; Wild 1953; 1966.

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preserved. The tomb walls feature depictions of about 1,800 figures (roughly 90 percent are male), while Ty himself is depicted roughly 100 times. Funerary priests dominate in the reliefs (more than 560 depictions), followed by boatmen and fishermen (about 180), cattle keepers (about 150), scribes and overseers (150), family members (118), and ordinary peasants (108). Many of them are labeled not only with their titles and professions but also with names. This is a very instructive indication of the scale and intensity required to maintain the social hierarchies.138 Ty’s closest family members, his wife Neferet and his son Demedj, were buried inside his tomb as well. From this time onward, family tombs and clusters of tombs belonging to members of the same family became quite a widespread phenomenon, and the “family cemeteries” came into existence. Their purpose is highly symbolic and twofold:  to eternalize the influence and standing of the family and to provide legitimacy to the living family members for acquiring offices corresponding to their social status, reflected by their funerary monuments.139 During Nyuserra’s era, the size of wealthy officials’ tombs increased enormously, as did the number of rooms inside their tomb complexes. Their decorative programs also became truly elaborate, covering not only the walls of cult chapels but also the walls of the corridors, storage rooms, and open spaces, including courtyards and porticos. Large open courtyards became an established component of these tombs; they served for ceremonial gatherings of the family and clients of the deceased, in which their social status and networks were reaffirmed, ties were endorsed, and new interest groups were fostered.140 This was truly the time when an individual could rise in rank, and when mortuary areas became the sphere of competition and major economic expenditures, being the place where the wealthy demonstrated their power, status, and legitimacy.141 Alongside this development, Nyuserra was the first king to

138. I owe these statistics to my PhD student, V. Nováková. 139. Bárta 2006. 140. Bárta 2006. 141. For ethno-​archaeological parallels see Pearson 1982.

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show renewed interest in maintaining a symbolic royal presence in the provinces by setting up his statues in important locations such as Karnak and possibly Coptos.142 His example was followed by most rulers until the Sixth Dynasty. Nyuserra’s rule also led to a major change in the ancient Egyptian view of the afterlife. This was the introduction of the male divinity Osiris, god of the afterlife, who was invoked by many officials, as their offering formulas attest.143 It is justifiable to call this a limited “democratization” of the afterlife.144 The first known attestation of Osiris occurs in the hetep-​di-​nesut formula of the high official Ptahshepses from Saqqara.145 Another document, roughly of the same age if not even earlier, belongs to Neferirtenef, a priest working in the sun temples of Sahura and Neferirkara.146 In both cases, Osiris is a part of the offering formula, read as “a boon which Osiris gives.” Osiris is represented by a sign with a seated man with a goatee wearing a close-​fitting cloak. Osiris was often given the attribute Nebmaat, “Lord of Order.” At the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, this was combined with an expansion of the cult of Maat, the goddess of Order, and of her priests. Note also the Horus names of Sneferu (“Lord of Order”) and Userkaf (“The One Who Accomplishes Order”). Userkaf ’s daughter was called Khamaat (“Order Appears”). This was the logical framework for the very specific theological climate of the era.147 The emergence of Osiris during the reign of Nyuserra, if not even earlier, can thus be seen as another political policy that both reaffirmed the exclusive rank of the king and gave the continually growing elite access to an exclusive concept of the afterlife that was not so distant from the king’s.

142. Bussmann 2010: 472. 143. Smith 2017. 144. Griffiths 1980; Begelsbacher-​Fischer 1981: 124–​125; Smith 2009. 145. Mathieu 2010: 78, fig. 1. 146. Van de Walle 1978: 24, no. 70 and pl. 1. For the proposed dating of the mastaba see Strudwick 2005: 304 and Mathieu 2010: 77. 147. Mathieu 2010: 85–​87.

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We can thus see how Nyuserra’s era was truly groundbreaking in a number of ways. After his reign, Egypt became quite a different country in numerous aspects. Nyuserra’s successor was king Menkauhor, whose reign was very short and who left behind an unfinished pyramid complex in central Saqqara. Menkauhor was the first king to leave Abusir to build his complex in Saqqara, close to the mortuary temple of Teti.148 Although he reigned for approximately nine years, not much is known about him. He was a devoted supporter of the mortuary cults of his predecessors in Abusir and the last king to build a solar temple. He was succeeded by Djedkara Isesi, the penultimate ruler of the dynasty, who reigned for about forty-​three years. Djedkara Isesi’s era corresponds to the end of the Early Bronze Age III in the Near East and the beginning of the Early Bronze Age IV, its final phase. This was not a chance divide, at least as far as modern Syria, Israel, Jordan, and Iraq are concerned. Around the middle of the twenty-​fourth century a period of instability began in the Near East. During this time most towns disappeared or declined, and a large part of the population reverted to a nomadic way of life.149 Unsurprisingly, in this period the Old Kingdom too entered a new, this time the last, stage of its development. Djedkara distinguished himself from his predecessors by moving his mortuary complex to South Saqqara and by refraining from building a sun temple. During his reign the provinces started to increase in importance, and local provincial governors (“nomarchs”, cf. also ­chapter  7), who extended the king’s influence into distant parts of the realm, are active in the Upper Egyptian nomes 15, 20, and 21.150 Djedkara also paid significant attention to the provinces, as his building activities are attested in the temple of Hierakonpolis or Khentimentiu in Abydos.151 Djedkara initiated several administrative reforms and revived some old high-​ranking titles such as “king’s son” and “hereditary prince” to lend

148. Hawass 2010. 149. Bárta 2013d. 150. Sinclair 2013: 125. 151. Bussmann 2010: 51, 176.

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additional legitimacy to some of the highest officials in the country. He hoped to achieve the same result with personal letters issued to some officials (Rashepses or Senedjemib Inti).152 Petra Andrássy has observed that from this reign onward, many non-​royal tombs feature fictional depictions of estate processions that combined the name of the tomb owner and the expected harvest. These can be interpreted as further evidence of the struggle for greater independence on the part of provincial officials.153 Djedkara also reorganized mortuary cults within the pyramid complexes, which represented one of the most powerful economic engines of the day.154 All these individual changes made to the administration of the country indicate that Djedkara was working to maintain the power and supremacy of kingship by as many means as possible.155 Djedkara’s mortuary complex has never been properly documented or published. Current archaeological evidence for his period suggests that he was most likely related to the Abusir kings, as some members of his family were buried in their necropolis.156 Many other members of his family and high officials of the period situated their tombs north of the pyramid complex of Netjerikhet/​Djoser.157 The latest explorations in and around his complex in South Saqqara show that many significant monuments from his reign are still waiting to be excavated and properly evaluated.158 Unas, the ultimate king of the Fifth Dynasty, was famous for introducing the Pyramid Texts.159 Unas himself had no extraordinary achievements, based on the current evidence, with this one exception. The burial chamber and antechamber of his pyramid were inscribed with the

152. Verner 2014: 85. 153. Andrassy 2008: 85. 154. Verner 2014: 85. 155. Baer 1960: 298–​302. 156. Verner 2002. 157. Verner 2014: 81–​84. 158. Megahed 2017. 159. Allen 2005: 15–​64.

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Pyramid Texts in their first manifestation.160 These religious compositions have the primary objective of ensuring the king’s safe journey to the netherworld, providing magical protection to his soul after death. The texts are a disparate collection of spells that vary in nature, origin, and age. The question of why it was Unas, out of all the kings, who introduced this innovation remains unanswered, but there can be no doubt that this was one of the major steps on the path to retaining and emphasizing the king’s unique position in this world and the next. Unas found his own way to deal with the growing independence of administrative officials (and many centuries later, the Middle Kingdom king Senusret III emulated his method, perhaps consciously, perhaps not). Unas made the decision to recall his second vizier to the capital to keep him under his control and did the same with his provincial officials, allowing the central administration to once again dominate the provinces. Somewhat surprisingly, there has been no evidence for any tombs of any high officials in the provinces during Unas’s reign. Ultimately, Unas’s efforts had no long-​term effects. Thus the kings of the Sixth Dynasty found it necessary to introduce ever more new measures to control provincial power.161 The Fifth Dynasty lasted for some 130 years, during which ancient Egyptian society changed drastically. State affairs were taken over by officials who came from outside the royal family, and these officials became increasingly independent from royal influence. The race for status found its expression in both royal and non-​royal architecture, and in religion it was manifested in the cult of Osiris and the Pyramid Texts. As in previous periods, this was a time of ostensible historical continuity punctuated by the personalities of Userkaf and Nyuserra, two pivotal kings during whose reigns most aspects of society were completely transformed.

160. Allen 2005. 161. Kanawati 1980: 16–​17.

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5.5.4  The Sixth Dynasty The Sixth Dynasty, dating tentatively from the early twenty-​third to the middle of the twenty-​second centuries, was characterized by the continuing decline (already discernible in the Fifth Dynasty) of central authority, the legitimacy and power of the king, and the concept of kingship itself. This is visible, above all, in monumental architecture and in the administration of both the Residence and the provinces. The administration of the state was subject to constant reform. As shown by the monumental tombs of top state officials throughout the country, the wealth of provincial officials and their families was on the rise. In addition to the failing Nile floods, these family ties and the fact that offices were increasingly hereditary imposed significant constraints on the economic capacities of the country, which in turn set heavy limits on the king’s activities. Kingship was gradually eroding, and the fight for power and influence at the royal court became relevant, especially when competition for the throne was at play. Court intrigues and politics are reflected in the documents recording the investigation of a failed attempt to assassinate Pepy I as well as, as later told by Manetho, the assassination of Teti, founder of the Sixth Dynasty.162 The king’s attempts to regain full control by initiating new administrative reforms were largely ineffective. These included changing the vizirate, devising a specific marriage policy for kings, and developing a new attitude toward the provinces.163 Teti was the only king of the Sixth Dynasty who maintained his mortuary complex in central Saqqara. Teti was the first king of the Sixth Dynasty. His father remains unknown. His mother was likely to have been queen Sesheshet (I).164 Teti’s principal wives included Iput, daughter of Unas and the mother of Pepy I—​indicating a certain continuity between the Fifth and the Sixth Dynasties—​and Khuyt, evidently the mother of Userkara, an ephemeral king who ruled after Teti. Teti’s reign was also the time of two notable viziers:  Kagemni and Mereruka. Both were his sons-​in-​law. Kagemni 162. Kanawati 2003. 163. Kanawati 1980; Bárta 2015e. 164. For more on her role see Stasser 2013 and Callender 2011.

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was married to Sesheshet Nubkhetnebty, and Mereruka to Sesheshet Waatetkhethor. Clearly the name of Teti’s mother was very popular in the royal court at that time. It is also evident that Teti was a great follower of Nyuserra’s policy of binding high officials through marriages to his daughters. During this period, the names of tomb owners were erased in several tombs and the tombs themselves were reassigned by the king to different officials. This was an unprecedented measure, because an Egyptian who had lost his name and tomb lost his afterlife in the netherworld.165 These acts demonstrate that the ruler had to contend with opposition in his own court, something that is also suggested by one of Teti’s royal names: Seheteptawy, meaning “He Who Pacifies the Two Lands.” Teti ruled for no more than twelve years, as confirmed by the Annals from South Saqqara.166 Like Unas, Teti had to redesign some aspects of the state administration. Teti, too, had two viziers residing in the capital city. Unlike those of Unas, Teti’s viziers each had defined powers in the provinces: one was in charge of tax collection, and the other was in charge of all royal works (meaning the organization and management of construction projects paid for by the state). Also under Teti, the seat of the vizier was established in present-​day Edfu.167 Manetho relates that it was Teti who, after a reign of almost thirty years, was ultimately murdered by his palace guards, part of a harem plot. Evidence from contemporary sources is lacking, however.168 Teti was succeeded on the throne by Userkara, whose mother may have been Khuyt, one of Teti’s wives. From a historical point of view, Userkara’s reign, which lasted for only one or a few years, was truly a very short intermezzo; not even his tomb is known today.169 His name, read

165. Kanawati 2003. 166. Baud and Dobrev 1995. 167. Kanawati 1980: 22–​28. 168. Stadelmann 1994. 169. Gourdon 2016: 65–​68.

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in translation as “Strong Is the Ka of Ra,” may be indicative of the inner strife at the court focusing around the solar cult of the sun god Ra. His successor, the son of queen Iput and Teti, was Pepy I, who reigned for almost fifty years.

Figure  5.6.  View of the pyramid complex of Pepy I at South Saqqara with the cemetery of the queens and other members of the family: 1: pyramid complex of Pepy I; 2: Nebwenet; 3: Inenek Inti; 4: Southwest pyramid; 5: Meretites (II); 6: Ankhnespepy (II); 7: Ankhnespepy (III); 8: Meha and Netjerikhethor; 9: Raherishefnakht; 10: Behenu. Reproduced from Legros 2015: 8, fig. 3.

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Pepy I’s pyramid complex in South Saqqara, Men-​nefer-​Pepy, “Eternal Is the Beauty of Pepy” (see figure 5.6), gave the name to the entire settlement area of the then capital city, which was originally called Inbu-​hedj, “White Walls,” and lay to the east of this complex. The local designation was soon used for the entire agglomeration of the capital city situated east of the Saqqara pyramid field: Memphis (Mennefer). His complex is outstanding for one additional reason: it includes the smaller complexes of several queens, each with a small pyramid and a cult temple.170 Pepy I married two daughters of the Abydene dignitary Khuy and his wife Nebet. He evidently did so to retain (or regain) control over southern Egypt. These daughters are known by their royal names Ankhnespepy I and II. Their brother was the dignitary Djau, who became vizier, evidently thanks to the union between the king and the local Abydene family of influential dignitaries. This may explain why, for quite a long time, the seat of the vizier’s office remained at Abydos after it had been moved there from Edfu. This was a very important juncture, not only from Djau’s point of view, but also for the history of the coming Eighth Dynasty and for preserving the continuity of the Old Kingdom administration and royal office. Pepy I’s complex at South Saqqara features at least eight smaller pyramid complexes for his consorts (Ankhnespepy III, who was also buried in the area, was a consort of Pepy II); beside Ankhnespepys II’s, there are also those of Nebuwenet, Mehaa, Inenek Inti, Behenu, and Meretites (II), and the Western pyramid.171 What matters from the point of view of the status race is that two of these complexes, those of Ankhnespepy II and Behenu, feature Pyramid Texts, which for several generations had been the exclusive right of the royal tomb only. From the reign of Pepy II, the Pyramid Texts are found in the pyramids of Iput II and Wedjebten.172 Given the number of known queens of Pepy I, it is not at all surprising that Pepy I also became the target of a harem plot headed by one of 170. Labrousse and Albouy 1999. For the latest overview of their locations see Labrousse 2015: 8, fig. 3. 171. Callender 2011: 235–​271. 172. Allen 1986; Berger el-​Naggar and Fraisse 2015.

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his many wives. Luckily for him, the plot was foiled in time. The fate of Pepy’s opponents, which included some of his high officials and possibly also his vizier, Rawer (contrary to what one would expect, this vizier did not take part in the subsequent investigation), is unknown.173 Instead, the investigation was conducted by the high official Weni. This was such an important and unique event, and such an uncommon expression of the king’s trust, that Weni included the following in the biographical inscription in his tomb at Abydos: When there was a legal case in secret in the royal harem against the royal wife, the “great of affection,” his majesty had me proceed to hear it on my own. No vizier or official was present apart from myself because I was excellent, I was rooted in his heart, and his heart was full of me. I alone, together with (just) one other judge and mouth of Nekhen put it down in writing, although I was (just) of the rank of overseer of the Khenty-​she of the Great House; never before had anyone like me heard the secrets of the royal harem, and yet his majesty let me hear (them).”174 In spite of this fortunate outcome, both Teti and Pepy I were probably targeted for assassination. This too may indicate that the times were definitely changing and that the king had to fight on many fronts, including the royal harem. While the absence of historical sources from earlier periods may mask the possibility of similar events having occurred before in Egyptian history, there can be no doubt that at that time, intrigue was rife, both within the court and throughout the realm. Clientelism and the gradually declining influence of both the ruler and his appointed officials produced uncertainty and competition for the throne from among the king’s many sons.

173. Strudwick 2005: 377. 174. Strudwick 2005: 353.

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Pepy I’s successor Merenra was the son of queen Ankhnespepy I.  This did not prevent him, after his succession to the throne, from taking his aunt Ankhnespepy II (formerly the wife of Pepy I) in marriage. She became the mother of Pepy II. Merenra’s rule, which lasted for about a decade, was marked by the emergence and development of numerous local necropoleis of high officials in the provinces of southern Egypt: Elephantine, Edfu, Thebes, Coptos, Dendara, Qasr el-​Sayad, Abydos, Akhmim, Deir el-​Gebrawi, Meir, Sheikh Said, Zawyet el-​ Maytin, Kom el-​Ahmar, and Deshasha.175 Texts from his reign indicate a continuing, substantial level of royal authority across the country, as attested by two references to the trips that Merenra made to the Aswan region. Here the Egyptian king met with chiefs of the Nubian tribes Irtjet, Medjat, and Wawat, and received their homage and tribute.176 After the reign of Merenra, the throne was assumed by his son, Pepy II. He is the ruler who is traditionally associated with the end of the Old Kingdom and the Sixth Dynasty, around the middle of the twenty-​second century bc. The length of Pepy II’s reign is unclear. A short inscription found on Elephantine Island mentions the second anniversary of his sed festival celebration,177 and there is also a Year after the 31th Count, first Month of the Shemu season, day 20 from Hatnub graffito no. 7, which is so far the latest contemporary date for his reign.178 Therefore, it seems that he must have ruled for at least sixty-​two or sixty-​four years, based on the biennial census. According to a much later tradition, Pepy II reigned for ninety years (Turin Canon) or even ninety-​four years (according to Manetho). Current opinion is that a period slightly longer than sixty years is the most plausible.179

175. See Elsner 2004; Dodson and Ikram 2008 (with further references to individual sites). 176. Strudwick 2005: 133–​134, nos. 50–​51. 177. Sethe 1903: I, 115. 178. Spalinger 1994: 308. 179. Hornung, Krauss and Warburton 2006: 134.

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With regard to the pivotal cult of Netjerikhet/​Djoser and Sneferu throughout the Old Kingdom, it is certainly important to mention that Pepy II positioned the center of his pyramid at South Saqqara so that it was alligned to the pyramid of Netjerikhet/​Djoser and the Bent Pyramid of Sneferu. The reason for Pepy II to make such a specific landscape arrangement was probably symbolic. At a time of growing political instability, this alignment linked him to the legacy of two great ancestors.180 The period of Pepy II’s reign was marked by many administrative reforms, which can be divided into two major stages, each with its own characteristics. During the first half of his rule, the office of vizier was held by members of the Khuy family in Abydos. This was clearly the consequence of policy established under Pepy I as well as his marriages to daughters of that family. Between the twenty-​fifth and thirty-​fifth years of his reign, the office of the governor of the south was abolished; from that point forward, the title could be used by all the nomarchs of southern Egypt. All these local chiefs were subordinate to the “southern vizier.” The king had granaries built as centers for the collection of taxes in Thebes, Meir, and probably also Abydos. The nomarchs in the named nomes then acquired, quite logically, the title “overseer of the granaries.”181 In the second half of Pepy II’s rule, the nomarchs proceeded to bring the local priests under the control of their administration, as indicated by the new title “overseer of priests.” On the other hand, the nomarchs lost the title “overseer of the Southern Lands,” which was used only by the nomarch of Meir from this point onward.182 All these shifts in the use of important administrative titles and designations suggest that the state was constantly changing its strategy for governing the remote provinces in the south, and especially the manner in which it acquired tax payments in kind, mainly grain, from there. On the other hand, the fact that these measures were implemented uniformly

180. Bárta 2016a. 181. Kanawati 1980: 62–​87. 182. Kanawati 1980: 88–​99.

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indicates that the state had to relinquish a certain degree of power and a number of coercive instruments to the nomarchs. Yet until the end of the Old Kingdom, the Egyptian state remained strong enough to organize expeditions to the Sinai peninsula, Hatnub in the Eastern Desert, or to the more distant regions of Nubia, as documented by inscriptions with the names of the individual rulers or of persons charged with leading expeditions.183 The rich textual and archaeological evidence is discussed in detail in ­chapter 6. An interesting story dating to the middle of Pepy II’s reign is related by an official called Heqaib, who was buried in the cemetery of Qubbet el-​Hawa in Aswan. Heqaib was such a respected person that his mortuary cult was set up on the island of Elephantine and lasted for several generations. In his inscription, he describes how he was required to fight the Nubian tribes and to bring their chieftains along with a rich booty to the Residence. His narrative mentions also a rescue campaign to bring the body of the murdered Ankhti, who had been in charge of building boats for a planned mission to Punt, back to Egypt. This shows quite clearly what hostilities Egyptians could face abroad.184 Another important province where powerful and increasingly independent nomarchs operated was Edfu, the traditional center for the cult of the falcon god Horus. Edfu was a hub for expeditions departing for the Eastern Desert and also one of the few places in Upper Egypt where the Nile valley widened outward, creating a larger area of rich, fertile soil for agriculture. It was thus a major economic center, and keeping it under control was of preeminent interest to the king. One of the most prominent nomarchs was Isi who was appointed as provincial governor of Edfu under king Teti and married the king’s daughter Sesheshet Sathathor.185 His successor, his son Meryranefer Qar, was brought up at Teti’s court and started his administrative career under Pepy I. Eventually he replaced his father in the office of nomarch of Edfu

183. Eichler 1993. 184. Strudwick 2005: 335, no. 242. 185. Moreno García 1998.

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during the reign of Merenra. His biography provides a unique testimony to the relations between the provincial nomarchs and the king. This, like many other texts of the period, illustrates the steadily growing independence of local administrators and the simultaneous need on the part of the kings to fashion blood ties to them through marriages with their daughters. This, as will be seen, was one of the major instruments for retaining a certain measure of political stability, especially toward the end of the Old Kingdom. Another method employed by the king was to have children of the nobility brought up at court, thus assuring their loyalty: Then the majesty of Merenra had me go south, to the second nome of Upper Egypt as a sole companion and great chief of the nome and as overseer of the grain of Upper Egypt and overseer of priests, through my excellence and my noble status in the heart of (his) majesty. It fell to my lot to be the lord at the head of all the chiefs of the totality of Upper Egypt. I was the one who judged for the whole of Upper Egypt. I saw to it that the cattle of this nome were more (numerous) than the cattle in the stables of the foremost part of the whole of Upper Egypt. The fact is that it was not found that (anything comparable was done by) the chief who was previously in this nome; This was through my vigilance, through my excellence in controlling matters for the Residence. I was the keeper of secrets of all matters Which were brought from the narrow doors in the foreign lands. I gave bread to the hungry and clothes to the naked Whom I found in this nome. I gave a jug of milk from my own hand; I measured out the grain of Upper Egypt from my funerary estate for a hungry man whom I found in this nome; with regard to any man whom I found in this nome burdened down with a loan of grain from another,

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I paid back his creditor from my funerary estate. I buried every man of this nome who had no son. With linen from the property of my estate. I propitiated all foreign lands for the Residence In accordance with my excellence and in accordance with my vigilance in relation to this, and I was favored in respect of it by my Lord. I rescued the helpless one from one who was more powerful than he, and I judged litigants to their satisfaction.186 The bulk of this “me myself ” text relates to Meryranefer Qar’s duties in the province: he was in charge of taxing and acted as a superior judge and chief priest. At the same time, he makes it clear that it was only he who was responsible for his community and no one else. Possibly early in the reign of Pepy II, but very evidently by its end, one of the local chiefs in the southern part of Egypt, Khuy, nomarch of the Thirteenth Upper Egyptian nome, started inserting his name in a royal cartouche, unequivocally indicating that he considered himself to be an autocratic ruler. Moreover, he had himself buried in a tomb, located at the present-​day site of Dara, that conspicuously resembled a pyramid. It seems that Khuy brought the centers in Meir and Deir el-​ Gebrawi (Upper Egyptian nomes 8, 12, and 14), formerly governed by powerful local noble families, under his authority. If the time of Khuy is correctly dated—​and there has been little doubt about that so far—​ then this is indisputable proof that during the second part of Pepy II’s reign the symbolism of the royal office and its incontestability faced an unprecedented challenge.187 In the context of the growing power and influence of some nomarchs, it is very important to look at the specific geomorphology of some of the individual sections of the Nile between Aswan and Cairo, which are

186. Sethe 1903: I 251–​255; Moreno García 1998; Strudwick 2005: 342–​344. 187. Kamal 1912: 132, fig. 9; Weill 1958: 79; Kanawati and McFarlane 1992: 151–​152.

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quite varied. Besides Edfu (to which the ancient center of Hierakonpolis can be added), there are sections where the Nile valley widens significantly. Moving from the south to the north with Edfu as the point of departure, there is first the Great (Qena) Bend, with Thebes as its natural political center, then come Sohag (with its center in Abydos), Akhmim, Asyut, Minya, and finally the Fayum.188 What is also interesting is that these ancient centers have probably heavily influenced the modern division of territory south of Cairo, as proposed in 1889 by the French engineer J.  Barrois, as these ancient demarcations simply reflect the logic and the driving forces of landscape, environment, and geopolitics. It is therefore no surprise that these places were also important power centers during the Sixth Dynasty.189

5.5.5  Aftermath: the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties The Sixth Dynasty lasted for some 155  years. Its gradual degredation proceeded step by step, steadily eroding what had once been an invincible empire on the Nile. Pepy II’s demise around 2150 bc brought an abrupt end to the glorious Old Kingdom. However, many of the traits typically ascribed to the period persisted, though at a much lower level of complexity and with substantially weaker royal authority and minimized central authority as a whole. It is certainly not by chance that while throughout the Sixth Dynasty royal decrees principally focused on freeing the provincial temples from taxes, after the Sixth Dynasty this wasn’t an issue at all.190 Most approaches to the post–​Sixth Dynasty period in Egypt viewed it as a time of rapidly declining complexity and, especially, of disintegrating territorial integrity, in which the central government and country’s unification were lost. It became increasingly common for several political centers to exist simultaneously, and foreign ethnic groups frequently

188. Barrois 1889: pl. 1–​3; Lyons 1908: pl. 1. 189. Barrois 1889: pl. 1. 190. Bussmann 2010: 473.

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made short (or prolonged) incursions into Egyptian territory. This concept of a dark ages is clearly the consequence of modern conceptions of crisis being transplanted onto ancient Egyptian history. At the same time, one might also consider this period a “dark age” because this was an era in Egyptian history from which considerably fewer sources have come down to the present day. Historical sources relating to the post–​Sixth Dynasty period are biased. Manetho considered the Seventh Dynasty to be part of the Old Kingdom. During this period the throne changed owners seventy times in seventy days. The Turin King List saw the dividing line after the end of the Eighth Dynasty. It gave the total number of years of rule for the First to Fifth Dynasties, then for the Sixth to the Eighth Dynasties, and then provided a grand total.191 Thus, according to this source, the Old Kingdom continued after the reign of Pepy II. The list of Old Kingdom kings as preserved in the Abydos King List of Sety I also concludes with Pepy II. He was followed by seventeen rulers not attested in the Turin Royal Canon. These were in turn succeeded by Mentuhotep Nebhepetra II, founder of the Middle Kingdom. Finally, the Royal List of Saqqara, found in Tjenery’s tomb (kept in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo as CG 34516), also names Pepy II as the last king of the Old Kingdom. These data reveal significant discrepancies in historical sources detailing the exact length of the Old Kingdom. The shorter variant, with Pepy II as the last king of the Sixth Dynasty and, by default, of the Old Kingdom, has the end of the Old Kingdom coincide with the end of the construction of monumental royal tombs. The longer variant, incorporating the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties, is probably based on the premise that in spite of the evident decline in the quality and complexity of state administration and the diminishment of state resources, the tradition of a king ruling the country and of the construction of kings’ burials in the form of a pyramid complex continued, albeit on a much more limited scale. In the post–​Eighth Dynasty period there is no trace of any

191. Gardiner 1959.

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royal decree that would imply the survival of a single ruling power over the whole territory of Egypt.192 All sources for the period following the end of the Sixth Dynasty indicate that many important changes were taking place. The Sixth Dynasty can be characterized by a sequence of continuous changes with very few (or practically no) periods of stasis. In the end, this led to a qualitative leap, which was triggered by the demise of Pepy II. The weakened state was exposed to a series of critical problems, which included inter alia the large number of pretenders to the throne; weakened legitimacy; weakened central administration; declining economic resources due to inner dynamics (particularization of the spheres of interest, which prevented the efficient redistribution of resources); and external stress represented by climate change (the Bond event), which had a serious impact on the annual floods and thus the yearly production of crops, one of the main sources of economic wealth of the Old Kingdom state. Pepy I, who had seven, or even eight, wives,193 made perhaps too many political marriages with the primary objective of keeping the state going. The drawback of this policy was that it led to a political imbalance between the king and his court on one side and empowered interest groups in the provinces on the other. His son Pepy II’s long reign opened the way to many issues immediately following his death, primarily as a consequence of his own politics and policies. The large number of possible male competitors for his throne resulted in an intermezzo known as the Seventh Dynasty. Based on the tradition recorded by Manetho, there were seventy kings in the same number of days. Currently it seems more realistic that five rulers reigned during this historically unremarkable period.194 The following Eighth Dynasty can then be taken as the ultimate end of the Old Kingdom. This period lasted about thirty-​two years

192. Jansen-​ Winkeln 2010:  286–​ 287; for more detail on the decrees see Goedicke 1967. 193. Callender 2012: 344, Genealogy 6; Labrousse 2010. 194. Papazian 2015: 395.

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(2150–​2118 bc). Of Pepy II’s many sons, at least four became kings of this dynasty.195 There are still several relevant arguments for classifying the Eighth Dynasty within the Old Kingdom. The kings of both the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties continued to rule from Memphis. Some were ambitious to continue the tradition of constructing pyramid complexes, mainly in South Saqqara. There are also indications that during this period the southern provinces—​at least some of them—​still remained loyal to Memphis. This was probably due to the traditionally close link between the ruling Sixth Dynasty kings and the Abydene family. The Abydos King List names seventeen rulers of the Eighth Dynasty, and most of them are attested by other historical sources.196 Several kings on the Abydos King List can be considered the direct descendants of Pepy II Neferkara. Altogether five rulers of the Eighth Dynasty chose the name Neferkara as part of their titulary to refer to Pepy II Neferkara, emphasizing their historical and political continuity. Nebi was the son of Pepy II and Ankhnespepy IV. He is one of the few rulers known for initiating construction of the pyramid complex named Djedankhneferkara.197 There is Nemtyemsaf (Merenra II), also the son of Pepy II and queen Neith, and Neferkara, son of Pepy II and Ankhnespepy III, or Neferkara Pepyseneb (“Little Pepy”). His name probably referred to his father, Pepy II. Therefore Pepyseneb can be considered one of the early Eighth Dynasty rulers.198 A well-​known king was Kakara Ibi, who had a pyramid complex built near the causeway of Pepy II.199 Political marriages continued to play a prominent role in the life of the Abydene officials of the period. Nebet, daughter of the Eighth Dynasty king Neferkauhor, married the Abydene official Shemai.200 The 195. Callender 2012: 344, Genealogy 7; Labrousse 2010. 196. Papazian 2015. 197. Jéquier 1933: 53, fig. 31. 198. Papazian 2015: 414–​415 and 416 Table 10.2. 199. Jéquier 1935; Verner 2008: 294. 200. Fischer 1964: 35–​38.

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numerous personal names in this Abydos family, such as Khuy, Shemai, Idi, and Nebet, are a strong argument for assuming that this local family was an important ally in protecting the interests of the throne south of Memphis.201 A large number of royal decrees issued by Neferkauhor in favor of Abydos dignitaries and the local temple of the god Khentimentiu also represent a major argument for forging this alliance.202 Neferkauhor also supported Shemai’s son, Idi, in the office of governor of southern Egypt, whose primary task was to control and administer the First to Seventh Upper Egyptian nomes.203 Some other important centers, such as Moalla, developed close to Abydos. With this in mind, it is interesting to note that the Abydene governor of southern Egypt had to travel with his council, qenebet, to Moalla, to have a meeting with the local ruler Hetep.204 This Hetep was the father of Ankhtifi, one of the most important independent chiefs of southern Egypt during the First Intermediate Period.205 At least three pyramid complexes were built during the Eighth Dynasty, as indicated by their known names.206 The archaeological evidence is even more meager. In fact, only one complex in South Saqqara can be ascribed to Kakara Ibi. The side length of the base of Kakara’s pyramid measured only 31.5 m, which is less than half the size of the pyramid of Pepy II. This clearly shows the sudden drop in complexity and resources available to the waning state during this period. In conclusion, it can be said that the short duration of the Seventh Dynasty was no doubt the consequence of the sudden political vacuum that arose in the absence of an undisputed successor to the throne. The dynasty that followed maintained a limited stability, with several rulers who, as descendants of Pepy II, ostensibly continued the dynastic 201. Papazian 2015. 202. Goedicke 1967: 165–​213. 203. Goedicke 1967: 178–​183. 204. Kanawati and McFarlane 1992: 157–​162. 205. Bárta 2003: 77–​81. 206. Papazian 2015: 420 Table 10.3.

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tradition. Despite all this, some elements of Sixth Dynasty rule were sustained through the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties. This is the primary reason for considering these two dynasties as a continuation of the Old Kingdom, however weak and unstable they may have been.

5.6.  The non-​royal elites Official historical records, monumental architecture, and artworks often privilege the role of the king and his family. But the key roles played by other members of the elite are best highlighted by their administrative titles, a very rich resource that, despite considerable efforts by generations of scholars, remains an underexplored field of research.207 According to Dilwyn Jones, there are 3,756 attested Old Kingdom titles, including their variants, and this number is still slowly growing.208 Where major historical events are concerned, these titles provide perhaps the best support for elucidating the particular circumstances that accompanied them. Sometimes it is not the major offices but only the rare, largely unexplored titles that assume relevance when considered within the more general context of the period. The titles “keeper of Nekhen” and “priest of Maat” appear in the first half of the Fifth Dynasty and can be seen as a major political tool used by Fifth Dynasty kings. The beginning of this dynasty was marked by Userkaf ’s weak claim to the throne. Therefore, the king needed allies in the form of a group of loyal dignitaries. This is why it was most likely Userkaf who created the special group of high officials with the title “keeper of Nekhen.”209 The bearers of this title usually served at the royal court and/​or the court of justice. Today thirty-​six bearers of the title are known, who between them also held seventy-​five other titles. The most common of these additional titles were “priest of Maat” (twelve references) and “elder of the h3yt-​hall” (twelve references). An interesting

207. Helck 1954; Baer 1960; Strudwick 1985; Piacentini 2002. 208. Jones 2000. 209. Bárta 2013b.

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point is that their distribution in time indicates that this was an individual office. In other words, there was only one dignitary with this title in office at any time. However, this situation may have changed during the course of the Sixth Dynasty, especially in view of the large number of known holders. There is likely an important link between the title “keeper of Nekhen,” which emphasizes the status of Nekhen (Hierakonpolis), and the sun complex of Userkaf, whose name, Nekhen-​ra, could equally be translated as “Stronghold of Ra” or as “Hierakonpolis of Ra.” Finally, the third element in this reflection is Nekhen itself: the Upper Egyptian city of Hierakonpolis, one of the most important centers of Egypt at the threshold of its unification and the center of the cult of the protector of Upper Egypt, the god Horus, whose importance lasted throughout the Old Kingdom. It appears that Userkaf needed to connect himself to Nekhen in a variety of ways to foster his legitimacy. The title “speaker of Nekhen” appears in parallel with the title “priest of Maat.”210 This title appears early in the Fifth Dynasty and assumed very quickly an important place in the titularies of the high officials of the state administration. In total, eighty-​four officials are known to have held the title, most them (68 percent) dated to the Fifth Dynasty or to the transitional period between the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties. Implicit in this title is the idea that its bearers were responsible for establishing and maintaining order in the name of the goddess of order and justice, as undertaken by the king, who was the superior executor of the goddess’s will on earth. It is important to note the incorporation of the divine name Maat into the Horus names of both Userkaf and Sneferu. From this it is evident that the consolidation or reintroduction of Maat by the king and priests who promoted Maat was one of the axioms of the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty. Of course one can consider these priests to have been an extension of the arm of any ruler who claimed allegiance to Maat. They were therefore a very specific group of people close to the

210. Bárta 2013b.

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king, who enforced the interests of the ruling elite with the king at its head.211 Thus this was a specific group of dignitaries formed at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty in connection with new religious-​political circumstances in the country, with the obvious role of providing support to the king. They were assisted in this especially by religious references to the order of the goddess Maat; by the concept of the ancient religious center of Horus at Hierakonpolis; and by the newly emerging form of monumental architecture, in Userkaf ’s case represented by his sun temple. Their primary objective was to cement the legitimacy of the king and of the new dynasty. Another example of specific historical events reflected in official titles is the appellation “keeper of secrets,” which can be specifically related to the spread of the Old Kingdom state administration, starting from the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty. Based on research published by Rydström in 1994, only eleven such title holders are known in the late Fourth Dynasty. The situation changed drastically at the outset of the Fifth Dynasty. From this point onward there was an explosion of the title, as at least ninety-​six holders are currently known, and there is no doubt that ongoing excavations on the pyramid fields will see this number grow.212 Based on the context of the title and the fact that many of its holders performed their service close to the king, this title was widely used to express their obligation to stay loyal and discreet in view of the sensitivity of the royal environment. Prior to the Fifth Dynasty, the duty to keep the secrets of the king did not need to be explicitly expressed, as this would have been self-​evident to the members of the royal family. In contrast to the titles discussed so far, the office of the vizier was indisputably the highest in the state. The vizier was the physical representative of the king and his first official. As such, this office also amply reflects the changing nature of Egyptian society in the Old Kingdom. The first reliable information is attested from the early Fourth Dynasty,

211. Bárta 2013b; Bárta and Dulíková 2019. 212. Rydström 1994.

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starting with the reign of Sneferu. The first known vizier with an identified tomb and titles was Nefermaat, who was buried in Meidum.213 Until the early Fifth Dynasty, this position was held only by the members of the royal family. In accordance with this, their titles expressed their ultimate relationship with the king. During the Fourth Dynasty, therefore, viziers maintained highly honorific titles demonstrating their elevated status and extraordinary position. Among them were titles such as “prince, noble, the unique friend, son of the king” and “sealer of the king.” Other titles included “great one of the five in the House of Thot,” and some of them acted as “inspector of the palace” or “overseer of all royal works”.214 In accord with the changes at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, even the office of the vizier began to be held by officials of non-​royal origin. It was only at this point that Egyptian society entered a full-​ fledged stage in which the role of the king was greater, the administration became more formal and complex, and the country became more integrated (let us avoid using the term “centralized”).215 The first known non-​royal viziers were Duaenra, Seshathetep Heti, and Babaef.216 The office of the vizier began to reflect its real, statewide duties, and in their titles viziers expressed their superior jurisdiction over legal matters, scribes, state archives, central granaries, and the treasury. They were also in charge of all royal building works. In this way the five basic pillars of the Egyptian state were codified: jurisdiction, record keeping, tax collection, storage and redistribution of various products, and state-​sponsored building projects.217 Yet despite the general impression of an avalanche of officials entering the state apparatus from the early Fifth Dynasty onward, it has been estimated that the size of the ruling elite at one time did not surpass

213. Petrie 1892. 214. Bárta 2013c: 164. 215. Popitz 1986: 42. On centralization see Warden 2014. 216. Strudwick 1985: 312–​313. 217. Strudwick 1985: 313–​315.

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about 150 officials.218 This is perhaps even too high an estimate, given the evidence currently known from Old Kingdom cemeteries belonging to the elites. Another major stage in the development of the office of the vizier had taken place by the end of the Fifth Dynasty. Given the developing nepotism and rising power of individual officials, Djedkara installed two viziers who executed their duties in parallel, one based in Memphis and one in the provinces.219 This two-​vizier policy was followed by Teti, and during his reign the seat of one of the viziers was in Edfu. Eventually Pepy II gave the office to the family of the powerful Abydene official Khuy, as part of his policy of buying loyalty.220 The office of the vizier also reflects the fluctuating complexity of the state administration. During the Fourth Dynasty a vizier could hold three to thirty-​five different titles. During the Fifth Dynasty, the maximum number of titles held by one vizier was twenty-​six (with the exception of Kai, who held fifty-​one). The greatest numbers of titles were held by several viziers at the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty, probably the action of a king who attempted to concentrate as much power as possible in the hands of just a few of his highest officials (most of whom were also married to his daughters). Thus Kagemni held fifty titles, Mereruka eighty, and Khentika Ikhekhi fifty-​three. After this period, the number of titles dropped abruptly, and only two viziers from the very end of the Old Kingdom held such a high number of titles again.221

5.7.  Conclusions We can see that during the Seventh and Eighth Dynasties the disintegration of the country continued in response to the growing influence of several powerful families in the provinces. The treasury also had to

218. Baines and Eyre 1983: 66–​67. 219. Helck 1954: 134–​142. 220. Bárta 2013c: 172–​173. 221. Bárta 2013c: 174.

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face a decrease in incoming revenues. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that around 2118 bc the traditional concept of the Old Kingdom—​with a king at the top of a highly centralized administration, having indisputable legitimacy and unchallenged superiority, supported by ideology, and backed by a strong economy that relied on the annual Nile flood—​faced an abrupt end. This end was preceded by a long period of deteriorating climate, which probably started as early as during the latter half of the Fifth Dynasty.222 The long-​term impacts of internal dynamics and external factors led to the final demise of the sophisticated system, which was no longer able to sustain itself.223 As a consequence, the country was exposed to political and economic fragmentation similar to that of the pre-​unification stage. Individual parts of the country were dominated by influential local families, and the former territory of the Old Kingdom state plunged into the era of decreased complexity called the First Intermediate Period.224 A comprehensive assessment of the long-​term trajectories in Old Kingdom development shows clearly that there was no silver bullet that led to the ultimate demise of this first state in Egyptian history. Its downfall was the consequence of a combination of several inner factors that developed according to Heraclitus’s law,225 which states that the same, originally positive factors that instigate positive evolution within a system eventually turn into negative ones. Thus if one aims to understand the principal causes for a system’s crisis and collapse, it is necessary to analyze that system’s incipient stage and look for those factors that were initially positive. In the case of the Old Kingdom, these originally positive factors included the rising bureaucracy, the penetration into the administration by non-​royal officials, the growing complexity of the state, religious innovations and the introduction of the Osiris cult, the symbolic role of the elites, and competition for social status. All these factors

222. Bunbury 2010; Bárta 2015b. 223. Homer-​Dixon 2006; Müller-​Wollermann 1986; Bárta 2020. 224. Seidlmayer 1990. 225. Bárta 2019.

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eventually became negative, contributing to diminishing returns, a crisis of legitimacy on the part of the king, the increase in mandatory expenses due to hypertrophy of the state apparatus, the rise of interest groups, and the usurpation of power and wealth. All of these factors, in combination with climatic instability, led to a sudden drop in the system’s complexity. Finally, it may also be observed that most of the vital changes essential to Old Kingdom development were not evenly distributed along an evolutionary diachronic trajectory. Quite the opposite: they were concentrated in several historically brief periods, and their mutual interplay led to abrupt changes in the setup of the society. We can see that this series of events can be linked to several well-​known kings from Egyptian history: Netjerikhet/​Djoser, Sneferu, Shepseskaf/​Userkaf, Nyuserra, Unas/​ Teti, and Pepy II. This evidence enables us to view the history of the Old Kingdom, and historical processes in general, from the perspective of punctuated equilibria theory.226 The advantage of such an approach is that it makes it possible to view the appearance of certain phenomena, and the irregular flow of history, from a complex and comprehensive perspective in which different sorts of specific evidence assume a more general relevance to the processes of deep history. This is why the study of complex societies of the past, their inner processes, and their resilience is so relevant, even to our modern civilization. R ef er en c es Allen, J.P. 1986. The Pyramid texts of queens Jpwt and Wdbt-​n.(j). JARCE 23: 1–​25. Allen, J.P. 2005. The ancient Egyptian pyramid texts. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Altenmüller, H. 1974. Zur Vergöttlichung des Königs Unas im Alten Reich. SAK 1: 1–​18. Andrássy, P. 2008. Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Staat des Alten Reiches und seinen Institutionen. London: Golden House.

226. Bárta 2015a; 2016b.

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Arnold, F. 2016. Der Pyramidentempel als Ritualschauplatz: eine Spurensuche im Tal der Knickpyramide. Sokar 33: 6–​15. Assmann, J. 2011. Steinzeit und Sternenzeit:  Altägyptische Zeitkonzepte. Paderborn: Fink. Baer, K. 1960. Rank and title in the Old Kingdom: the structure of the Egyptian administration in the fifth and sixth dynasties. Chicago:  University of Chicago Press. Baines, J. and Eyre, C.J. 1983. Four notes on literacy. GM 61: 65–​96. Baines, J. and Yoffee, N. 1998. Order, legitimacy, and wealth in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. In Feinman, G.M. and Marcus, J. (eds.), Archaic states. Santa Fe, NM: School for Advanced Research Press, 199–​260. Barrois, J. 1889. Irrigation in Egypt. Washington D.C.: Government Printing Office. Bárta, M. 1995. Pottery inventory and the beginning of the IVth Dynasty. GM 149: 15–​24. Bárta, M. 2000.The mastaba of Ptahshepses Junior II at Abusir. ÄL 10: 45–​66. Bárta, M. 2003. Sinuhe, the Bible and the Patriarchs. Prague: Set Out. Bárta, M. 2005a. Location of the Old Kingdom pyramids in Egypt. CAJ 15: 177–​191. Bárta, M. 2005b. Architectural innovations in the development of the non-​ royal tomb during the reign of Nyuserra. In Jánosi, P. (ed.), Structure and significance: thoughts on ancient Egyptian architecture. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 105–​130. Bárta, M. 2005c. The transitional type of tomb at Saqqara North and Abusir South. In Seidlmayer, S.J. (ed.), Texte und Denkmäler des ägyptischen Alten Reiches. Berlin: Achet Verlag, 69–​89. Bárta, M. 2006. Non-​ royal tombs of the Old Kingdom at Abusir. In Benešovská, H. and Vlčková, P. (eds.), Abúsír: Tajemství pouště a pyramid/​ Abusir: secrets of the desert and the pyramids. Prague: National Museum, 122–​145. Bárta, M. 2009. A mistake for the afterlife? In Rzeuska, T. and Wodzińska, A. (eds.), Studies on Old Kingdom pottery. Warsaw:  Wydawnictwo Neriton,  43–​48. Bárta, M. 2010. Tomb of Hetepi (AS 20). In Bárta, M., Vymazalová, H. and Coppens, F. (eds.), Abusir XIX: tomb of Hetepi (AS 20), tombs AS 33–​35 and AS 50–​53. Prague: Charles University, 3–​24.

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Jenkins, N.H. 1980. The boat beneath the pyramid:  King Cheops’ royal ship. London: Thames & Hudson. Jéquier, G. 1933. Les pyramides des reines Neit et Apouit. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Jéquier, G. 1935. Fouilles à Saqqarah: la pyramide d’Aba. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Jones, D. 2000. An index of ancient Egyptian titles, epithets and phrases of the Old Kingdom. Oxford: Archaeopress. Junker, H. 1934. Giza II: die Mastabas der beginnenden V. Dynastie auf dem Westfriedhof. Vienna: Hölder-​Pichler-​Tempsky. Kahl, J., Kloth, N. and Zimmermann, U. 1995. Die Inschriften der 3. Dynastie: eine Bestandsaufnahme. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Kaiser, W. 1956. Zu den Sonnenheiligtümern der 5.  Dynastie. MDAIK 14: 104–​116. Kaiser, W. and Dreyer, G. 1980. Zu den kleinen Stufenpyramiden Ober-​und Mittelägyptens. MDAIK 36: 43–​59. Kaiser, W., Dreyer, G., Jaritz, H., Krekeler, A., Schläger, T. and Ziermann, M. 1987. Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine:  13./​14. Grabungsbericht. MDAIK 43: 75–​114. Kamal, B. 1912. Fouilles à Dara et à Qoçéîr El-​Amarna. ASAE 12: 128–​142. Kanawati, N. 1980. Governmental reforms in Old Kingdom Egypt. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Kanawati, N. 2003. Conspiracies in the Egyptian palace: Unis to Pepy I. London and New York: Routledge. Kanawati, N. 2011. Decorated burial chambers of the Old Kingdom. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press. Kanawati, N. and McFarlane A. 1992. Akhmim in the Old Kingdom. Sydney: Australian Centre for Egyptology. Krejčí, J. 2009. Abusir XI:  the architecture of the mastaba of Ptahshepses. Prague: Charles University. Kuhlmann, K.-​P. 2005. Der “Wasserberg des Djedefre” (Chufu 01/​1):  ein Lagerplatz mit Expeditionsinschriften der 4. Dynastie im Raum der Oase Dachla. MDAIK 61: 243–​289. Labrousse, A. 2010. Huit epouses du roi Pépy Ier. In Woods, A., McFarlane, A. and Binder, S. (eds.), Egyptian culture and society: studies in honour of Naguib Kanawati. Cairo: Conseil suprême des antiquitiés, 297–​314.

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Labrousse, A. 2015. Héritiers de Mariette. In Legros, R. (ed.), Cinquante ans d’éternité:  jubilé de la Mission Archéologique Française de Saqqâra. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 1–​8. Labrousse, A. and Albouy, M. 1999. Les Pyramides des reines:  une nouvelle nécropole à Saqqâra. Paris: Hazan. Legros, R. (ed.) 2015. Cinquante ans d’éternité: jubilé de la Mission archéologique française de Saqqâra (1963–​2013). Cairo:  Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Lehner, M. 2000. Fractal house of pharaoh: ancient Egypt as a complex adaptive system, a trial formulation. In Kohler, T.A. and Gumerman, G.J. (eds.), Dynamics in human and primate societies: agent-​based modeling of social and spatial processes. New York: Oxford University Press, 275–​353. Lehner, M. 2008. The complete pyramids. London: Thames & Hudson. Lehner, M. and Hawass, Z. 2017. Giza and the pyramids: the definitive history. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lepper, V.M. 2008. Untersuchungen zu pWestcar: eine philologische und literaturwissenschaftliche (Neu)-​Analyse. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Lyons, H.G. 1908. The cadastral survey of Egypt, 1892–​1907. Cairo: Ministry of Finance. Macklin, M.G. et  al. 2015. A new model of river dynamics, hydroclimatic change and human settlement in the Nile valley derived from meta-​ analysis of the Holocene fluvial archive. QSR 130: 109–​123. Marouard, G. and Papazian H. 2012. The Edfu Pyramid project: recent investigation at the last unexplored provincial step pyramid. Oriental Institute News and Notes 213: 3–​9. Mathieu, B. 2010. Mais qui est donc Osiris? Ou la politique sous le linceul de la religion. Égypte Nilotique et Méditerranéenne 3: 77–​107. Megahed, M., Jánosi, P. and Vymazalová, H. 2017. Neues von der Pyramidenanlage des Djedkare-​Isesi. Sokar 34: 36–​63. Mitchell, P. 2008. Practising archaeology at a time of climatic catastrophe. Antiquity 82: 1093–​1103. Moeller, N. 2005. The First Intermediate Period: a time of famine and climate change? ÄL 15: 153–​167. Morales, A. 2006. Traces of official and popular veneration to Nyuserra Iny at Abusir: late Fifth Dynasty to the Middle Kingdom. In Bárta, M., Krejčí, J. and Coppens, F. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2005. Prague: Charles University, 311–​341.

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Posener-​Kriéger, P. 1976. Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-​Kakaï (Les papyrus d’Abousir): traduction et commentaire. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Redding, R.W. 2013. A tale of two sites:  Old Kingdom subsistence economy and the infrastructure of pyramid construction. In De Cupere, B., Linseele, V. and Hamilton-​Dyer, S. (eds.), Archaeozoology of the Near East 10: proceedings of the tenth international symposium on the archaeozoology of south-​western Asia and adjacent areas. Leuven: Peeters, 307–​322. Redford, D.B. 1986. Pharaonic king-​lists, annals, and day-​books: a contribution to the study of the Egyptian sense of history. Mississauga, ON: Benben. Regev, J. et  al. 2016. Chronology of the Early Bronze Age in the southern Levant: new analysis for a high chronology. Radiocarbon 54: 525–​566. Regulski, I. 2010. A palaeographic study of early writing in Egypt. Leuven: Peeters. Reisner, G.A. 1931. Mycerinus:  the temples of the third pyramid at Giza. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. Reisner, G.A. and Smith, W.S. 1955. A history of the Giza necropolis, II: the tomb of Hetep-​heres, the mother of Cheops. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rheidt, K. and Schwander, E.L. (eds.) 2004. Macht der Architektur—​ Architektur der Macht:  Diskussionen zur archäologischen Bauforschung. Mainz: Zabern. Ricke, H. 1965. Das Sonnenheiligtum des Königs Userkaf:  der Bau. Cairo: Schweizerisches Institut für Ägyptische Bauforschung und Altertumskunde. Ricke, H. 1969. Das Sonnenheiligtum des Königs Userkaf:  die Funde. Cairo: Schweizerisches Institut für Ägyptische Bauforschung und Altertumskunde. Roth, A.M. 1988. The organization of royal cemeteries at Saqqara in the Old Kingdom. JARCE 25: 201–​214. Roth, A.M. 1993. Social change in the Fourth Dynasty: the spatial organization of pyramids, tombs, and cemeteries. JARCE 30: 33–​55. Rydström, K.T. 1994. HRY SŠTA “in charge of secrets”: the 3000-​year evolution of a title. DE 28: 53–​94. Schmitz, B. 1976. Untersuchungen zum Titel s3-​njswt, “Königssohn”. Bonn:  Habelt. Scott, J. 2008. Modes of power and the reconceptualisation of elites. In Svage, M. (ed.), Remembering elites. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 27–​43.

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Seidlmayer, S.J. 1990. Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich:  Studien zur Archäologie der Ersten Zwischenzeit. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. Seidlmayer, S.J. 1996. Town and state in the early Old Kingdom: a view from Elephantine. In Spencer, J. (ed.), Aspects of early Egypt. London:  British Museum Press, 108–​127. Seidlmayer, S.J. 2001. Historische und moderne Nilstände:  Untersuchungen zu den Pegelablesungen des Nils von der Frühzseit bis in die Gegenwart. Berlin: Achet Verlag. Sethe, K. 1903. Urkunden des Alten Reichs. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Shady, R. and Kleihege, C. 2008. Caral:  la primera civilización de América. Lima: Universidad de San Martín de Porres. Simpson, W.K. 1978. The Mastabas of Kawab, Khafkhufu I  and II:  G 7110–​20, 4130–​40, and 7150 and subsidiary mastabas of Street G 7100. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. Sinclair, N. 2013. The development and decline of provincial rule from the Old to the Middle Kingdom:  an analysis of the tombs and titles of the senior officials of Upper Egypt. MA thesis, Macquarie University, Sydney. Retrieved from http://​hdl.handle.net/​1959.14/​304956 (last accessed 11 March 2020). Smith, M. 2009. Democratization of the afterlife. In Dieleman, J. and Wendrich, W. (eds.), UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology. Los Angeles: University of California, Los Angeles. Retrieved from http://​digital2. library.ucla.edu/​viewItem.do?ark=21198/​zz001nf62b (last accessed 11 March 2020). Smith, M. 2017. Following Osiris: perspectives on the Osirian afterlife from four millennia. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Smith, M.E., Feinman, G.M., Drennan, R.D., Earle, T. and Morris, I. 2012. Archaeology as a social science. PNAS 109: 7617–​7621. Smith, W.S. 1946. A history of Egyptian sculpture and painting in the Old Kingdom. London: Cumberlege. Sowada, K. 2009. Egypt in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Old Kingdom: an archaeological perspective. Fribourg:  Academic Press/​ Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Sowada, K. 2018 Hidden exports:  a likely Early Bronze Age exchange in Egyptian cattle to the Levant. BACE 26: 71–​78. Spalinger, A. 1994. Dated texts of the Old Kingdom. SAK 21: 275–​319.

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Stadelmann, R. 1985. Die ägyptischen Pyramiden:  vom Ziegelbau zum Weltwunder. Mainz: Zabern. Stadelmann, R. 1990. Die großen Pyramiden von Giza. Graz:  Akademische Druck-​und Verlagsanstalt. Stadelmann R. 1994. König Teti und der Beginn der 6. Dynastie. In Berger, C., Clerc, G. and Grimal, N. (eds.), Hommages à Jean Leclant, I: études pharaoniques. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 327–​335. Stadelmann, R. 2000. Userkaf in Saqqara und Abusir: Untersuchungen zur Thronfolge in der 4. und frühen 5. Dynastie. In Bárta, M. and Krejčí, J. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2000. Prague: Charles University, 529–​542. Stanley, J.D., Krom, M.D., Cliff, R.A. and Woodward, J. 2003. Nile failure at the end of the Old Kingdom, Egypt:  strontium isotopic and petrologic evidence. Geoarchaeology 18: 395–​402. Stasser, T. 2013. La mère royale Seshseshet et les débuts de la VIe dynastie. Brussels: Editions Safran. Strudwick, N.C. 1985. The administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom:  the highest titles and their holders. London: KPI. Strudwick, N.C. 2005. Texts from the Pyramid Age. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature Press. Swelim, N.M.A. 1983. Some problems on the history of the Third Dynasty. Alexandria: Archaeological Society of Alexandria. Tallet, P. 2017. Les papyrus de la Mer Rouge, I: le “journal de Merer” (papyrus Jarf A et B). Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Vachala, B. 1991. Zur Frage der Kriegsgefangenen in Ägypten: Überlegungen anhand der schriftlichen Quellen des Alten Reiches. In Endesfelder, E. (ed.), Probleme der frühen Gesellschaftsentwicklung im alten Ägypten. Berlin: Humboldt-​Universität zu Berlin, 93–​101. Vachala, B. 2004. Abusir VIII:  die Relieffragmente aus der Mastaba des Ptahschepses in Abusir. Prague: Charles University. Valbelle, D. and Bonnet, C. 1996. Le sanctuaire d’Hathor, maîtresse de la turquoise: Sérabit el-​Khadim au Moyen Empire. Paris: Picard. Vallogia, M. 2011. Abou Rawash I:  le complexe funéraire royal de Rêdjedef. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Van de Walle, B. 1978. La chapelle funéraire de Neferirtenef. Brussels: Musées royaux d’art et d’histoire.

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Verner, M. 1977. Abusir I: the mastaba of Ptahshepses –​ reliefs. Prague: Charles University. Verner, M. 2000. Newly discovered royal sarcophagi from Abusir. In Bárta, M. and Krejčí, J. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2000. Prague: Charles University, 561–​580. Verner, M. 2001. The pyramids: a complete guide. New York: Grove Press. Verner, M. 2002. Abusir:  realm of Osiris. Cairo:  American University in Cairo Press. Verner, M. 2008. Pyramidy. Prague: Academia. Verner, M. 2014. Sons of the Sun:  rise and decline of the Fifth Dynasty. Prague: Charles University. Verner, M., Posener-​Kriéger, P. and Jánosi, P. 1995. Abusir III: the pyramid complex of Khentkaus. Prague: Academia. Verner, M., Posener-​Kriéger, P. and Vymazalová, H. 2006. Abusir X: the pyramid complex of Raneferef; the papyrus archive. Prague: Charles University. Verner, M. et al. 2006. Abusir IX: the pyramid complex of Raneferef; the archaeology. Prague: Academia. Waddell, W.G. 1940. Manetho. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Warden, L. A. 2014. Pottery and economy in Old Kingdom Egypt. Leiden: Brill. Weill, R. 1908. Les origines de l’Égypte pharaonique, vol. 1:  La IIe et la IIIe dynasties. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Weill, R. 1958. Dara: campagnes de 1946-​1948. Cairo: Organisme général des imprimeries gouvernementales. Weiss, H. 2017. Megadrought and collapse:  from early agriculture to Angkor. New York: Oxford University Press. Welc, F. and Marks, L. 2013. Climate change at the end of the Old Kingdom in Egypt around 4200 BP: new geoarchaeological evidence. QI 324: 124–​133. Wenke, R.J., Redding, R.W. and Cagle, A. 2016. Kom El-​Hisn (ca. 2500–​ 1900 bc):  an ancient settlement in the Nile Delta of Egypt. Atlanta, GA: Lockwood Press. Werner, K. et  al. 1987. Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine:  13./​ 14. Grabungsbericht. MDAIK 43: 75–​114. Wild, H. 1953. Le tombeau de Ti, 2: la chapelle, première partie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Wild, H. 1966. Le tombeau de Ti, 3: la chapelle, deuxième partie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale.

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Wildung, D. 1969. Die Rolle ägyptischer Könige im Bewußtsein ihrer Nachwelt, Band 1:  posthume Quellen über die Könige der ersten vier Dynastien. Berlin: Hessling. Wildung, D. 1977. Imhotep und Amenhotep: Gottwerdung im alten Ägypten. Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag. Wilkinson, T. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London and New York: Routledge. Wilkinson, T. 2000. Royal annals of ancient Egypt: the Palermo Stone and its associated fragments. London: Kegan Paul International. Willems, H. 2008. Les textes des sarcophages et la démocratie: éléments d’un histoire culturelle du Moyen Empire égyptien. Paris: Cybele. Winter, E. 1957. Zur Deutung der Sonnenheiligtümern der 5.  Dynastie. WZKM 54: 222–​233. Zecchi, M. 2001. Geografia religiosa del Fayyum: dalle origini al IV. secolo a.C. Imola: La Mandragora. Ziegler, C. 1997. Les statues égyptiennes de l’Ancien Empire. Paris: Louvre.

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Egypt’s Old Kingdom in Contact with the World Pierre Tallet

6.1.  Introduction From the end of the Predynastic period (­chapter 4), the unified Egyptian state pursued a policy toward the regions bordering the Lower Nile valley that can be described as interventionist.1 This included attempts to take direct control of important trade routes to Nubia2 as well as to the Near East,3 and to capture people through raids in order to command the necessary workforce to develop the country under direct Egyptian control. This interventionist policy was accompanied from the very beginning by the intensive exploitation of the desert regions surrounding Egypt in order to procure the stone necessary for the monumental royal building program.4

1. This chapter was translated from the original French by Nadine Moeller and Karen Radner. 2. Wilkinson 1999: 175–​182; Somaglino and Tallet 2014. 3. Wilkinson 1999: 151–​159; Sowada 2009: 50–​54. 4. Wilkinson 1999: 167–​174; Castel et al. 1998; Tallet 2012. Pierre Tallet, Egypt’s Old Kingdom in Contact with the World In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0007.

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By the mid-​First Dynasty the engagement outside of the Egyptian borders had declined,5 for reasons that are unclear. However, by the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, at the start of the Old Kingdom, this engagement was renewed and even intensified. During this period, the Egyptian state underwent significant development and a considerable change of scale in the realization of royal funeral complexes, which now included monumental stone construction. Thus, the pyramids built at Meidum and Dahshur by king Sneferu and at Giza by his successors Khufu and Khafra are veritable mountains of stone whose height typically exceeded 100 m, built of millions of limestone blocks.6 Their construction required enormous quantities of labor and raw materials, sourced from every territory under Egypt’s control and beyond. The kings of this period used every means at their disposal to increase their influence over the regions close to Egypt (see fi ­ gure 6.1). Regions suitable for mining metals and gemstones as well as for quarrying stone for construction of monuments were the destination for regular expeditions, which required rigorous logistical organization. The most remote corners of the deserts bordering the Nile valley were thoroughly traveled, inventoried, and systematically exploited during this period. Gold and copper were sourced from the Eastern Desert and Lower Nubia, grauwacke in the Wadi Hammamat region, anorthositic gneiss at Toshka in the Libyan desert, pigments from the Dakhla oasis, and basalt from the periphery of the Fayum. The southern region of the Sinai peninsula is particularly rich in copper ore and precious minerals and was the destination for regular exploitation campaigns organized in the manner of military expeditions. We can observe from the beginning of the Old Kingdom period a pronounced desire to open up the country to the rest of the world, in particular in respect to the maritime routes. The Red Sea saw the development of maritime trade to its southernmost banks and from there to the region bordering the Bab el-​Mandab strait, where the country of 5. Especially concerning contact with the Near East, cf. Miroschedji 2015: 1025–​1026. 6. For the dimensions of these pyramids and the volume of stone necessary for their construction see Lehner 1997: 17.

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Figure  6.1a.  Sites mentioned in c­ hapter  6. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

Punt was probably located. In the same manner, the Egyptians asserted their presence in the eastern Mediterranean throughout this period. In addition to trade, Egypt also carried out military interventions in the regions on its frontiers, intended to protect the state from invasion—​a threat that may have grown stronger during the final phase of the Old Kingdom, as suggested by the preserved tomb biographies of officials from this period.

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Figure 6.1b.   

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Figure 6.1c.   

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The sources currently available to us are often too limited to analyze the various aspects of the Old Kingdom’s involvement in areas outside the Nile valley in detail. The fragmentarily preserved Palermo Stone, which records in yearly accounts the most notable activities of the rulers from the First Dynasty to the middle of the Fifth Dynasty, when the monument was created, is frequently our only source of information for the events of this period.7 In addition to textual sources that have been available for a long time, archaeological discoveries have contributed much new data in recent decades, significantly expanding and modifying our picture of the foreign relations of the Old Kingdom.8

6.2.  The control and exploitation of Egypt’s marginal regions The intensive exploitation of the desert margins surrounding Egypt began in the Predynastic and Early Dynastic periods, spearheaded by “geological prospectors” (sementiu) who were responsible for identifying the location of minerals in the desert areas to the east and west of the Nile valley.9 These prospectors were regularly employed until the end of the Old Kingdom and sought metals and gemstones like carnelian or turquoise, as well as hard stone like travertine, diorite, and greywacke,

7. On the sources concerning Egyptian foreign policy during the Old Kingdom, their discontinuities, their possible biases, and the resultant difficulties in their interpretation see especially Schneider 2015 and Sowada 2009: 5–​24. 8. Valbelle 1990 was one of the first volumes to focus entirely on the subject of foreign policy; see more recently the thematically organized, edited volume of Creasman and Wilkinson 2017, which generally reserves little space to the Old Kingdom. For this period, the relationship between Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean coast has been studied in most detail; cf. Redford 1992. Recently there has been an increase in research on this topic, approaching the data also from new angles (Sowada 2009). Especially noteworthy is the extensive research conducted by Andrés Diego Espinel concerning the different aspects of Egypt’s external relationships, in particular Diego Espinel 2006. 9. Yoyotte 1975; Seyfried 1976.

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considered essential for the decoration of royal monuments.10 At many of the resource-​rich sites exploited by the Egyptians, expeditionary teams left behind traces of their activities, including official inscriptions that give us some insight into the chronology and conditions of these operations.

6.2.1  The Western Desert The vast expanse of the Libyan desert, which borders the Nile valley on the west, is a very hostile environment for humans. It is an arid area, battered by winds, where vegetation is scarce and the permanent settlement of human communities is almost impossible, except in the oases that punctuate this region; from south to north, these are Kharga, Dakhla, Farafra, and Bahariya, all of which were probably occupied by the Egyptians from the Old Kingdom period onward.11 The Egyptian state tried very early on to control this space, especially the overland routes to Nubia that bypassed the Nile valley and were therefore of great strategic importance. The area was first explored by Carlo Bergmann,12 a German adventurer who traveled throughout this region with camels for over twenty years. More systematic exploration was subsequently conducted by members of the Heinrich Barth Institute of the University of Cologne, namely Rudolph Kuper, Heiko Riemer, and Frank Förster.13 They were able to identify an extremely important route, the “Abu Ballas Trail,” which seems to have been in regular use from (at least) the last phase of the Old Kingdom onward. The Abu Ballas Trail enabled the transportation of goods across nearly 400 km of desert between the oasis of Dakhla and the Gilf el-​Kebir plateau, and it probably also extended an additional 200 km toward the Gebel Uweinat massif, rising to altitudes

10. Sowada 2009: 210–​233. 11. Giddy 1987: 161–​170; Willeitner 2003: 16–​17. 12. Bergmann 2001. 13. Kuhlmann 2002; Förster and Riemer 2013; Förster 2015.

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of more than 1,900 m and today situated on the border between Egypt, Sudan, and Libya. The Abu Ballas Trail was likely an alternative to the river route on the Nile for transporting products from sub-​Saharan Africa to Egypt. Using and maintaining this route was a logistical challenge:  at a time when domesticated camels were still unknown in northeastern Africa, only donkeys were capable of walking these tracks, and they needed frequent supplies of water. Therefore, a system of artificial watering points had to be created along the entire route. Large jars containing water were placed at each stopping point on the trail, allowing caravans to penetrate deep into the desert. It has been estimated that such caravans included as many as one hundred donkeys, carrying two to five tons of cargo.14 Operating this route required flawless organization; all these service stations had to be kept constantly supplied with water, and the ceramic jars had to be regularly renewed. Recent systematic exploration uncovered some 70 km southwest of the Dakhla oasis a sandstone outcrop with a series of inscriptions dated to the first half of the Fourth Dynasty, documenting the passage of Old Kingdom–​period caravans through this area. The inscriptions are engraved on the living rock and typically record the names of officials (“team inspectors,” sehedj setep-​sa) and dates, namely from the late reign of Khufu and of his successor Radjedef. The longest inscription indicates that the expedition was dispatched to look for a product called mefat, which some have identified as turquoise15 but was more likely a variety of pigment used for decorating (perhaps ocher).16 Traces of mining and significant habitation have been discovered at the foot of this rocky mound. The efficiency with which the Egyptians were able to identify the sources of desirable minerals, even in very remote, uninhabited regions, is remarkable and most likely depended on soliciting the help of local or nearby populations.

14. Förster 2015: 435–​448. 15. Roccati 2012. 16. Kuhlmann 2005.

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From the very beginning of the Old Kingdom, the Egyptian state exploited the site of Gebel el-​Asr in the Toshka region, located much farther south in the Western Desert at the same latitude as the later site of Abu Simbel. Anorthositic gneiss was extracted there, a variety of decorative stone that exhibits blue streaks under certain light and that the Egyptians deemed particularly well suited for royal statuary. An example of the use of this stone is the famous statue of Khafra, discovered in his valley temple at Giza and today on display in the Archaeological Museum of Cairo ( JE 10062). The exploration of the Gebel el-​Asr region in the 1930s brought attention to the monumental steles of Old Kingdom kings that had been cut in the quarries, including a slab inscribed with the name of Khufu, identifying the site’s name as “hemat-​khufu.” Other slabs inscribed with the names of Sahura and Djedkara Isesi demonstrate the intermittent use of these places during most of the Old Kingdom period.17 An 80 km long road connects the river to the quarries, where ramps were set up to load the stone blocks onto sledges.18 The Western Desert was well known to the Egyptians, probably since the very beginning of the Old Kingdom period. The foremost reason for colonizing the oases that interspersed this immense desert and provided essential stopping points along the routes traversing it was surely the desire to fully exploit the local mineral resources (even though they ultimately proved quite poor) and at the same time to control the expedition parties active there. But settling in the oases also created an opportunity to develop agriculture in these remote areas and to expand the territory directly controlled by the Egyptian state. As the excavations at

17. Engelbach 1933; 1938. 18. A comparable, but more elaborate, paved road was also built at the end of the Old Kingdom to serve the basalt quarries of Gebel el-​Qatrani/​Widan el-​Faras, north of the Fayum. This road permitted stone blocks to be transferred to Lake Qarun, located at the base of this depression, from where they could be transported to the Nile and then to their final destination. These basalt blocks were particularly used to pave the pyramid temple of Khufu at Giza:  Bloxam and Storemyr 2002; Harrell and Brown 1995.

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the site of Ayn el-​Gezareen show,19 the Egyptians already occupied the region by the time of the Fourth Dynasty. By the end of the Old Kingdom period, Dakhla oasis had undergone an important development under the leadership of the hereditary “governor of the oasis” (heqa wehat), who established the town of Balat (Ayn Asil) at the intersection of several tracks linking this depression to the Nile valley. At this time, this official still retained the designation “admiral” or “expedition chief ” (aper-​wia imy-​irty) in his title, as in earlier times when the region was being more sporadically explored. During the reigns of Pepy I and Pepy II, this official resided in a provincial palace at Balat that included ka chapels to ensure his personal cult (with the authorization of the central power), prestigious living quarters to house his family, and various outbuildings such as bakeries and storage facilities to ensure the proper functioning of the local administration.20 These local governors formed a proper dynasty, although their succession from father to son required approval from the reigning monarch. They were buried in mud-​brick mastaba tombs situated a few kilometers from Balat, with rich funerary equipment bearing their names, including statues, steles, toiletries, stone vessels, food offerings, and royal gifts, testifying to their high standard of living.21 The governors’ influence was exercised not only throughout Dakhla oasis, but also along the network of trade routes running through the Western Desert. This is indicated by their archives, which were also partially discovered during the excavation of the palace.22 Those archival records were kept on hundreds of clay tablets (a medium closely comparable to what was used in Mesopotamia and Syria at the same time) that the administrative staff of the palace inscribed in Hieratic. The five hundred or so records include accounts of food products and staff lists

19. Moeller 2016: 182–​186. 20. Soukiassian, Wuttman and Pantalacci 2002; Soukiassian 2013; Moeller 2016: 175–​182. 21. Castel, Pantalacci and Cherpion 2001; Valloggia 1998. 22. Soukiassian, Wuttman and Pantalacci 2002: 331–​364.

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as well as approximately fifty letters concerning the management of oasis agriculture. One document details the desert roads: “The servant present here says: let it be brought to the attention of the Director of the Roll who sits on the Council that the potter has not yet arrived at Rudjet, to prepare the road of the governor of Demiu. May the Ka of the Director of the Roll order that a potter be sent.”23 Although the toponyms mentioned in the letter are currently impossible to locate precisely, the reference to equipping the route with pottery clearly refers to the system of artificial water stations that have been identified all along the Abu Ballas Trail, the maintenance of which was the responsibility of the governor of Dakhla oasis during this period.24 At the end of the Sixth Dynasty, the palace of the governors at Dakhla oasis was looted and set on fire, under circumstances that remain unclear. The destruction mainly affected the palace’s most prestigious quarters, and damage was deliberately inflicted on the Ka chapels; the attack was clearly directed against the memory or commemoration of their governors’ dynasty. Was it an incursion of nomads? A local revolt? Or was it a struggle between different factions of the Egyptian state? The sacking of this site, which was one of the key structural supports for the system established by the Old Kingdom to control the Western Desert, is one of the markers of the transition to the period of state fragmentation that is commonly called the First Intermediate Period (cf. c­ hapter 12 in volume 2).

6.2.2  The Eastern Desert Stretching east along the Nile valley, the Eastern Desert is an environment very different from the Western Desert. A mountainous region rising often to altitudes of more than 1,000 m, it is cut by many wadis that allow relatively uncomplicated passage through the area. Precipitation is abundant enough to allow easy access to water via wells. From very early 23. Pantalacci 1998. 24. The site of Balat includes important pottery workshops dating to the final phase of the Old Kingdom: Soukiassian et al. 1990.

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on, this region was a primary source of a range of raw materials for the Egyptians, including galena, a mineral form of lead used as an ingredient for makeup, from the site of Gebel Zeit;25 copper from the mines of Wadi Dara, Wadi Umm Balad, and others;26 travertine (also known as Egyptian alabaster) from the region of Hatnub east of Middle Egypt;27 and gold from the southern part of the Eastern Desert and Lower Nubia, especially from Wadi Allaqi.28 It is impossible to discuss here all sources of raw material exploited during the Old Kingdom period. The most intensively exploited region was certainly Wadi Hammamat, with its grauwacke quarries. This hard stone, dark green in color and called “stone of bekhen” in Egyptian, was used for manufacturing statues, architectural elements (especially door frames and lintels), and funerary furniture (sarcophagi and their lids). Perhaps most famously, the Menkaura triads from his mortuary complex at Giza, which depict this king with the goddess Hathor and with the personification of a province (nome), were carved in this material. The grauwacke quarries are located in the heart of a particularly mineral-​rich region that was also a source of copper and gold. In addition to these natural resources, Wadi Hammamat is full of hieroglyphic inscriptions, engraved by the many Egyptian expedition teams sent to work there. These inscriptions include expedition reports recording the names and titles of the crews manning these operations and sometimes also provide short descriptions of their specific undertakings. Based on the several hundred inscriptions that are currently known (many of which remain unpublished), the kings Radjedef, Khafra, and Menkaura (all Fourth Dynasty); Sahura (Fifth Dynasty); and Teti, Pepy I, Merenra, and Pepy

25. Castel and Soukiassian 1989. 26. Castel and Pouit 1997. 27. See most recently Gourdon 2014. The site was exploited at least since the reign of Khufu, of whom two inscriptions are known, and then during the Sixth Dynasty, with inscriptions commemorating expeditions sent by the kings Teti, Pepy I, Merenra, and Pepy II: Eichler 1993: 30–​45; Gourdon 2016: 148–​158. 28. Eichler 1993: 101–​102; Gourdon 2016: 176–​177.

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II (all Sixth Dynasty) ordered work in Wadi Hammamat.29 Not a single inscription specifies the number of participants in these expeditions, but for comparison, the later Middle Kingdom–​period inscriptions mention more than seventeen thousand men.30 During the Old Kingdom, the routes through the Eastern Desert were also used to reach the shores of the Red Sea, which increased in importance with the successive construction of two ports along the coast of the Gulf of Suez (see section 6.2.4) at the beginning of the Old Kingdom.

6.2.3  The southern Sinai peninsula The southern Sinai peninsula, particularly the area that today lies inland from the modern coastal towns of Abu Rodeis and Abu Zenima, was the most important source of copper ore available to the Egyptians for direct mining. They also extracted large quantities of turquoise, popular for Egyptian jewelry and perhaps also used in the manufacture of blue glazed faience, as it was employed throughout ancient Egyptian history.31 It had traditionally been assumed that expeditions into this region began only with the first kings of the Third Dynasty, at the beginning of the Old Kingdom. However, recently discovered rock inscriptions demonstrate that these expeditions actually began as early as the Naqada III period (around 3200 bc; cf. c­ hapter 2) and continued without interruption throughout the First and Second Dynasties.32 However, the Old Kingdom certainly saw a considerable increase in the exploitation of these mines and also the installation of important facilities along the

29. Eichler 1993: 135–​139; Gourdon 2016: 158–​168. 30. Eichler 1993: 155–​156. 31. Baud 2002: 264–​265; to emphasize the long tradition using turquoise from the Sinai in Egypt see the jewelry from the tomb of Djer (First Dynasty): Valbelle and Bonnet 1996: 3. 32. Tallet 2015.

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expedition routes, all of which surely increased the volume and productivity of the extraction of resources. The sources currently available to us show that at least sixteen different expeditions into the Sinai peninsula took place between the beginning of the Third Dynasty and the end of the Old Kingdom.33 These are steles that commemorate the passage of Old Kingdom expeditions, usually set up at the entrance of the mines. Most were found at Wadi Maghara, an enclosed valley dominated by a sandstone massif from which turquoise was extracted.34 Unfortunately the site was badly damaged by modern mining activities at the beginning of the twentieth century. Luckily the majority of the monuments located there had been identified and studied before they were destroyed or removed.35 The oldest known inscriptions are in the names of three kings of the Third Dynasty; Djoser, Sekhemkhet, and Sanakht each left representations on the rock faces of the site that depict them as victors over their enemies; in one example, the king is in a dynamic posture, holding an Asiatic enemy by the hair and preparing to give him a fatal blow to the head with the mace that he holds in his hand (see figure 6.2). This classic posture, which appears in Egyptian art for the first time on the famous Narmer Palette (cf. c­ hapter 4), is first attested on the Sinai peninsula in a relief of king Den during the First Dynasty.36 It became a classic element of royal propaganda, affirming Egyptian power over and ownership of the Sinai and Egypt’s domination over the local populations (called mentiu or iuntiu). Several steles at Wadi Maghara identify the region as the “Terraces of Turquoise” (khetiu mefkat). The many inscriptions commemorating expeditions by Sneferu and Khufu (Fourth Dynasty); Sahura, Nyuserra, Menkauhor, and Djedkara Isesi (Fifth Dynasty); and finally Pepy I and Pepy II (Sixth Dynasty), illustrate

33. Tallet 2018: 97–​115. 34. Gardiner, Peet and Cerny 1952: pl. I–​IX. 35. Petrie 1906: 34–​54. 36. Ibrahim and Tallet 2009.

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Figure  6.2.  Rock relief and inscription of Sekhemkhet (Third Dynasty) in Wadi Maghara, showing the king smiting an Asiatic. Photograph by Y. Tristant, South Sinai Archaeological Mission.

the frequency with which the Sinai was visited throughout the Old Kingdom period. Inscriptions from the middle of the Fifth Dynasty onward often feature a list of the personnel participating in the mission, enumerating the professional categories mobilized for these occasions. These include naval officers and troop leaders (mesha), highlighting the versatility of the teams sent; they were capable both of operating the mines and of acting as a military force whenever necessary. The settlements themselves, found at many of the sites in the Sinai occupied during the Old Kingdom period, testify to the apprehension about the local people felt by the Egyptians:  they were typically constructed at a dominant location, to better observe all approaches to the mines and quarry sites and to guard and defend against attacks by the local populations.37 37. Chartier-​Raymond 1988; Chartier-​Raymond et al. 1994: 36–​40.

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In every instance, these expeditions to the Sinai seem to have been considered an opportunity for the king to profit, but one such expedition was presented as having been inspired by a miracle. On the relief commemorating the first mission to the Sinai carried out during the reign of Djedkara Isesi the following is stated: “Year following the third census of all large and small cattle. The god has caused that a precious stone be found in the great columned hall of Nekhen-​Re [i.e., the solar temple of King Userkaf, founder of the Fifth Dynasty at Abusir], according to the writings of the god himself. The Horus Djedkhau, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, the Two Ladies Djedkhau, the Golden Horus Djed, Djedkara, may he live forever. Mission sent with the captain Nyankhkhentikhety to the Terraces of Turquoise.”38 Recent surveys carried out in the Sinai peninsula have identified metallurgical activity. At the site of Wadi el-​Kharig,39 at least two hundred furnaces for the processing of copper ore were found near a mining complex, close to a mining camp and an inscription of Sahura, second king of the Fifth Dynasty.40 Even more spectacularly, twenty-​eight batteries of kilns, totaling a minimum of three to four thousand smelting units and covering a distance of over a kilometer, have recently been identified at the site of Seh Nasb.41 The gigantic scale of these installations, which would have been able to produce enormous quantities of copper on the spot, gives us an idea of the intensity of metal mining in the region, at a time when massive quantities of copper were essential for the construction of Egypt’s monumental building projects. For this reason, grand-​scale logistical organization supported the expeditionary forces sent to the Sinai peninsula along the routes leading to these mining and processing sites, as indicated by both inscriptions and recent archaeological fieldwork.

38. Baines and Parkinson 1997. 39. Tallet, Castel and Fluzin 2012. 40. Rothenberg 1987; Tallet 2012: 47–​56. 41. Tallet, Castel and Fluzin 2012.

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6.2.4  The harbor system at the Red Sea Although the Egyptians were not traditionally thought to have been a seafaring people and were deemed to have rarely experimented with sea navigation,42 discoveries made in the first fifteen years of the twenty-​first century on the Red Sea coast have drastically changed this view.43 Two very important, successive Old Kingdom port installations have been identified on the western coast of the Gulf of Suez, revealing Egypt’s strategic interest for this region, particularly in the context of the exploitation of the southern Sinai. In both cases, these harbors were used only intermittently and activated only when an expedition to the Red Sea took place. During their inactive periods, they provided storage for most of the equipment necessary for these maritime operations. The older of these ports has been under excavation since 2011 by a French team (IFAO and Sorbonne University). It is located at Wadi el-​ Jarf,44 23 km south of the modern coastal town of Zafarana and facing the mining area exploited by Egypt on the Sinai peninsula. The harbor at Wadi el-​Jarf is located at the mouth of a natural corridor, the Wadi Arabah, connecting the Red Sea to the Nile valley at the geographical height of the Fayum depression and allowing easy passage across the mountain range of Gebel Galala el-​Qibleya.45 According to several inscriptions found on the site, this port was likely built at the beginning of the reign of Sneferu, the founder of the Fourth Dynasty and the builder of the first of the three pyramids at Meidum, which lies at the starting point of this route into the Nile valley (cf. ­chapter 5). The harbor was therefore, at the time of its foundation, located in close proximity to an area of intense administrative activity that was well suited to attend to any logistic needs.

42. For example, Vandersleyen 1996. 43. Tallet 2015a. 44. Tallet, Marouard and Laisney 2012; Tallet 2015a; Tallet and Marouard 2014; 2016. 45. For the corridor of the Wadi Arabah see Tristant 2012.

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The advantages of the location of the harbor at Wadi el-​Jarf are manifold: first and foremost, it was founded near a natural well that produces 3–​4 cu m of fresh water daily; today, this well is part of the monastery of Saint Paul. Moreover, the Egyptians carefully selected an area of coastline where there is a natural break in the barrier reef that borders the coast along its entire length, making access and anchorage easier and less dangerous. The site itself stretched over several kilometers and incorporated at least five distinct areas. On the coast, a large, L-​shaped, north-​ facing stone jetty of almost 200 × 200 m provided shelter from wind and water currents for a sizable mooring area of over 3 ha, at the bottom of which many anchors have been discovered in association with jars dating to the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty (see figure 6.3). The site of Wadi el-​Jarf also includes three areas with sizable buildings. The first area is located just 200 m from the coastline and consists of two stone buildings with comb-​tooth-​shaped cells, in which a group of about one hundred ship anchors were stored at the time when the site was closed down. The second building is situated 2.5 km from the shore

Figure  6.3.  Landed part of Wadi el-​Jarf pier. Photograph by G. Marouard, Wadi el-​Jarf Archaeological Mission.

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and is still undergoing excavation. A large building of 60 × 40 m, it was constructed on top of installations dating to an older phase; both these building phases, however, date to the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty. The third area is occupied by an as-​yet-​unstudied group of buildings that was established on top of the limestone cliffs, 5.5 km from the coast. Quite spectacularly, a system of about thirty galleries was cut into the nearest mountain peak on the Eastern Desert, just over 6 km from the shore. These galleries, some of which measure approximately 30 m in length, were carved carefully into the limestone and lined inside with massive limestone blocks. The galleries served as storage magazines for the boats used at the port (see figure 6.4). The ongoing excavations of the site of Wadi el-​Jarf have already provided much information about Old Kingdom Egypt’s naval activities. Fragmentary boats have been uncovered in the storage galleries and also within the fill of the closure system. The production of large pottery jars, made of local clay, was an important activity on site. Hundreds of storage jars were used to store water from the local well, which was essential for supporting large numbers of workers. Here one can see a parallel

Figure  6.4. Wadi el-​ Jarf, kite view of the system of storage galleries. Photograph by E. Laroze, Wadi el-​Jarf Archaeological Mission.

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to the artificial water supply points that, at a slightly later point in Old Kingdom history, lined the Abu Ballas route through the Western Desert (see section 6.2.1). Moreover, hundreds of papyrus fragments dating to the end of the reign of Khufu have been discovered in this area. While they generally provide information on the functioning of Egypt’s central administration at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, their specific focus lies on the activity of a team of boatmen and their role in the transport of building materials to the construction site of Khufu’s pyramid.46 The harbor of Wadi el-​Jarf was complemented on the coast of the Sinai by the construction of an imposing circular fortress with a diameter of 44 m at el-​Markha/​Tell Ras Budran that was meant to protect the Egyptian expeditionary forces at their landing point within the mining region.47 The Wadi el-​Jarf papyri provide what is likely the name of this place: Ineb-​Khufu, “The Walls of Khufu.”48 The gallery storage system is a distinctive feature of all three pharaonic harbor sites that have been identified to date on the Red Sea: Mersa Gawasis, Ayn Sukhna, and Wadi el-​Jarf.49 It gives us a clear indication of the way these ports functioned. In order to sail the Red Sea at a time when there was no waterway connecting this body of water and the Nile valley,50 it was necessary to transport dismantled ships in their individual parts for about 120 km over land along the route through the Eastern Desert. Maritime expeditions to the Red Sea were conducted approximately once a decade, and rather than hauling the ships back to the Nile valley at the end of an expedition, the ships, or their dismantled parts, were left in storage to be reused.

46. Tallet  2017. 47. Tallet and Marouard 2016, revising the earlier opinion of Mumford 2006. 48. Tallet  2019b. 49. Tallet  2015a. 50. This connection probably did not exist before the very end of the Egyptian pharaonic period (ca. 600 bc), when Egypt was integrated into the empires of the Near East: cf. Agut-​Labordère 2014.

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The Egyptian ships were constructed of cedar or pine wood, which had to be imported from the Near East, and they were therefore very costly and valuable. It was thus of utmost importance to protect them in carefully sealed magazines, hidden away from view. The site of Wadi el-​Jarf seems to have functioned only for a relatively short period of perhaps eighty years from the reign of Sneferu, probably the port’s founder, to that of his son and successor, Khufu. As the royal mortuary complexes were progressively moved northward (from Meidum to Dahshur, and then to Giza; cf. c­ hapter 5), the harbor of Wadi el-​Jarf was positioned at an increasingly greater distance from Egypt’s administrative centers. It is therefore probable that as time passed, its position made this port progressively more ill-​suited for the needs of the Egyptian monarchy. It was during the reign of Khafra, Khufu’s second successor, that the decision was finally made to abandon the site at Wadi el-​Jarf. A new harbor was built at Ayn Sukhna, about 100 km north along the coast, at the starting point of a route that directly connected the new harbor to the capital of Memphis. The harbor of Ayn Sukhna was constructed close to the hot spring that still gives this region its name. It is notable that Khafra’s sealings were found in the levels connected to the abandonment of the harbor of Wadi el-​Jarf, while at Ayn Sukhna he is the earliest king whose name is found inscribed on this type of material.51 Although with only ten storage galleries Ayn Sukhna was considerably smaller in size, it had a much longer life span than Wadi el-​Jarf due to its better location. According to the many inscriptions found there, the site was occupied regularly for over a millennium.52 Old Kingdom seal impressions of Khafra, Sahura, Nyuserra, Djedkara Isesi, Unas, Pepy I, and Pepy II demonstrate the consistent use of this harbor from the mid-​Fourth Dynasty to the end of the Sixth Dynasty (see figure 6.5).53

51. Tallet and Marouard 2016: 176–​177. 52. Castel and Tallet 2019; Abd el-​Raziq, Castel and Tallet 2016; Abd el-​Raziq et al. 2002; 2011. 53. Castel and Tallet 2019.

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Figure 6.5.  Sealing of Pepy I from Ayn Sukhna, naming the “wedja-​magazine of the ship assemblers (sepu) of the king.” Photograph (a) and drawing (b) by P. Tallet, Ayn Sukhna Archaeological Mission.

Several of the galleries at Ayn Sukhna have wall inscriptions commemorating expeditions that sailed from this port, especially during the reigns of Nyuserra and Djedkara Isesi.54 They detail missions sent to the 54. Tallet 2012: 215–​229.

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“Terraces of Turquoise,” the name commonly used for the southern Sinai at this time, from the region of “Bat”; this toponym must either refer specifically to Ayn Sukhna or more generally to the Gulf of Suez region.55 Moreover, the wall inscriptions in the galleries of Ayn Sukhna record the names of several officials who are also known from rock steles discovered at Wadi Maghara in the Sinai, such as the director of the sed-​hetep troops who was sent to the turquoise mines in the year of the seventh census of Djedkara Isesi with a group of fourteen hundred men.56 The Ayn Sukhna inscriptions emphasize the dimensions of the port, detailing the different types of naval officers, crews, and boats. The principal purpose of the successively used Old Kingdom harbors at Wadi el-​Jarf and Ayn Sukhna was clearly to support the expeditions leaving for the mining regions in the South Sinai, an area of great strategic importance for Egypt throughout the Bronze Age. But in addition, these two ports were certainly also used to mount long-​distance expeditions to the southern regions along the African coast of the Red Sea and especially the country of Punt, whose location remains the subject of considerable debate. While the link to the south has not yet been conclusively proven by the archaeological work conducted at Wadi el-​Jarf, it is important to emphasize that at precisely the time of the construction of this first harbor during the reigns of Sneferu and Khufu, the first references to myrrh (antiou), one of the key imports from the region south of the Red Sea, appear in the Egyptian sources.57 The connection with this region has been much more clearly established for the later port at Ayn Sukhna, as many fragments of obsidian have been discovered in securely dated Old Kingdom levels at this site. Obsidian, too, is one of the characteristic products of the region south of the Red Sea, and the main deposits that supplied Egypt during the Old Kingdom were located in either Ethiopia or Yemen.58 In recent years, fragments of pottery that

55. Tallet 2019b. 56. Tallet 2018: 108–​110. 57. Diego Espinel 2017: 25. 58. Bavay et al. 2000; Abd el-​Raziq, Castel and Tallet 2016: 38, 307.

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likely originated in the same region have been collected at Ayn Sukhna. Based on both archaeological and epigraphic data, it seems almost certain that the place that Pepynakht mentions in his biography as the site where an expedition to Punt during the reign of Pepy II was destroyed before embarking is the harbor at Ayn Sukhna (see section 6.3.4.2).

6.3.  Between war and trade: relations with neighboring regions The quest for raw materials forced Old Kingdom Egyptians to venture far into the deserts that bordered the Nile valley, where they established a logistically complex infrastructure to allow large expeditionary forces to travel along trails equipped with water and rations of food provided by the central administration. A  desire for exotic products that could only be obtained in very remote regions led to the development of long-​ distance trade routes at this time. Egypt’s general foreign policy during the Old Kingdom remains extremely difficult to determine, as there are very few sources available on this subject. Royal ideology, as expressed within royal funeral complexes or on inscriptions left by agents of the state in the territories exploited by Egypt, tend to offer a stereotypical image of the king as the one who controls or destroys the peoples living in the regions surrounding the Nile valley. Documents with reliable historical information are extremely rare. Only a very few events are recorded on rare official monuments, such as the Palermo Stone or the recently identified South Saqqara Stone, which contains the royal annals of the Sixth Dynasty.59 But these sources are incomplete and offer only small morsels of information from here and there within the five-​century span of the Old Kingdom. Tomb autobiographies of individuals other than the king shed more light on the foreign policy of the Egyptian state. The governors of Elephantine at the First Cataract relate their expeditions to Nubia; the autobiography of the high-​ranking official Weni at his tomb in Abydos

59. Baud and Dobrev 1995.

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describes military operations in the Near East; and one recently identified account by Iny, “chancellor of the god,” on a monument at Saqqara refers to maritime expeditions in the eastern Mediterranean.60 However, the genre of the tomb autobiography was not fully developed until the very end of the Old Kingdom. Although new documents occasionally emerge that reveal hitherto unknown aspects of Egypt’s diplomatic relationships, no earlier examples of such biographies are presently known to us, and so details of the probably equally complex campaigns and expeditions conducted during that time remain entirely unknown from such sources. Our understanding of Old Kingdom foreign policy therefore is tenuous, based as it is on limited evidence. The trait that emerges most clearly, at least from the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, is a desire to open up the country in order to develop trade with neighboring regions. The construction of the two Red Sea ports (see section 6.2.4) was a manifestation of this policy, and the royal focus on large-​scale shipbuilding is reflected also in the annals of the Palermo Stone, especially for Sneferu, who was undoubtedly the king in charge of the construction of the earlier port at Wadi el-​Jarf. In Year 13 of Sneferu’s reign, it is stated on the Palermo Stone that “a boat of 100 cubits (i.e., 50 m) [called] ‘Adoring the Two Lands’ ” was built, as well as “60 boats of 16 royal umbrella pines (ash)” that were brought together with “40 boats loaded with umbrella pine (ash),” probably also destined for shipbuilding. In Year 14 of Sneferu’s reign, the construction of the boat called “Adoring the Two Lands” with umbrella pine (ash) continued, as well as that of “two boats of 100 cubits in cypress wood (meru).”61 Even when taking into account all of the fragments known to us, the Palermo Stone preserves only accounts of six years of Sneferu’s activity, and yet the fact that the construction of a fleet was one of the major concerns of his reign emerges very clearly. Papyri found at Wadi el-​Jarf

60. Marcolin and Diego Espinel 2011. 61. For a recent translation of this text see Wilkinson 2000: 141–​144; for the identification of the different categories of conifers mentioned, of which the umbrella pine seems to be specific to Lebanon, see Bardinet 2008: 208–​209.

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confirm that this was true also for his successor, Khufu. The logbook Papyrus C records the activity of a team of boatmen at a place called “Great Mouth of the Marshes” (ra-​wer idehu) in the center of the Nile delta,62 in the twelfth nome of Lower Egypt. The boatmen seem to have contributed to the building of a port facility called the “double platform” (djadjawy), which probably provided access to the Mediterranean for the king’s ships. The Egyptian state’s growing size and its investment in ever more massive construction projects clearly drove the increased exploration of the world beyond Egypt’s borders.

6.3.1  Nubia Maintaining contacts with the southern neighboring region of Nubia was a traditional feature of Egypt’s interaction with the wider world. What had originally started as a peaceful trading relationship was transformed by a series of military campaigns under Egypt’s First Dynasty rulers into the almost total annihilation of the local Nubian “A Group” culture (named after a distinctive type of pottery).63 Egypt’s intention was to take more direct control of the trade routes connecting the lower Nile valley to locations farther south in sub-​Saharan Africa and of Nubia’s important natural resources, including the gold mines near the Second Cataract. At the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, Sneferu resumed this policy of aggression. The Palermo Stone records the following for his thirteenth regnal year: “To strike Nubia, to bring back (as tribute) 7,000 prisoners, men and women, as well as 200,000 heads of small cattle.”64 According to a hypothesis recently formulated by Roman Gundacker,65 the relief and inscription engraved on the rocks of Kor el-​Aquiba in the

62. A publication by the author of this chapter is in preparation. 63. Somaglino and Tallet 2014. 64. Wilkinson 2000: 141–​142. However, while it seems plausible that seven thousand captives were taken from Nubia (and this is probably confirmed by another source), the seizing of 200,000 head of small livestock seems less likely. This extravagant figure probably was used to suggest “a very large quantity” of bounty. 65. Gundacker 2006.

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region of the Second Cataract may commemorate this same raid. The monument depicts large boats, used to reach Nubia by river, and identifies two components of the expeditionary force: one from the fourteenth nome of Lower Egypt, located in the eastern Delta, and one from the seventeenth nome of Upper Egypt, located in Middle Egypt. Not only is this inscription written in an archaic style, it also gives the same number of prisoners (seven thousand) as the Palermo Stone, making a connection between the two sources likely. This military episode must have been important; Sneferu had subjugated a Nubian population, perhaps the heirs of the “A Group” culture, who had settled in this area following the military incursions of the First Dynasty. A few decades later, Sneferu’s victory enabled the foundation of an Egyptian settlement at Buhen, located south of the initial confrontation zone on a site previously occupied by Nubians. This colony ensured a permanent Egyptian presence in this strategically important region. The main purpose for founding Buhen was presumably the coordinated exploitation of the region’s gold and copper mines and ensuring these products’ safe transfer to Egypt. Established over a very large area, the settlement at Buhen is surrounded by non-​fortified walls and consists of industrial areas, especially for copper production, as well as storage facilities. The settlement was developed in two phases, first in the reign of Khafra in the mid-​Fourth Dynasty and later in the reign of Nyuserra in the mid-​Fifth Dynasty.66 Sealings of almost every king who ruled during this period have been uncovered at Buhen.67 There are additional Egyptian trading posts in Kubban and Aniba,68 which are likely to have given the Egyptians complete control over the entire region, enabling them to freely exploit its natural resources. However, the massive reoccupation of these two sites in later periods,

66. O’Connor 2014: 323–​338. 67. The kings Khafra, Menkaura, Sahura, Neferirkara, and Nyuserra are attested in Buhen by seal impressions that were originally attached to papyri, bags, and containers that passed through the site: cf. Emery 1963: 116–​120. 68. Gratien 1995: 45–​49.

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especially during the Middle Kingdom, makes it difficult to formally identify the Old Kingdom presence. Sneferu’s campaign into the region of the Second Cataract had another direct consequence for the Egyptian economy:  the Palermo Stone states that in his fourteenth regnal year, only one year after his military campaign, Sneferu created “35 hut-​foundations and 122 farms for cattle” in the country. As Juan Carlos Moreno García has demonstrated, these hut-​foundations are the very basis for the agricultural development of Old Kingdom Egypt, the result of a policy of large-​scale agricultural colonization initiated by the kings of this period.69 Thus, one objective of Sneferu’s military operation was clearly the deportation of people and livestock to Egypt in order to accelerate the development of the land. This massive population transfer is paralleled by the large-​scale forced migrations conducted a millennium later under the Eighteenth Dynasty conquerors Thutmose III and Amenhotep II. Beyond the Egyptian colonies in Nubia and Sneferu’s campaign, however, the available sources are almost completely silent about the relationship between Egypt and Nubia until the Sixth Dynasty. Although records of any further military engagements are lacking, Egypt’s direct control over Lower Nubia seems to have faded as early as the second half of the Fifth Dynasty. The royal names attested at Buhen do not include important rulers like Djedkara Isesi, Unas, or Pepy I, who are all well known for their activities beyond the borders of Egypt. It is likely that during the final Old Kingdom period, the geopolitical conditions in Nubia were transformed by the rise of the Early Kerma culture (2450–​2050 bc) at the Third Cataract, called “Kush” in the later Middle Kingdom sources. This was the first phase of a state that for several centuries constituted a very concrete threat to Egypt. At the same time, the “C Group” culture appears to have expanded throughout Lower Nubia, where the Egyptian state clearly no longer maintained its trading posts.70 From the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty, the much better availability of written documentation, particularly the detailed tomb 69. Moreno García 1999: 152–​154. 70. Gratien 1995: 48–​49.

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autobiographies of several Egyptian expedition leaders who led missions to the regions south of the First Cataract, enables a far more nuanced view of Egyptian-​Nubian relations. These mainly alternated between Egypt’s military incursions into Nubia and commercial activity, and one can also discern complex diplomatic efforts. The political geography of Nubia is known in much greater detail and includes many distinct entities, capable of allying with or opposing each other. Egypt’s detailed knowledge of this region is tangible, especially in the “execration formulas.” Inscribed on magic figurines made from clay, the “execration formulas” seek to destroy or control over a dozen different Nubian peoples, some of whom are known only from these sources.71 The precise location of the relevant toponyms is often unclear, and their identification is the subject of much debate and different reconstructions. Careful study of the available documents, especially texts that describe routes or itineraries, reveals the presence of several large local population groups. One such group, formed by the Wawat, Irtjet, Satju, and Medja, can be reasonably securely located in Lower Nubia in the region between the First and Second Cataracts; the term Wawat is possibly also the general designation for this area. The location of the country of Yam, with which the Egyptians were also in direct contact but which seems to have been located farther away, is more difficult to establish, and various studies have led to very different conclusions regarding its location. Yam has been located in the extreme southwest of the Nile valley, in Darfur in the west of modern Sudan;72 in various oases of the Libyan desert;73 in the Butana region near the Fifth Cataract of the Nile;74 and at the latitude of the Third Cataract (thus identifying it with the first phase of the Kerma culture, which developed primarily in this region).75 This last option is supported by the account of the expedition led by Harkhuf (see section

71. Osing 1976; Grimal 1985. 72. Cooper 2012. 73. Yoyotte 1953 (Dunkul); Goedicke 1981; 1988 (Kurkur and Kharga). 74. O’Connor  1986. 75. Edel 1955; Obsomer 2007.

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6.3.1) and constitutes the most convincing identification, particularly in view of recent advances in research that have highlighted both the antiquity and the importance of the Kerma culture.76 In any case, the few fragments from the royal annals, as preserved on the South Saqqara Stone, suggest the potential for violence between Egypt and the region immediately south of the First Cataract from the outset, since the section that corresponds to the beginning of Pepy I’s reign (Register A, perhaps Year 4 or Year 5 of Pepy I77) frequently refers to “pacified Nubians” “coming with lowered heads,” who clearly pay tribute to Egypt following a defeat.78 A few decades later, the royal “Decree of Dahshur” refers to the settlement of deported Nubians within different religious institutions under royal patronage. This resettlement may have been the consequence of the same defeat.79 Such military engagements were probably a regular occurrence, as the deployment of troops toward Nubia is also attested under the reign of Merenra, the successor to Pepy I. He is commemorated in at least two royal inscriptions left in the Elephantine region on the First Cataract. One is placed on the road between Aswan and the island of Bigeh and states the following: “The king of Upper and Lower Egypt Merenra, beloved of Khnum, lord of the cataract. The year of the fifth census (year 9-​10), second month of the Shemu season, day 28: passage of the king in person, who stands behind the foreign lands, while the governors of Medja, Irtjet and Wawat smell the earth and are in great adoration.”80 The second inscription bears a date only four days earlier and explicitly mentions the “passage of the king in person to strike the governors of foreign lands.”81 Medja, Irtjet, and Wawat, the three toponyms mentioned in this text, probably cover

76. See in particular the recent publications by Bonnet 2000; 2004; Bonnet and Valbelle 2014. 77. Suggested by Gourdon 2016: 184 and n. 99. 78. Baud and Dobrev 1995: 32–​33 79. Goedicke 1967: 63. 80. Gourdon 2016: 186–​187. 81. Gourdon 2016: 187; Kaiser et al. 1976: 79.

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the area between the First and Second Cataracts. It is likely that this was a campaign of intimidation led by the king himself, intended to ensure the continuation of tribute payments to Egypt from this region. During the long reign of Pepy II, another Nubian war in the same region is reported in the autobiography of Pepynakht Heqaib at Elephantine. It concerns once again the Second Cataract region, which in this case was the focus of at least two successive maneuvers: The majesty of my lord sent me to devastate the land of Wawat and Irtjet. I  did what pleases my lord and killed a great number there, including the ruler’s children and the commander of excellent Nubian force. I brought a great number of them to the Residence as prisoners, I being at the head of the expedition, a large and strong force, as one who is strong of heart, and my lord was delighted with me as (he was) with every mission on which he sent me. The majesty of my lord sent me to subdue those foreign lands and I did it in such a way that my lord was immensely pleased with me. I brought to the Residence the two subdued chiefs of these foreign lands, along with gifts of live oxen and goats chosen for the benefit of the Residence, as well as their children and the two commanders of the Nubian forces that where with them.82 The role of the local governors of Elephantine on the southern border of Old Kingdom Egypt at the First Cataract was not limited to the organization of military operations into Lower Nubia. Their tomb autobiographies also testify to their active involvement in long-​distance expeditions with a purely commercial objective. These operations presented certain risks, as evidenced by the narrative of Sabni, who went south with a caravan of one hundred donkeys carrying oil, honey, cloth, and faience in order to trade but also to retrieve the body of his father, the “sole companion” Mekhu, who had apparently died while on a mission to Nubia:

82. Sethe 1932: 133–​134; Strudwick 2005: 334–​335.

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The [royal noble Iry (?)] had the boat captains Inyotef and Mekhu come with Hazu, a man from Behekez, to let me know that my father, the sole companion and lector priest Mekhu had died [in Wawat. I set forth] accompanied by a troop of men of my funerary estate and 100 donkeys carrying merehet-​oil, honey, linens, faience vessels, tjehenu-​oil, and all requirements for making gifts (?) to [these] foreign lands. [ . . . ] I wrote letters particularly to let it be known that I had set forth to bring back that father of mine who had traveled to Wetjtj (in) Wawat. I satisfied those foreign lands [with these gifts] and I  found that sole companion in the foreign land whose name is Temetjer at the end of the Estate of Zeb. I found him upon a donkey. I saw to it that he was transported by the troops of my funerary estate, I made for him a wooden coffin. I brought it along with its lid especially to bring him out of these foreign lands.83 But the lengthy autobiography of Harkhuf is certainly the most important such text for our present purposes. It serves as the basis for reconstructing the political landscape of all of Nubia at the end of the Old Kingdom. Harkhuf recounts four distinct trips to the southern regions, each following different itineraries. The first, seven-​month-​long journey is a kind of initiation for Harkhuf, who accompanies his father, the lector priest Iry, to the land of Yam in order “to learn the route of this country.” He returns, alone, on an eight-​month journey, leaving “by the route of Elephantine.” In the third and most unusual expedition, which also is reported in most detail, Harkhuf travels south along the routes through the Western Desert on a mission combining political and commercial objectives: His majesty sent me a third time to Yam. I  went out from the Thinite nome upon the oasis road and I found that the ruler of Yam had gone away to the land of the Tjemehu, to drive them off to the western corner of the sky. I followed him to the land 83. Sethe 1932: 136–​137; Strudwick 2005: 336.

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of the Tjemehu. I  satisfied him just so that he might praise all the gods for the sovereign. Then I sent off an official with a man of Yam to the retinue of Horus (i.e. the royal court) to let the majesty of Merenra, my lord, know that [I had gone to the land of the Tjemehu] in pursuit of the ruler of Yam. When I had satisfied that ruler of Yam, [I came down through] south of Irtjet, Setjau and Wawat. With three hundreds donkeys loaded with incense, ebony, hekenu-​oil, seshayt-​balm, panther skins, elephant tusks, throw sticks and all sort of wonderful products did I travel. When the ruler of Irtjet, Setjau and Wawat saw the strength and number of the troop contingent of Yam which was coming along with me to the Residence, as well as my own expedition which was travelling with me, this ruler then accompanied me, gave me cattle and goats, and led me on the hill-​paths of Irtjet, due to the excellent manner in which I had exercised vigilance, more so than any companion or overseer of foreigners who had previously been sent to Yam.84 In the service of the Egyptian state, Harkhuf ’s intention was to support the policies of the distant prince of the country of Yam against enemies who were geographically within much closer reach of Egypt’s borders. The route through the Western Desert was probably taken to circumvent Lower Nubia, a region in which, as previously discussed, Egypt regularly exercised force but clearly had no secure control. Using the route through the Western Desert, Harkhuf could connect at the southernmost possible latitude to the trade routes that brought exotic products north, particularly associated at least in the Egyptian imagination with the land of Punt. This suggests to the present author that Yam was most probably located in the region between the Third and Fifth Cataracts, and that it should be identified with the ancient Kerma culture, the intermediary between Egypt and the distant regions of the Horn of Africa and South Arabia. Harkhuf ’s final trip is contemporaneous with the very beginning of Pepy II’s reign and is reported in the autobiography by including the 84. Sethe 1932: 135–​140; Strudwick 2005: 330–​332.

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content of an enthusiastic letter written by the young king to Harkhuf, in which he worries about the precious cargo being carried back to Egypt by river: a dwarf, possibly a pygmy, who was said to be “similar to the one who was brought back from Punt by the expedition leader Werdjedbau under the reign of Djedkara Isesi.”85 This last trip highlights how Egypt sought to establish a connection to the southernmost regions of Africa and how this was achieved indirectly through the relationship with Yam. Egyptian political attitudes toward Nubia seem to have changed a great deal throughout the five-​hundred-​year duration of the Old Kingdom.86 In Lower Nubia, the raiding conducted at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, in particular under Sneferu, was succeeded for more than a century by the establishment of trading posts on the Nile that provided Egypt with both a more permanent presence in the area and a more subtle means for controlling the entire Second Cataract region. The final phase of the Old Kingdom saw a renewal in hostilities as the Egyptian state sought to assert its suzerainty within a changing geopolitical situation. As attested by the few texts that have survived and that most likely only offer a limited picture, Egypt’s conduct oscillated between intimidation tactics and complicated diplomatic maneuvers. At that time, the practice of circumventing dangerous regions in Nubia began, and this may explain the creation of the Abu Ballas Trail and of oasis settlements like Balat (Ayn Asil), which lined the route through the Western Desert (see section 6.2.1). Regarding the more southern regions, Egypt’s objective was to advance its trade routes as far as possible in order to obtain highly sought-​ after, exotic products. During this period, Egypt appears to have been an ally of the Kerma Kingdom, a state that would later become one of its fiercest opponents. But already during the Old Kingdom period, the value of bypassing Kerma altogether was recognized, and Egypt explored the possibility of establishing a direct route into the Bab el-​Mandab region, and the Kingdom of Punt, via the Red Sea (see section 6.3.2). 85. Sethe 1932: 135–​140; Strudwick 2005: 330–​332. 86. For a more detailed view of the relationship between Egyptians and Nubians in the region specifically at this time in history see Diego Espinel 2003; 2006.

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6.3.2  Punt The source of many valuable and exotic commodities, including myrrh, incense, copper, electrum, and obsidian,87 the land of Punt remains mysterious today, and its location is much debated.88 It was in one of the most remote locations to be reachable directly from Egypt. The sources that evoke Punt are not very numerous, but they regularly appear throughout Egyptian history. The expedition dispatched by Queen Hatshepsut of the Eighteenth Dynasty in the New Kingdom period, as commemorated in the reliefs at her funerary temple of Deir el-​Bahri, is the most prominent source of information for this region. These reliefs present an almost ethnographic vision of Punt and depict its population with characteristics that are very different from those of the Egyptians, including their buildings: huts mounted on stilts.89 Punt could certainly be reached by sea, as has recently been proven by the abundant Middle Kingdom documentation discovered at the port of Mersa Gawasis, on the Red Sea coast near the modern city of Safaga.90 This port was probably built at the very beginning of the Twelfth Dynasty (or perhaps even by the end of the Eleventh Dynasty), specifically to organize expeditions to Punt.91 This maritime access strongly suggests that Punt was located on the southern edge of the Red Sea in the Bab el-​Mandab region, but it is not easy to determine more precisely whether it was located along the coast of southern Sudan or Ethiopia, or perhaps even Yemen in the south of the Arabian Peninsula. However, its identification with a region in Africa still remains the most likely hypothesis; as the account by Harkhuf (see section 6.3.1) indicates, it seems to have been possible to travel to Punt via the Nile. However, it is

87. Diego Espinel 2011a: 121–​201. 88. See Diego Espinel 2011a:  59–​120 for the different suggestions concerning the location of the land of Punt. 89. Meeks 1997; Diego Espinel 2011a: 327–​376. 90. Sayed 1977; Bard and Fattovich 2007. 91. For a chronology of the intermittent harbors see Tallet 2015a.

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also conceivable that the geopolitical notion suggested by this term may have varied over the course of the many centuries that it was used. In the eyes of the Egyptians, “Punt” may have simply referred to any identifiable country at the southeastern limit of the known world. Old Kingdom documents that evoke Punt are relatively few in number and difficult to interpret. The most explicit is a passage from the Palermo Stone, which records an expedition sent there during the fourteenth (and final) regnal year of king Sahura, the second ruler of the Fifth Dynasty. The term “Punt” appears for the first time in this inscription, and the passage records the trip to Punt parallel to an expedition to the Sinai that was dispatched in the same year: “What has been brought back from the turquoise country: copper 6,000 (units); what has been brought back from Punt: myrrh 80,000 (units), electrum 6,000 units, malachite 23,020 (units).”92 The historical reality of this mission to Punt was confirmed in recent years by the discovery of some carved stone blocks from the ascending causeway of the funerary complex of Sahura at Abusir, whose decorations depict the return of an Egyptian fleet from the land of Punt.93 The term “Punt” does not actually appear on these blocks, but in the depiction of the ships’ return to Egypt are people with the same characteristics used by the Egyptians to represent natives of Punt, and the king is depicted as receiving myrrh trees that had been brought back from this exotic country, obviously destined to be cultivated in Egypt.94 It is therefore certain that Sahura organized an expedition of great symbolic value to these distant lands; the transport of precious plants, as depicted on the decorated blocks, probably became the template for depicting later expeditions, including the one conducted during the reign of Hatshepsut. Also, the Palermo Stone and the narrative sequence on the Sahura causeway at Abusir share the link between the mission to Punt and a mission sent to the Sinai, as indicated by another block

92. Wilkinson 2000: 168–​171. 93. El-​Awady 2009: pl. V. 94. El-​Awady 2009: pl.  5–​6.

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from Sahura’s funeral complex of the king,95 which mentions a mining expedition to the banks of “Bat,” most likely a designation for the Gulf of Suez (see section 6.2.4).96 These connections suggest that from the Old Kingdom period onward, the route to Punt led through the Red Sea, and that any missions sent to this exotic destination were organized jointly with expeditions to the Sinai peninsula. The discovery of a seal impression containing the name of Sahura at the Red Sea harbor of Ayn Sukhna demonstrates activity during his reign at this site and emphasizes the likelihood that the missions to Punt were launched from this harbor.97 However, it is almost certain that the expedition to Punt under Sahura was not the first Egyptian mission to have reached the southern confines of the Red Sea. At the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, a full century and a half earlier, king Sneferu displayed images of the same myrrh trees on the pillars of his funerary temple in Dahshur. Apparently attempts were already being made to cultivate these trees on Egyptian soil.98 The site of Wadi el-​Jarf (see section 6.2.4) could easily have facilitated such long-​distance expeditions, just as the evidence from Ayn Sukhna convincingly suggests that this harbor, too, was used for this purpose. Ayn Sukhna was most likely also the origin point for a dramatic rescue, as reported by Pepynakht in the autobiographical inscriptions found in his tomb at Aswan. An official during the reign of Pepy II, the list of Pepynakht’s many accomplishments includes the following: “And so the majesty of my lord sent me to the land of the Asiatics to bring back to him the sole friend, the captain (?), the director of the auxiliaries. Anankhta, who assembled a kebenet-​boat there to go to Punt when Asiatic inhabitants of the sand killed him, and the armed detachment who was with him.”99 As Dimitri Meeks has noted, it is striking that this text mentions the “assembling” (sepi) of ships, rather than their

95. El-​Awady  2011. 96. For this interpretation of the toponym see Tallet 2019b. 97. Tallet 2019a. 98. Edel 1996; Diego Espinel 2011a: 182–​186. 99. Meeks 2002: 321–​323.

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construction.100 However, Sixth Dynasty seal impressions indicate the existence of a shipyard, literally the magazines of “those who are assembling the boats of the king” at Ayn Sukhna, alluding to the assembly and disassembly of ships that took place at these intermittently used ports.101 It is also at Ayn Sukhna that the earliest reference appears, since the reign of Djedkara Isesi at the end of the Fifth Dynasty, to the “Byblos-​type boats” (kebenet), which seem to have been used specifically for long sea voyages.102 Moreover, it is said that the expedition was raided by “Asiatic inhabitants of the sands” (aamu heriu she), certainly one of the population groups inhabiting the isthmus of Suez (see section 6.3.4.2). Beyond these sources, expeditions sent forth to Punt during the Old Kingdom remain very poorly documented. Surviving written records mention only three missions that achieved their objective. The first took place at the end of the reign of Sahura at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty, and the second was led by the “chancellor of the god,” Werdjedbau, during the reign of Djedkara Isesi. This expedition clearly made a deep impression on the minds of Werdjedbau’s contemporaries, and it was evoked as a model for the Sixth Dynasty autobiographical texts of Harkhuf and Iny, more than fifty years later. At the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty is a brief reference to the third expedition, by a leader from Elephantine named Khuy, whose autobiography laconically refers to reaching Punt and Byblos.103 That the Fourth Dynasty rulers sent missions to Punt remains an attractive hypothesis that has not yet been formally proven. The expedition that appears in the autobiography of Pepynakht was destroyed before setting out to sea. Considering the considerable logistical difficulties involved, missions to Punt must have always been exceptional operations. Indirect contact with this distant region may have taken place through Nubian intermediaries, as evidenced by the autobiography of Harkhuf and its mention

100. Meeks 2002: 321–​323. 101. Tallet 2019a. 102. Tallet 2012: 222–​226. 103. Sethe 1932: 140–​141.

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of the dwarf from Punt, brought back to Egypt by this official during a naval expedition to the Third Cataract (see section 6.3.1).

6.3.3  Libya The people living in the northwest of Egypt, that is, in the western parts of the Nile delta, presented fierce opposition whenever they were directly affected by attempts at Egyptian state building. They were therefore regularly depicted as defeated foes on commemorative objects from the Naqada III period (cf. ­chapter 4). Thus, the “Hierakonpolis Cylinder Seal” shows Narmer, the first king of the First Dynasty, in the form of a catfish (whose depiction was also used to write his name), hitting captives with a stick. The accompanying inscription identifies these captives as originating from Ta-​Tjehenu, “the land of the Libyans.” The famous Narmer Palette probably also preserves the memory of a conflict with this group of people in the western Nile delta. It shows the ruler in a dynamic stance, poised to slay his enemy—​a depiction that thereafter became a typical representation of the ruler of Egypt. The object known as “Palette of Cities” or “Libyan Palette” shows on one face a procession of domestic animals (donkey and cattle) together with a reference to Tjehenu and therefore may commemorate the delivery of tribute to Egypt by the inhabitants of this region. Hostilities between Egypt and these people continued beyond the reign of Narmer, as a rock inscription discovered recently in the Sinai mentions a military operation in Tjehenu during the reign of Djer, Narmer’s third successor.104 Thereafter the sources fall almost completely silent about this region until the time of Sneferu at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty. One of the rare military campaigns known to us from this period is recorded on a small fragment of the Palermo Stone, discovered in Memphis at the beginning of the twentieth century ad and now kept in the Cairo museum.105 On two partially preserved registers, the fragment

104. Tallet 2015b: 23–​32. 105. Wilkinson 2000: 235–​236, fig. 9.

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relates events from Sneferu’s reign, although these unfortunately cannot be precisely dated to specific years of his reign. The second register reads: “What was brought from Tjehenu: 1,100 male and female prisoners, and 23,000 heads of small livestock.”106 This entry is very similar to an inscription of Sneferu that details a campaign to Nubia (see section 6.3.1). Taken together, these sources strongly suggest that Sneferu maintained an aggressive military policy toward the border regions of Egypt, which must have greatly helped in financing the many royal building projects he realized throughout his realm. Thereafter, very little information is available about Tjehenu until the end of the Old Kingdom period. The blocks from the causeway of the funerary complex of Sahura at Abusir from the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty feature a series of scenes celebrating the triumph of Egypt over various foreign regions, including several depictions of Libyans. On the one hand, they and the representatives of other foreign peoples are shown on leashes held by the deities of Egypt,107 and on the other hand, they are depicted in defeat beneath the feet of the victorious king, who is represented as a sphinx.108 In the long list of tribute paid to Egypt, presented by the goddess Seshat, men and women of the “Tjehenu” are named as prisoners together with large numbers of livestock:  123,440 oxen, 223,400 donkeys, 232,413 goats, and 243,688 sheep.109 This level of detail may suggest that the list documents a specific instance of capturing people and animals from the western border regions during a military campaign against Libya. But whether the scenes on Sahura’s causeway indeed represent a historical event is unclear, because their main objective was to remind the viewer of the king’s domination over all foreign territories, and the inclusion of Libyans and others may therefore simply have served the purpose of creating a sense of reality in this invocation of his general power. It should be noted that almost identical parallel scenes

106. Wilkinson 2000: 235–​236; Daressy 1916. 107. Borchardt 1913: Blatt 5–​7. 108. Borchardt 1913: Blatt 8. 109. Borchardt 1913: Blatt 1.

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were subsequently depicted on the causeways of the funerary complexes of Sahura’s successors Nyuserra,110 Unas,111 Pepy I,112 and Pepy II,113 which strongly suggests that the scenes were primarily intended to reinforce royal ideology rather than to record actual events.114

6.3.4  The Eastern Mediterranean coast and the Near East During the Old Kingdom period, Egypt maintained close relations with the Near East. Southern Palestine seems to have been a region of intense Egyptian interest from the very beginning of the dynastic period, when Egyptian trading posts were set up on the overland route along the eastern Mediterranean coast. From the mid-​First Dynasty onward, the region seems to have become less important to Egypt, and these trading posts were abandoned.115 In the period from the Fourth to the Sixth Dynasties, more remote areas on the eastern Mediterranean coast that were only accessible by sea from Egypt played an increasingly important role, although the relevant textual sources remain very limited; chiefly, these are the reliefs of the funerary complex of Sahura from Abusir and the inscriptions and decorations of the tombs of Weni, Kaiaper, and Inti. To this material one can now add Karin Sowada’s detailed archaeological analysis of the trade relations between Egypt and the Near East.116 110. Borchardt 1907: Blatt 8–​11. 111. Borchardt 1907: Blatt 8–​11. 112. Leclant 1980. 113. Jéquier 1940: pl. 12–​14. 114. Leclant 1980 clearly showed the artificiality of these sources, pointing out that names of characters belonging to a Libyan family in the funerary complex of Sahura were regularly reproduced in later royal complexes and even fifteen hundred years later during the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty in similar scenes at the temple of Kawa in Sudan. 115. Miroschedji 2015: 1025–​1026. 116. Sowada 2009; Diego-​Espinel 2012.

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The recent discovery of the tomb autobiography of Iny, an expedition leader who served between the reigns of Pepy I and Pepy II, may profoundly change our understanding of the connections between Egypt and the Near East. In this inscription, several missions that Iny carried out in the Mediterranean are detailed.

6.3.4.1  Lebanon and Syria Researchers have long emphasized the importance of the connection between Old Kingdom Egypt and the northern part of the Levant, with the ancient harbor city of Byblos constituting Egypt’s key partner until the first millennium bc. From the Old Kingdom onward, Byblos seems to have acted as a major trade hub that allowed Egypt to obtain the large quantities of timber (especially coniferous wood such as cedar and pine) needed for shipbuilding. Numerous Egyptian, or Egyptianizing, objects, sometimes of royal origin, were uncovered during the excavations at Byblos, in particular during the work carried out by Pierre Montet between 1921 and 1924,117 as well as by Maurice Dunand between 1926 and 1938.118 The material, as recently studied by Karin Sowada,119 includes stone vases (mostly carved from travertine), seals, and other inscribed objects that mention the names of Queen Hetepheres (reigns of Sneferu and Khufu) and of kings Khufu, Khafra, Menkaura, Sahura, Neferirkara, Nyuserra, Djedkara Isesi, Unas, Teti, Pepy I, Merenra, and Pepy II. Although the archaeological context of many of these artifacts is insufficiently known or documented, there is no doubt that this exceptional material indicates the existence of sustained and high-​level contacts between the Egyptian court and Byblos from the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty to the end of the Sixth Dynasty.120

117. Montet 1928. 118. Dunand 1927; 1939; 1958. New work has recently started on the site to study the development of the port in antiquity: cf. Grimal and Francis-​Allouche 2012; Francis-​Allouche and Grimal 2016. 119. Sowada 2009: 128–​140. 120. Diego Espinel 2002.

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Egyptian sources, namely the Palermo Stone, confirm this. The sections referring to the reign of Sneferu (see section 6.3) record the importing of umbrella pine wood and shipbuilding. To the Egyptian mind, the shipments of coniferous timber from Byblos came to be closely associated with the boats that were subsequently built using this wood. For this reason, boats built for seafaring were regularly called kebenet boats, that is “Byblos-​type boats,” from the reign of Djedkara Isesi of the Fifth Dynasty onward.121 The importance of the relationship with Byblos was recently highlighted again by the discovery of the tomb autobiography of the official Iny, which provides essential insights into the relationship between Egypt and the eastern Mediterranean at the end of the Old Kingdom period. The text consists of two successive biographical narratives. The first and more detailed one records the activities of Iny during the reigns of Pepy I and Merenra. The shorter, second account describes a later operation under the reign of Pepy II. In the longer account, Iny first details the rewards that he received from the king and then reports on his missions: I “did” Amau/​Khenty-​she/​Pa-​u-​[//​]-​es four times, while I was sealbearer of the god under the majesty of Pepi (I), my lord. I brought him silver and every good product his ka desired and his Majesty praised me for it very greatly. I  was sent to Byblos under the Majesty of Merenra my lord. I brought back three (?) Byblos-​type boats (kebenet) and I [ . . . ] the great ships to the court. I brought back lapis-​lazuli, tin, silver, sefetj-​oil and every good product his ka desired. I  was praised for it into the court and gold reward were given to me. I went down to Byblos through “River Mouth” (i.e., the Delta region) and I came back safely.122

121. The earliest known references to kebenet boats are found in two expedition reports from the reign of Djedkara-​Isesi, discovered at Ayn Sukhna:  Tallet 2019a: text nos. 2–​3. 122. Marcolin and Diego Espinel 2011: 579–​604; cf. Schneider 2015: 445.

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The shorter account additionally offers this: The majesty of Neferkara (Pepy II), my lord, sent me to Lebanon (Khenty-​she). I  brought back one Byblos-​type boat and several cargo vessels loaded with silver, Asiatic (aamu) men and women.123 These accounts allow us to reconstruct Iny’s sea voyages from his departure from Egypt via one of the branches of the Nile in the delta (“River Mouth”) to his arrival on the shores of Lebanon. The Egyptian sources most frequently mention the city of Byblos and the trade with resinous timber, but there is no doubt that trade in this area was more complex than that. The products mentioned in Iny’s autobiography, notably silver and lapis lazuli, suggest that the expeditions to the eastern Mediterranean enabled Egypt to tap into a much larger long-​distance trade network. Lapis lazuli, for example, originates in the Badakhstan region in present-​ day Afghanistan. In order to reach Egypt, it was most likely transported along trade routes that eventually led through Mesopotamia to northern Syria.124 The supply of lapis lazuli in Egypt was interrupted at the beginning of the third millennium bc (perhaps due to the collapse of the long-​distance Uruk culture trade network; cf. ­chapter 3) and only re-​ established by the Fourth Dynasty; it is first attested again in the tomb of Queen Hetepheres, the wife of Sneferu and mother of Khufu, at Giza.125 Tin (djeheti), which is also mentioned in Iny’s autobiography, very likely originated from the same Central Asian area and was traded along the same route.126 Silver in its natural state is not found in Egypt and may have come from the Byblos region. The most important silver deposits were in

123. Marcolin and Diego Espinel 2011: 605–​615. 124. Bavay 1997. 125. Sowada 2009: 188–​190. 126. The importance of the tin route was even more vital in the later Egyptian history: Grandet 2008: 33–​40.

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southern Anatolia. From there, silver may have been transported to the Mediterranean coast via the city of Ebla (cf. c­ hapter 8), the capital of a northern Syrian kingdom that was located relatively close to the mines.127 In the royal palace of Ebla, a large number of Egyptian stone vessels made of travertine and anorthositic gneiss were excavated, sometimes bearing the names of Old Kingdom rulers; attested are Khufu (Fourth Dynasty) and Teti and Pepy I (Sixth Dynasty).128 These vessels may well be indirect markers of an exchange between the kingdom of Ebla and Old Kingdom Egypt. It is possible that the contemporary Ebla archives may mention Egypt, although this is contested. The Ebla records mention shipments of lapis lazuli, tin, and silver traveling to the “king of Du-​gú-​ra-​suki,” and Maria Giovanna Biga and Alessandro Roccati have recently suggested that this toponym could refer to the delta of the Nile, approximately corresponding to the Egyptian “River Mouth” (as also mentioned in Iny’s biography); if one takes this as a metonymic name for the lower Nile valley, identified by the opening of the Nile branches of the delta into the Mediterranean, the toponym may stand for Old Kingdom Egypt.129 Thomas Schneider, who rejected this hypothesis on linguistic grounds, proposed that the toponym in the Ebla material instead refers to the kingdom of Kerma on the Third Cataract of the Nile,130 which would still link these attestations to trade between Ebla and the Nile valley. Be that as it may, Iny’s autobiography made it possible to identify one hitherto unknown trade partner of Old Kingdom Egypt, as Thomas Schneider recently proposed locations for the three toponyms Amau, Khenty-​she, and Pa-​u-​[//​]-​es that appear in Iny’s longer account.131 Schneider identified Amau with Ṣumur, the ancient Semitic name of Tell Kazel, and takes Khenty-​she as a specification of that place, indicating

127. Sowada 2009: 188–​190; Prag 1978: 40–​41. 128. Scandone Matthiae 1981; 1988; Sowada 2009: 287. 129. Biga and Roccati 2012: 26–​28; cf. Schneider 2015: 444–​445. 130. Schneider 2015: 445–​447. 131. Schneider 2015: 441–​447.

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that it belonged to the wider entity of Lebanon, followed by Pa-​u-​[//​ ]-​es, which he interprets as the Egyptian rendering of the Semitic term *parūśat, “extended territory; plain.” The plain of Akkar on the lower course of Nahr el-​Kebir on the current border between Lebanon and Syria, which is situated close to Tell Kazel, is the most likely candidate for identification with this locality. The sequence in Iny’s account can therefore be understood as “the city of Ṣumur in Lebanon and its plain.” The impression that emerges from all these sources is that the Egyptians maintained regular trade contacts with these northern regions and had a good geographical knowledge of them. In addition, there are bears depicted in the reliefs of the Sahura’s funerary complex at Abusir,132 whose naturalistic representation indicates that the artists knew these animals of presumably North Syrian origin; they may have been brought to Egypt as diplomatic gifts during Sahura’s reign.133

6.3.4.2 Southern Palestine Relations with Southern Palestine, which is so much closer to Egypt, are hardly ever documented in the early Old Kingdom period. On the other hand, from the Fifth Dynasty onward an increasing number of sources report military operations against people called Aamu-​heriu-​sha, literally “Asiatics who are on the sand.” It is unclear whether this increase in evidence marks a change in regional politics or the better availability of sources is simply an accident of transmission. Notably, the town of Ida, which is one of the most frequently mentioned sites in the context of the expeditions to Southern Palestine, already appears in the inscription of the tomb of the dwarf Seneb from the first half of the Fourth Dynasty.134 The latest archaeological excavations carried out in the Gaza Strip have highlighted an important local culture with a network of fortified cities during the Early Bronze Age III period and contemporary with the

132. Borchardt 1913: Blatt 3. 133. Borchardt 1913: Blatt 3. 134. Begon 2016; for the dating of Seneb, which was further secured by the recent discoveries at Wadi el-​Jarf, see Tallet 2019c.

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Old Kingdom.135 At this time, Tell es-​Sakan, south of the modern city of Gaza, was protected by imposing ramparts nearly 8 m thick and possibly reaching a height of almost 10 m.136 A similar stronghold was identified at Tel Poran in the region of Ashkelon, and comparable occupation levels dating to the third millennium bc have also been reported for Tel Gerisa near the city of Jaffa. It is likely that these fortified settlements correspond to a group of foreign citadels that are frequently named in Egyptian sources; from north to south, these settlements are Unet, Seferer, Tepa, and Ida.137 According to the Egyptian sources, these strongholds in Southern Palestine seriously endangered and impeded Egyptian maritime expeditions along the Mediterranean coastline, which required the boats to regularly stop along this coast. The people controlling these strongholds were also a threat to travel over land and to the Egyptian territories on the eastern fringes of the delta and the isthmus of Suez.138 According to the account of Pepynakht, the devastating attack on one of Pepy II’s expeditions to Punt was the work of such “Asiatics who are on the sand” (Aamu-​heriu-​sha), probably from the site of Ayn Sukhna (see section 6.2.4).139 From this perspective, Egypt’s frequent interventions in Southern Palestine appear to have been a response to a real threat. According to the available sources, Old Kingdom Egypt began its military incursions into this region at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty. The royal official Kaiaper recorded on the relief decorations of his tomb at Saqqara that he was “scribe of the king’s troops at Unet, Serer, Tepa, Ida, at the ‘Terraces of Turquoise’ (i.e. the Sinai), in the Western and Eastern Deserts,” which

135. Miroschedji 2015; Miroschedji and Sadek 2001; Miroschedji et al. 2007. 136. Miroschedji 2015: 1028–​1029. 137. This sequence appears at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty in the tomb of Kaiaper (Fischer 1959) and may have reappeared in the tomb of Inti at Deshasha in the text accompanying the representation of a siege (Begon 2016: 18–​22). 138. For a re-​evaluation of these texts see Gundacker 2017. 139. Gourdon 2016: 192–​194.

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Figure 6.6.  Relief from the tomb of Inti at Deshasha, showing the conquest of a fortress in Canaan. After Kanawati and McFarlane 1993: pl. 26.

demonstrates that expeditions were conducted along the Mediterranean coast from this time onward.140 It is also possible that reliefs from the funerary temple of Userkaf, the founder of the Fifth Dynasty, depict a battle between Egyptians and Asiatics, but they are too fragmentary to be certain about the validity of this interpretation.141 However, a military intrusion into Southern Palestine is certainly depicted on a relief scene from the tomb of Inti in Deshasha, probably dating to the end of the Fifth Dynasty, that shows how Egyptian troops besiege a fortress (see figure 6.6).142 The scene shows women, children, and wounded men inside the crenellated walls of the fortress and their prince sitting on his throne in an attitude of mourning. Outside the walls, the victorious Egyptian army is depicted in the top three registers, surrounded by the corpses of the fallen enemies, while chained prisoners are led away in the lower

140. Fischer 1959. 141. Labrousse and Lauer 2000: 91, fig. 310–​311. 142. Petrie 1898: pl. 4; Kanawati and MacFarlane 1993: pl. 26.

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register. To the right of this same register, Egyptian soldiers are shown busy digging to undermine the fortress foundation and placing a ladder against the city wall, ready to storm the fortifications. This depiction combines several distinct phases of the capture of the fortress, and taken in its entirety, it indicates its total defeat. Despite its fragmentary state of preservation, Matthieu Begon was able to plausibly reconstruct the biographical text that accompanies the scene: “[T]‌hen after I had [fought] and killed [the chief of Unet, Serer, Tepa] and Ida, I turned back.”143 This victorious campaign may also have been commemorated in the reliefs that adorn the causeway of the funerary complex of Unas, the last king of the Fifth Dynasty, at Giza; they show Egyptian troops fighting with Asiatics,144 and perhaps even the remains of a scene representing the siege of a city, similar to the depiction from the tomb of Inti in Deshasha.145 One of the most important and detailed biographical texts known to us documents further military operations in the region. Weni, a high official under Pepy I at the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty, details on the walls of his two funerary monuments at Abydos and Saqqara how the royal Egyptian troops under his direction intervened (at least) six times in Southern Palestine.146 The text details how the armies for these campaigns were put together and provides us with a sense of the large scale of these undertakings, as troops were sourced from every province in Egypt, and even from Nubia: “When his majesty repelled the Asiatics and Sand-​Dwellers, his majesty put together an army of many thousands, from all of Upper Egypt, from Elephantine north to Medenyt, from Lower Egypt, from all the Delta, from Sedjer, Khensedjer, from Irtjet Nubians, Medjai Nubians, Iam Nubians, Wawat Nubians, Kaau Nubians and from the Tjemehu. His majesty sent me at the head of this army.”147

143. Begon 2016: 19. 144. Labrousse and Moussa 2002a: fig. 16–​21. 145. Diego Espinel 2011b: 60–​61, fig. 8–​9. 146. Collombert 2015. 147. Sethe 1932: 101–​102; Strudwick 2005: 354.

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The result of the campaign is presented as a victory song that provides a poetic description of the land raided by the Egyptian troops: This expedition returned in peace, having ravaged the land of the Sand-​Dwellers. This expedition returned in peace, having destroyed the land of the Sand-​Dwellers. This expedition returned in peace, having pulled down its fortresses. This expedition returned in peace, having cut down its figs and vines. This expedition returned in peace, having set fire to all its houses. This expedition returned in peace, having slaughtered the troops there in many tens of thousands. This expedition returned in peace, having brought great numbers of the troops therein away as captives.148 This is not the description of a simple skirmish against some desert tribes. What is here reported is the sacking of a country with prosperous agriculture and several important cities. The account of the final campaign allows us to reconstruct the tactics used by the Egyptian forces, and their attacks from both land and sea confirm that the targeted population lived on the coast: “It was said that there were insurgents in those foreign lands in the area above Gazelle Nose. So, I crossed over in barges with these troops, north of the highlands of the mountain range, north of the land of the Sand-​Dwellers was where I made a landing, while half of the army was still on the road. Only after I apprehended them all, slaughtering every insurgent among them, did I return.”149 Modern research has often located “Gazelle Nose” at Mount Carmel, as it forms a prominent protrusion along the northern coast of Israel. However, the discovery of

148. Sethe 1932: 103–​104; Strudwick 2005: 354–​355. 149. Sethe 1932: 104–​105; Strudwick 2005: 355.

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the Early Bronze Age III citadels in Southern Palestine seems to support the proposal by Pierre de Miroschedji, who identified the site of this battle with Jaffa near present-​day Tel Aviv, also a prominent point in the landscape of the region and possibly the location of the ancient fortress of Ida.150 Others have forwarded other reconstructions,151 and until more evidence becomes available, we must reserve judgment. It is much debated whether or whether not these Sand-​Dwellers migrated northward.152 But that Southern Palestine was a primary destination for Egyptian military operations for most of the Old Kingdom period is beyond doubt. The campaigns reported by Weni, important as they may have been at the time, do not seem to have had a lasting effect, as the tomb autobiography of Pepynakht from the end of the Old Kingdom still mentions destructive activities by rebellious populations in the region.

6.4.  Conclusions For the Old Kingdom period, the available sources, while providing much detail on certain topics, do not dwell on the theme of Egypt’s international relations. In official accounts, the interaction with the world outside Egypt was largely depicted in the form of stereotypical scenes of subjugation and tribute delivery, and the historical accuracy of such scenes is generally difficult to establish. The annalistic tradition that has been preserved only in fragments places much greater emphasis on the king’s role as a builder or priest, as it was not yet customary to present the king as the leader of the army, even if Egypt’s ability to dominate foreign lands was already emphasized.153 Sources from the later Old Kingdom period, dating mainly to the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties, when the genre of autobiographical narrative

150. Miroschedji 2012; on Ida see Begon 2016. 151. Most recently discussed by Gundacker 2017. 152. Gundacker 2017: 342–​376; Höflmayer 2017: 14–​15. 153. Spalinger 2017: 94.

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came into existence in the context of tomb decoration, present a much more complex and far more eventful image of Egypt’s relationship with the lands abroad, in which battles and military engagements are common. These sources also demonstrate that by this time the Egyptians had acquired an in-​depth knowledge of the neighboring regions, and that the state maintained a fleet that served both commercial and military functions. Finally, the available sources highlight Egypt’s ability to maintain commercial ties with very distant regions. The diplomatic gifts exchanged with Punt, Yam, and the coastal regions of Lebanon and Syria, and the occasional strengthening of those relationships through strategic alliances, contrast sharply with the brutality that the Egyptian forces directed against the more immediately adjacent territories; Lower Nubia, the Libyan coast, and Southern Palestine were frequently subject to raids that were intended to capture people in order to supplement Egypt’s workforce, and such raids alternated with campaigns of intimidation that were meant to keep these regions under Egyptian domination without ever occupying them permanently. It seems that in these border lands of Egypt’s military sphere of influence, the state only developed commercial relationships to the degree necessary to allow the unhindered movement of raw materials and exotic products into the Nile valley. R ef er en c es Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G. and Tallet, P. 2016. Ayn Soukhna, III: le complexe de galeries-​magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G., Tallet, P. and Fluzin, P. 2011. Ayn Soukhna, II:  Les ateliers métallurgiques du Moyen Empire. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G., Tallet, P. and Ghica, V. 2002. Les inscriptions d’Ayn Soukhna. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale.

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Agut-​Labordère, D. 2014. Créer la route: le canal des pharaons entre la Mer Rouge et la Méditerranée de Néchao II à Darius. EAO 75: 61–​66. Baines, J. and Parkinson, R.B. 1997. An Old Kingdom record of an oracle? Sinai inscription 13. In Van Dijk, J. (ed.), Essays on ancient Egypt in honour of Herman Te Velde. Groningen: Styx, 9–​27. Bard, C.A. and Fattovich, R. 2007. Harbor of the pharaohs to the land of Punt:  archaeological investigations at Marsa/​Wadi Gawasis, Egypt 2001–​ 2005. Naples: Universitá degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”. Bardinet, T. 2008. Relations économiques et pressions militaires en Méditerranée orientale et en Libye au temps des pharaons. Paris: Cybèle. Baud, M. 2002. Djoser et la IIIe dynastie. Paris: Pygmalion. Baud, M. and Dobrev, V. 1995. De nouvelles annales de l’Ancien Empire égyptien: une Pierre de Palerme pour la VIe dynastie. BIFAO 95: 23–​92. Bavay, L. 1997. Matière première et commerce à longue distance: le lapis-​lazuli et l’Égypte prédynastique. Archéo-​Nil 7: 79–​100. Bavay, L., De Putter, T., Adams, B.G., Navez, J. and André, L. 2000. The origin of obsidian in Predynastic and Early Dynastic Upper Egypt. MDAIK 56: 5–​20. Begon, M. 2016. Nédia, Dia ou bien plutôt Ida? La ‘campagne asiatique’ d’Inti de Deshasha (fin de la Ve dynastie) et le littoral sud de la Palestine durant la seconde moitié du IIIe millénaire Bronze Ancien III). Nehet 5: 1–​24. Bergmann, C. 2001. Der letzte Beduine. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Biga, M.G. and Roccati, A. 2012. Tra Egitto e Siria nel III millennio a.C. Atti della Accademia delle scienze di Torino 146: 17–​42. Bloxam, E. and Storemyr, P. 2002. Old Kingdom basalt quarrying activities at Widan el-​Faras, Northern Faiyum Desert. JEA 88: 23–​36. Bonnet, C. 2000. Edifices et rites funéraires à Kerma. Paris: Errance. Bonnet, C. 2004. Le temple principal de la ville de Kerma et son quartier religieux. Paris: Errance. Bonnet, C. and Valbelle, D. 2014. La ville de Kerma: une capitale nubienne au sud de l’Égypte. Lausanne: Favre. Borchardt, L. 1907. Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Neuserre. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Borchardt, L. 1913. Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Sahu-​re. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Cabon, O. (ed.) 2018. Histoire et civilisations du Soudan de la préhistoire à nos jours. Paris: Soleb. Castel, G. 1998. Les mines du Ouadi Um Balad (désert oriental). BIFAO 98: 57–​87.

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Castel, G., Pantalacci, L. and Cherpion, N. 2001. Le mastaba de Khentika: Tombeau d’un gouverneur de l’Oasis à la fin de l’Ancien Empire. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Castel, G. and Pouit, G. 1997. Anciennes mines métalliques dans la partie nord du désert oriental d’Égypte. Archéo-​Nil 7: 101–​112. Castel, G. and Soukiassian, G. 1989. Gebel el-​Zeit I: les mines de galène (Égypte, IIe millénaire av. J.-​C.). Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Castel, G. and Tallet, P. 2019. Ayn Soukhna, IV: études du matériel des galeries-​ magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Chartier-​ R aymond, M. 1988. Notes sur Maghara (Sinaï). CRIPEL 10: 13–​22. Chartier-​Raymond, M., Gratien, B., Traunecker, C. and Vincon, J.-​M. 1994. Les sites miniers du Sud-​Sinaï. CRIPEL 16: 31–​77. Collombert, P. 2015. Une nouvelle version de l’autobiographie d’Ouni. In Legros, R. (ed.), Cinquante ans d’éternité: jubilé de la mission archéologique française de Saqqara. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 145–​158. Couyat, J. and Montet, P. 2012. Les inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques du Ouadi Hammamat. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Creasman, P.P. and Wilkinson, R.H. (eds.) 2017. Pharaoh’s land and beyond. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Daressy, G. 1916. La Pierre de Palerme et la chronologie de l’Ancien Empire. BIFAO 12: 161–​214. Darnell, J.C. 2002. Theban desert road survey in the Egyptian Western Desert, vol. 1. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Diego Espinel, A. 2002. The role of the temple of Ba’alat Gebal as intermediary between Egypt and Byblos during the Old Kingdom. SAK 30: 103–​119. Diego Espinel, A. 2003. Antes del combate: la información sobre el enemigo y su execración durante el Reino Antiguo. In Alonso Baquer, M. et al. (eds.), La guerra en Oriente Próximo y Egipto. Madrid: Servicio de Publicaciones, Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, 317–​328. Diego Espinel, A. 2006. Etnicidad y territorio en el Egipto del Reino Antiguo. Barcelona:  Servei de Publicacions de la Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. Diego Espinel, A. 2011a. Abriendo los caminos de Punt: contactos entre Egipto y el ámbito afro-​árabe durante la Edad del Bronce (ca. 3000 a.C.–​1065 a.C.). Barcelona: Bellaterra arqueología.

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Diego Espinel, A. 2011b. Blocks from the Unas Causeway recorded in Cerny’s notebooks at the Griffith Institute, Oxford. In Strudwick, N. and Strudwick H. (eds.), Old Kingdom, new perspectives:  Egyptian art and archaeology, 2750–​2150 bc. Oxford: Oxbow, 50–​70. Diego Espinel, A. 2012. Egypt and the Levant during the Old Kingdom. Aula Orientalis 30: 359–​367. Diego Espinel, A. 2017. The scent of Punt (and elsewhere): trade and functions of snṯr and ʿntw during the Old Kingdom. In Incordino, I. and Creasman, P.P. (eds.), Flora trade between Egypt and Africa in antiquity. Oxford: Oxbow,  21–​48. Dunand, M. 1927. La cinquième campagne des fouilles de Byblos (mars-​juin 1926). Syria 8: 92–​104. Dunand, M. 1939. Fouilles de Byblos, I. Paris: Geuthner. Dunand, M. 1958. Fouilles de Byblos, II. Paris: Geuthner. Edel, E. 1955. Inschriften des Alten Reiches, V:  die Reiseberichte des Ḥrw-​ḫwjf (Herchuf ). In Firchow, O. (ed.), Ägyptologische Studien. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag,  51–​75. Edel, E. 1960. Nachträge zu den Reiseberichten des Ḥrw-​ḫwjf. ZÄS 85: 18–​23. Edel, E. 1983. Beiträge zu den ägyptischen Sinaiinschriften. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Edel, E. 1996. Studien zu den Relieffragmenten aus dem Taltempel des Königs Snofru. In Der Manuelian, P. and Freed, R. (eds.), Studies in honor of William Kelly Simpson. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 199–​208. Eichler, E. 1993. Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. El-​Awady, T. 2009. Abusir XVI: Sahure —​the pyramid causeway: history and decoration program in the Old Kingdom. Prague: Charles University. El-​Awady, T. 2011. The problem of Bȝt. In Callender, V.G. et al. (ed.), Times, signs and pyramids: studies in honour of Miroslav Verner. Prague: Charles University,  25–​30. Emery, W.B. 1963. Egypt Exploration Society: preliminary report on the excavations at Buhen, 1962. Kush 11: 116–​120. Engelbach, R. 1933. The quarries of the Western Nubian Desert: a preliminary report. ASAE 33: 65–​74. Engelbach, R. 1938. The quarries of the Western Nubian Desert and the ancient road to Toshka. ASAE 38: 369–​390.

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Fischer, H.G. 1959. A scribe of the army in a Saqqara mastaba of the early Fifth Dynasty. JNES 18: 263–​272. Fischer, H.G. 1985. More about the smn.tjw. GM 84: 25–​32. Förster, F. 2007. With donkeys, jars and water bags into the Libyan Desert: the Abu Ballas trail in the late Old Kingdom/​First Intermediate Period. BMSAES 7: 1–​39. Förster, F. 2015. Der Abu Ballas-​Weg: eine pharaonische Karawanenroute durch die Libysche Wüste. Cologne: Heinrich-​Barth-​Institut. Förster, F. and Riemer, H. (eds.) 2013. Desert Road archaeology. Cologne: Heinrich-​Barth-​Institut. Francis Allouche, M. and Grimal, N. 2016. The maritime approaches to ancient Byblos, Lebanon. Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 4: 242–​277. Gardiner, A.H., Peet, T.E. and Černý, J. 1952. The inscriptions of Sinai. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Giddy, L. 1987. Egyptian oases. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Goedicke, H. 1967. Königliche Dokumente aus den Alten Reich. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Goedicke, H. 1981. Harkhuf ’s travels. JNES 40: 1–​20. Goedicke, H. 1988. Yam -​More. GM 101: 35–​42. Gourdon, Y. 2014. Les nouvelles inscriptions rupestres de Hatnoub. BSFE 189: 26–​45. Gourdon, Y. 2016. Pépy Ier et la VIe dynastie. Paris: Pygmalion. Goyon, G. 1957. Nouvelles inscriptions du Ouadi Hammamat. Paris: Adrien-​Maisonneuve. Grandet, P. 2008. Les pharaons du Nouvel Empire:  une pensée stratégique. Monaco: Le Rocher. Gratien, B. 1995. La Basse Nubie à l’Ancien Empire. JEA 81: 43–​56. Grimal, N. 1985. Les noyés de Balat. In Geus, F. and Thill, F. (eds.), Mélanges offerts à Jean Vercoutter. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les civilisations, 111–​121. Grimal, N. and Francis Allouche, M. 2012. Nouvelles recherches archéologiques à Byblos. CRAIBL 2012/​1: 279–​302. Gundacker, R. 2006. Zwei Felsinschriften aus der Zeit Snofrus. Sokar 13: 70–​73. Gundacker, R. 2017. The significance of foreign toponyms and ethnonyms in Old Kingdom text sources. In Höflmayer, F. (ed.), The late third

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millennium in the ancient Near East: chronology, C14 and climate change. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 333–​428. Harrell, J.A. and Brown, T.M. 1995. An Old Kingdom basalt quarry at Widan el-​Faras and the quarry road to Lake Moeris in the Fayum, Egypt. JARCE 32: 71–​91. Höflmayer, F. 2017. The late third millennium bc in the ancient Near East and Eastern Mediterranean:  a time of collapse and transformation. In Höflmayer, F. (ed.), The late third millennium in the ancient Near East: chronology, C14 and climate change. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1–​30. Ibrahim, M.R. and Tallet, P. 2009. King Den in South-​Sinai:  the earliest monumental rock inscription of the Pharaonic period. Archéo-​Nil 19: 179–​184. Jequier, G. 1940. Le monument funéraire de Pépi II/​3: les approches du temple. Cairo: Service des antiquités de l’Égypte. Kaiser, W. et  al. 1976. Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine:  sechster Grabungsbericht. MDAIK 32: 67–​112. Kanawati, N. and MacFarlane, A. 1993. Deshasha: the tombs of Inti, Shedu and others. Sydney: Australian Centre for Egyptology. Kuhlmann, K.-​P. 2002. The “oasis bypath” or the issue of desert trade in Pharaonic times. In Lenssen-​Erz, T., Tegtmeier, U. and Kröpelin, S. (eds.), Tides of the desert:  contributions to the archaeology and environmental history of Africa in honour of Rudolph Kuper. Cologne:  Heinrich-​Barth-​ Institut, 125–​170. Kuhlmann, K.P. 2005. Der “Wasserberg des Djedefre” (Chufu 01/​1). MDAIK 61: 243–​289. Labrousse, A. and Lauer, J.-​P. 2000. Les complexes funéraires d’Ouserkaf et de Néferhétepès. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Labrousse, A. and Moussa, A. 2002. La chaussée du complexe funéraire du roi Ounas. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Leclant, J. 1980. La famille libyenne au temple haut de Pepi Ier. In Vercoutter, J. (ed.), Livre du Centenaire, 1880–​1980. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale,  49–​54. Lehner, M. 1997. The complete pyramids. London: Thames & Hudson. Marcolin, M. and Diego Espinel, A. 2011. The Sixth Dynasty biographic inscriptions of Iny: more pieces to the puzzle. In Barta, M., Coppens, P.

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and Krejči, J. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2010. Prague: Charles University, 570–​615. Meeks, D. 1997. Navigation maritime et navires égyptiens: les éléments d’une controverse. In García, D. and Meeks, D. (eds.), Techniques et économies antiques et médiévales: le temps de l’innovation, Paris: Errance, 175–​194. Meeks, D. 2002. Coptos et les chemins de Pount. Paris: De Boccard. Miroschedji, P. de. 2012. Egypt and southern Canaan in the third millennium bce: Uni’s Asiatic campaigns revisited. In Gruber, M. et al. (ed.), All the wisdom of the East: studies in Near Eastern archaeology and history in honor of Eliezer D. Oren. Fribourg: Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 265–​292. Miroschedji, P. de. 2015. Les relations entre l’Égypte et le Levant aux IVe et IIIe millénaires à la lumière des fouilles de Tell es-​Sakan. CRAIBL 2015/​ 2: 1003–​1038. Miroschedji, P. de and Sadek, M. 2001. Gaza et l’Égypte de l’époque prédynastique à l’Ancien Empire: premiers résultats de la fouille de Tell es-​Sakan. BSFE 152: 41–​46. Miroschedji, P. de et al. 2007. Les fouilles de Tell es-​Sakan (Gaza): nouvelles données sur les contacts égypto-​cananéens aux IVe et Ve millénaires. Paléorient 27: 75–​104. Moeller, N. 2016. The archaeology of urbanism in ancient Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Montet, P. 1928. Byblos et l’Égypte:  quatre campagnes de fouilles 1921–​1924. Paris: Geuthner. Moreno García, J.C. 1999. Ḥwt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire. Paris: Honoré Champion. Mumford, G. 2006. Tell Ras Budran (site 345): defining Egypt’s eastern frontier and mining operations in South Sinai during the late Old Kingdom (Early EB IV/​MB I). BASOR 342: 13–​67. Mumford, G. and Parcak, S. 2003. Pharaonic ventures into South Sinai:  el-​ Markha Plain site 346. JEA 89: 83–​116. Obsomer, C. 2006. Hirkhouf et la localisation de Yam. In El-​Saeed, E. (ed.), The Festschrift volume:  a collection of studies presented to Professor Abdel Monem Abdel Haleem Sayed. Alexandria:  University of Alexandria, 275–​292.

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Obsomer, C. 2007. Les expéditions d’Herkhouf (VIe dynastie) et la localisation de Iam. In Bruwier, M.-​C. (ed.), Pharaons noirs:  sur la Piste des Quarante Jours. Morlanwelz: Musée Royal de Mariemont, 39–​52. O’Connor, D. 1986. The locations of Yam and Kush and their historical implications. JARCE 23: 27–​50. O’Connor, D. 2014. The Old Kingdom town of Buhen. London:  Egypt Exploration Society. Osing, J. 1976. Ächtungstexte aus dem Alten Reich. MDAIK 32: 133–​185. Pantalacci, L. 1998. La documentation épistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à Balat/​Ayn Asil. BIFAO 98: 303–​315. Petrie, W.M.F. 1898. Deshasheh, 1897. London: Egypt Exploration Fund. Petrie, W.M.F. 1906. Researches in Sinai. London: John Murray. Prag, K. 1978. Silver in the Levant in the fourth millennium bc. In Moorey, P. and Parr, P. (eds.), Archaeology in the Levant: essays for Kathleen Kenyon. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 36–​45. Redford, D.B. 1992. Egypt, Canaan and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rilly, C. 2017. Histoire du Soudan de ses origines à la chute du sultanat de Fung. In Cabon, O. et al. (ed.), Histoire et civilisations du Soudan. Paris: Soleb, 26–​445. Roccati, A. 1982. La littérature historique sous l’Ancien Empire. Paris: Cerf. Roccati, A. 2012. Una miniera di turchese di epoca faraonica nel deserto occidentale egiziano. Atti della Accademia delle scienze de Torino 146: 43–​55. Rothenberg, B. 1987. Pharaonic copper mines in South Sinai. Institute for Archaeo-​Metallurgical Studies 10/​11: 1–​7. Sayed, A.M. 1977. Discovery of the site of 12th Dynasty port at Wadi Gawasis on the Red Sea shore. RdE 29: 140–​178. Scandone Matthiae, G. 1981. I vasi egiziani in pietra del Palazzo Reale G. Studia Eblaitica 4: 99–​127. Scandone Matthiae, G. 1988. Les relations entre Ebla et l’Égypte au IIIe et au IIe millénaire av. J.-​Chr. In Waetzoldt, H. and Hauptmann, H. (eds.), Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft von Ebla. Heidelberg:  Heidelberger Orientverlag,  67–​73. Schneider, T. 2015. The Old Kingdom abroad:  an epistemological perspective, with remarks on the biography of Iny and the kingdom of Dugurasu. In Der Manuelian, P. and Schneider, T. (eds.), Toward a new history for

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the Egyptian Old Kingdom: perspectives on the Pyramid Age. Leiden: Brill, 429–​455. Sethe, K. 1932. Urkunden des Alten Reichs, I. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Seyfried, K.J. 1976. Nachträge zu Yoyotte “les smntjw”. GM 20: 45–​47. Shaw, I. 2003. New fieldwork at Gebel el-​Asr: “Chephren Diorite Quarries”. In Hawass, Z. (ed.), Egyptology at the dawn of the twenty-​first century. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 448–​454. Somaglino, C. and Tallet, P. 2014. Une campagne en Nubie sous la Ire dynastie: la scène nagadienne du Gebel Sheikh Suleiman comme prototype et modèle. Nehet I: 1–​46. Soukiassian, G. (ed.) 2013. Balat, XI: monuments funéraires du palais et de la nécropole. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Soukiassian, G., Wuttmann, M. and Pantalacci, L. 1990. Balat, III: les ateliers de potiers d’Ayn Asil: fin de l’Ancien Empire, Première Période Intermédiaire. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Soukiassian, G., Wuttmann, M. and Pantalacci, L. 2002. Balat, VI: le palais des gouverneurs de l’époque de Pépy II; les sanctuaires de ka et leurs dépendances. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Sowada, K. 2009. Egypt in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Old Kingdom:  an archaeological perspective. Fribourg:  Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Spalinger, A. 2017. The armies of Re. In Creasman, P.P. and Wilkinson, R.H. (eds.), Pharaoh’s land and beyond: ancient Egypt and its neighbors. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 93–​111. Strudwick, N. 1985. The administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. London: Kegan Paul International. Strudwick, N. 2005. Texts from the Pyramid Age. Atlanta, GA:  Society of Biblical Literature Press. Tallet, P. 2012. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, I: catalogue complémentaire des inscriptions du Sinaï. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2015a. Les “ports intermittents” de la mer Rouge à l’époque pharaonique: caractéristiques et chronologie. Nehet 3: 31–​72. Tallet, P. 2015b. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, II: les inscriptions pré-​et proto-​ dynastiques du Ouadi ‘Ameyra. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale.

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Tallet, P. 2017. Les papyrus de la Mer Rouge, I: le “journal de Merer” (papyrus Jarf A et B). Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2018. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, III: les expéditions égyptiennes dans la zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï du prédynastique à la fin de la XXe dynastie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2019a. Le matériel inscrit d’Ayn Soukhna (2002–​2016). In Castel, G. and Tallet, P. (eds.), Ayn Soukhna, IV: études du matériel des galeries-​ magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 1–​117. Tallet, P. 2019b. “Bat” and the “Fortress of Khufu” in the Wadi el-​Jarf logbooks. In Piacentini, P. and Delli Casrelli, A. (eds.), Old Kingdom art and archaeology. Milan: Libreria Antiquaria Pontremoli, 58–​67. Tallet, P. 2019c. Des nains, des étoffes et des bijoux: le papyrus de Nefer-​Irou au Ouadi el-​Jarf. In Vuilleumier, S. and Meyrat, P. (eds.), Sur les pistes du desert: mélanges offerts à Michel Valloggia. Gollion: Interfolio, 217–​226. Tallet, P., Castel G. and Fluzin, P. 2012. Metallurgical sites of South Sinai in the Pharaonic era: new discoveries. Paléorient 37: 79–​89. Tallet, P. and Marouard, G. 2014. The harbor of Khufu on the Red Sea coast at Wadi al-​Jarf, Egypt. NEA 77: 4–​14. Tallet, P. and Marouard, G. 2016. The harbor facilities of king Khufu on the Red Sea shore: the Wadi el-​Jarf/​Tell Ras Budran system. JARCE 52: 135–​177. Tallet, P., Marouard, G. and Laisney, D. 2012. Un port de la IVe dynastie au Ouadi el-​Jarf (Mer Rouge). BIFAO 112: 399–​446. Tristant, Y. 2012. Nouvelles découvertes dans le Désert Oriental:  le Ouadi Araba de la préhistoire à l’époque copte. BSFE 182: 33–​53. Valbelle, D. 1990. Les Neuf Arcs: l’Égyptien et les étrangers de la préhistoire à la conquête d’Alexandre. Paris: Armand Colin. Valbelle, D. and Bonnet, C. 1996. Le sanctuaire d’Hathor, maîtresse de la turquoise: Serabit el-​Khadim au Moyen Empire. Paris: Picard. Valbelle, D. and Bonnet, C. (eds.) 1998. Le Sinaï durant l’antiquité et le Moyen Âge: 4000 ans d’histoire pour un désert. Paris: Errance. Valloggia, M. 1998. Le monument funéraire d’Ima-​Pepy/​Ima-​Meryrê. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Vandersleyen, C. 1996. Les monuments de l’Ouadi Gaouasis et la possibilité d’aller au pays de Pount par la Mer Rouge. RdE 47: 107–​115. Yoyotte, J. 1953. Pour une localisation du pays de Yam. BIFAO 52: 173–​178.

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Yoyotte, J. 1975. Les sementiou et l’exploration des régions minières à l’Ancien Empire. BSFE 73: 44–​55. Wilkinson, T.A. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London and New York: Routledge. Wilkinson, T.A. 2000. Royal annals of ancient Egypt. London:  Kegan Paul International. Willeitner, J. 2003. Die ägyptischen Oasen: Städte, Tempel und Gräber in der Libyschen Wüste. Mainz: Zabern.

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Egypt’s Old Kingdom Perspectives on Culture and Society Richard Bussmann

7.1.  Introduction The Old Kingdom is the first period in world history of centralized political authority extending over a large territory (see ­figure 7.1).1 Egyptian society of the Old Kingdom exhibits typical features of early complex societies, such as kingship, central administration, writing, a distinct elite culture, labor division, and nascent urbanism. Many conventions in art and writing used throughout pharaonic history were developed during the Old Kingdom. In ancient Egyptian literary texts of later periods, the Old Kingdom is an exemplary setting for narratives about origins and core values.2

1. I am grateful to John Baines for detailed comments and corrections and to Bart Vanthuyne, Juan Carlos Moreno García, and Miroslav Bárta for feedback on a previous draft of this chapter. The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. 2. Tait  2003. Richard Bussmann, Egypt’s Old Kingdom In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0008.

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Figure  7.1a.  Sites mentioned in c­hapter  7. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

A large proportion of research into the Old Kingdom is centered on the development of elite institutions.3 A social history that follows the contours of the monumental evidence can be summarized as a series of successive processes, from colonization in the early Old Kingdom through bureaucratization to demotization in the late Old Kingdom, followed by the collapse of the state and the emergence of local patrons.4 To 3. Málek 2000; Moreno García 2004; Baud 2010; Bárta 2011. 4. Assmann 1996: 60–​67.

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Figure 7.1b.    

flesh out this summary a little, centralization of Egyptian society reached its peak—​with the region around Memphis, near modern Cairo, emerging as the exclusive location of pyramids and court cemeteries—​during the Third and Fourth Dynasties. This went hand in hand with increased efforts by the central administration to colonize the hinterland through royal foundations scattered across nomes (administrative districts) and designed to deliver supplies for the royal mortuary cult. In the Fifth Dynasty, the assignment of the highest administrative offices was no longer based exclusively on ties of kinship with the king. More and more officials began to include biographical texts in their tomb inscriptions, which shed light on life and values at court. The kings of this period erected temples for the sun god next to their pyramids. Toward the end of the dynasty, sun temples ceased being built and funerary spells, the Pyramid

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Figure 7.1c.    

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Texts, were recorded on the walls of the burial chambers of kings (and later of queens). From the early Sixth Dynasty onward, court officials were increasingly sent into the provincial hinterland to represent royal authority. They combined courtly modes of display with local administrative offices, particularly the office of chief priest in local temples. After the collapse of the state at the end of the Old Kingdom, provincial culture started flourishing in Upper Egypt. Lower and Middle Egypt were ruled by the truncated successor to the Old Kingdom state, the capital of which was at Herakleopolis. The country was reunited toward the beginning of the Middle Kingdom, in the mid-​Eleventh Dynasty, by kings originating from the milieu of provincial governors based at Thebes. In a seminal overview of the Old and Middle Kingdoms, Barry Kemp proposed that the society of this period was structured in a hierarchical fashion: from king and royal family to the courtiers and on to the lower-​ranking administrators; from the central administration to that of the provinces, and here in particular the local governors (nomarchs).5 During the period of roughly four hundred years that encompassed the late Old Kingdom and the first half of the Middle Kingdom, local governors played an important role in mediating between the crown and the provincial hinterland. In a later article, Kemp coined the term “nomarchy” for this era.6 In his book Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization, Kemp explored provincial culture beyond administrative elites, arguing that Egypt in the Old Kingdom was a country of two cultures, central and local.7 Both the model of the two cultures and the nomarchy are discussed below. Bruce Trigger compared Egypt during the Old and Middle Kingdoms with other early civilizations.8 He distinguished three social classes: the king and his family, the upper class, and the commoners. According to Trigger, members of the upper class owned land and derived their wealth

5. Kemp 1983. 6. Kemp 1995: 38–​46. 7. Kemp  2006. 8. Trigger  2003.

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from administrative offices, whereas commoners depended on upper-​ class households and carried out manual labor. This group would have included scribes, soldiers, police, and specialized craftsmen, as well as peasants, the latter amounting to 80 percent of the population. Trigger believed that slaves were not numerous in Old and Middle Kingdom Egypt and that social mobility was restricted due to offices and professions being inherited. He rightly emphasized that owning land was a principal source of income and that whether one was or was not engaged in manual labor was a dividing line between social classes. However, since Trigger stressed commonalities between the societies he compared, his account is sometimes difficult to reconcile with the available record, which reveals much diachronic change. Moreover, the culturally specific forms and contexts in which status, identities, and relationships were displayed and enacted remain obscure. One of the challenges in writing a cultural and social history of the Old Kingdom is the limited range of written sources known from this period, with literary texts largely absent. More documentary evidence is available, but apart from the administrative titles of courtiers and the naming patterns of royal domains, it is too unevenly distributed to show clear diachronic trends or to differentiate patterns from exceptional cases.9 Because most Old Kingdom written and visual sources were intended for the central administration and for royal and elite display, syntheses, including those based on the archaeological record, tend to be produced at the level of kingship and the state, as discussed in ­chapters 5 and 6. Historians disagree on definitions of cultural and social history. Traditionally, cultural history has been understood to be the history of ideas, and usually the ideas and styles of the elite have been interpreted as epitomizing a culture, while social history has been understood to be the history of structures, such as state organizations, social classes, and economic systems. In the second half of the twentieth century, agent-​ based approaches emerged that foregrounded, among other things, the

9. Eyre  1987.

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interdependence of practices and representations, everyday strategies of appropriation, and small-​scale contexts of historical inquiry.10 Drawing on these debates, this chapter takes as a guiding principle the diachronic development of, and exchange between, central and local milieus. It explores to what extent social conditions shaped the production of knowledge and offers a glimpse of both the diversity and coherence within Old Kingdom society. The first section (section 7.2) outlines changes in royal ideology and court society. The second section explores funerary culture, emphasizing social diversity as well as considering questions of funerary belief and diachronic change. The discussion of settlements in the third section adopts a typological and chronological perspective on urban growth. The fourth section develops thoughts on cultural diversity and the role of provincial community shrines, followed by an outline of the early nomarchy in the fifth section. The final section offers a broader view of some principal features of Old Kingdom society and culture.

7.2.  Kingship and court society Most of the evidence for Old Kingdom kingship and court society comes from funerary contexts and ranges from the architecture of pyramids, the tombs of courtiers, and the statues associated with them to tomb decoration and inscriptions. Of the settlements in which these courtiers lived there are only a few preserved remains, and no remains of royal palaces have so far been identified in the archaeological record. To what degree inferences about kings and courtiers based on their tombs would be corroborated by evidence from other contexts is difficult to say. However, it would be wrong to disregard the available material as reflecting only ideology or funerary concepts. A more productive approach is to understand elite culture, or “high culture,” as a discourse with its own dynamics and practices articulated predominantly in Old Kingdom funerary contexts but embracing non-​funerary themes as well.11

10. Chartier 1988; Bonnell and Biernacki 1999; Burke 2004. 11. Baines and Yoffee 1998.

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The following paragraphs are not much concerned with the history of the state, the administration, and the complex system of rank at court, studied extensively on the basis of prosopography.12 Rather, here the aim is to outline the diachronic development of the courtly milieu as a whole.13 Kingship is embedded in and at the center of court society, which is why the two phenomena are best discussed together.14 The Old Kingdom is particularly susceptible to being interpreted in terms of sacred kingship because of the superhuman monumentality of royal pyramids and because kings of the Old Kingdom were designated netjer, a word conventionally translated as “god” in English. At the level of iconography, kings and gods are depicted with similar attributes that set them apart from others. However, royal epithets and activities differ from those of deities. Kings appear not to have been gods but only to have interacted with them face to face. Overall, Old Kingdom monuments focus on demonstrating what the king is, whereas there is little presentation of what a deity is beyond his or her relationship to the king. Speculative thought was dominated by “royalogy” much more than by “theology,” a realm of discourse that unfolded only in the later religious history of Egypt.15 Earlier discussions of sacred kingship in anthropology and Egyptology culminated in Henri Frankfort’s comparative Kingship and the Gods.16 Despite the merits of this book, its weak consideration of historical context and the imbalance of religious and monumental evidence used for Egypt, in opposition to its use of administrative texts for Mesopotamia, make it a difficult source for modeling kingship in the Old Kingdom and its development through time.

12. Baer 1960; Kanawati 1977; Strudwick 1985. 13. “Court society” is defined in this chapter as the community at court, following Elias 1969. 14. Bárta 2013. 15. Assmann 1983. 16. Frankfort 1948; critique and fresh comparative discussions:  Wengrow 1999; Brisch 2008; Hill et al. 2013.

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Wolfgang Helck believed that the prehistoric ancestors of Egyptian kings were purely divine beings and only descended into the world of humans during the Old Kingdom, when the state became increasingly complex and power had to be shared with non-​royal officials.17 His argument has been extended into the Middle Kingdom by scholars who have argued that the explanation of kingship in Middle Kingdom literature reflects a growing mistrust in an institution that was uncontested during the Old Kingdom.18 While the negotiation of kingship in literary texts might indeed reflect a higher degree of contestation, archaeological and pictorial evidence from the Old Kingdom shows that kingship evolved throughout the third millennium bc and that different options for thinking about kingship were already available at that time.19 Unlike Helck, the anthropologist Declan Quigley has argued that kings have to be actively made into beings of a different order, often in ways that may seem irrational, for example, by overloading them with gold and jewelry or not allowing them to touch the ground.20 Kings may not be involved in political decision-​making, yet they still represent the cosmic and ritual well-​being of society, reigning rather than ruling. According to Quigley, social ties, for example to their families, can be severed so that all members of society are able to relate equally to the king. Quigley’s model may not describe Old Kingdom kingship very well. Royal family ties, for example, remained important throughout the Old Kingdom.21 The available sources tell us very little about the role of kings in day-​to-​day political business, not even in the New Kingdom, for which source material is more abundant.22 However, Quigley has raised the question that forms the analytical focus of the following outline: How was the king positioned in relation to others? In particular, 17. Helck 1954. 18. Posener 1956; Assmann 1990: 54–​57. 19. Baines 1997; Stockfisch 2003. 20. Quigley 2005. 21. Baud 1999. 22. Bickel 2002. I am grateful to John Baines for suggesting this reference to me.

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how were new relationships established and negotiated between kings and gods on the one hand, and kings and courtiers on the other? The iconographic display of Egyptian kingship is attested at least as early as the Narmer Palette, dedicated to the falcon god Horus, from the temple precinct of Hierakonpolis in Upper Egypt. On one side of the palette, the king is represented facing a falcon figure, and his name is written in a serekh (rectangle representing a palace facade) surmounted with a depiction of Horus. On the reverse side, the king is shown with distinct royal regalia, accompanied by his courtiers depicted on a smaller scale. This arrangement is paralleled in the spatial organization of the royal tombs of the First Dynasty at Abydos. Each tomb is surrounded by rows of subsidiary burial chambers of equal size. Similar arrangements are known from non-​royal tombs, such as those at Saqqara, Naqada, Tarkhan, Giza, and Abu Rawash. If one considers all the Early Dynastic material together, setting aside potentially conflicting evidence, the relationship between the king and the gods is not entirely explicit. It may be described as an association of the reigning king with Horus in the case of the Narmer Palette. Comparatively speaking, the relationship to the courtiers is clearer. The king is embedded in the community of the courtiers, who are imagined as being equal, or almost so, among one another regardless of their actual age, gender, or position at court. The imitation of royal funerary arrangements by non-​royal individuals suggests that the relationship kings had to their courtiers was not an exclusively royal model. The situation changed significantly at the beginning of the Third Dynasty. The step pyramid of king Djoser at Saqqara has no equal in the country. It is set in a large plaza lined with dummy chapels and used for the sed-​festival, a ritual to celebrate kingship. The plaza continues a tradition of similar open courts known since the late Predynastic period.23 Scenes of the ritual displayed on panels in the subterranean chambers below the pyramid depict rituals of the sed-​festival that were probably performed in this open courtyard. The panels show the king standing in

23. McNamara 2008.

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front of chapels identical to those that line the plaza above ground.24 The chapels and the depiction of standards and falcons surrounding the king imply divine presence. Fragments of a small shrine dedicated by Djoser in the temple of Heliopolis show the king seated with his wife and daughter facing a group of gods.25 The deities hand over life, dominion, sed-​festivals, and other royal prerogatives to the king. They probably belong to the “Heliopolitan Ennead,” a group of nine deities from different generations beginning with the sun god Atum, who created the world, and ending with Horus, the reigning king. The decoration of the shrine asserts emphatically that kingship is derived from the gods. Moreover, it presents the world of the gods as structured around kingship. In other words, the institution of kingship was divinized as much as the gods were royalized. During the Fourth Dynasty, the pyramid and court cemeteries moved more than 70 km from Meidum in the south to Dahshur, Giza, and Abu Rawash in the north, then back to Giza and finally to Saqqara.26 Since the location of the royal palace and the living quarters of the courtiers is not known, it is difficult to say whether the courtiers lived where they were buried and whether this influenced the choice for the location of the corresponding royal cemetery.27 However, the migration indicates that court society was relatively mobile and not yet as intimately tied to a place as it was in later dynasties. Khufu, the second king of the Fourth Dynasty, built a gigantic pyramid at Giza surrounded by smaller pyramids for the queens, very large tombs for the princes to the east, and smaller tombs for other courtiers to the west of the pyramid.28 Differing from the royal tombs of the First Dynasty, the Giza cemetery embodies a ranked court community. Khufu restricted the tomb decorations of courtiers to only a simple slab

24. Friedman  1995. 25. Smith 1949: 132–​137. 26. Bárta 2005. 27. Moeller 2016, 158–​161. 28. Jánosi 2005.

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mounted above the offering niche. Hermann Junker coined the term “austere style” to describe the appearance of the tombs.29 According to Junker, all attention was meant to be directed toward the pyramid of the king rather than to the splendor of his courtiers. Later additions, changes, and the use of tombs by individuals different from those for whom they were planned demonstrate the difference between the imagined model and actual practice. Social engineering, as reflected in the Khufu cemetery, looked back to similar attempts under his predecessor Sneferu, but it does not seem to have been a standard practice in later dynasties.30 Major social processes at the royal court of the Fourth Dynasty can be recognized in the centralization and stratification of the core elite. On the level of ideology, royal names refer increasingly to the sun god Ra. The designation of the king as “son of Ra,” later a popular royal title, is first attested in the reign of Radjedef and implies a subordinate position of the king to the sun god. A group of statues from the valley temple of Menkaura show the king flanked by the goddess Hathor and deities symbolizing a nome.31 Nome symbols followed by female offering bearers, each representing a royal domain, are also displayed on the earlier reliefs in the valley temple of king Sneferu. Nomes and domains were thus the entities by which the crown conceptualized and shaped the hinterland of Egypt for the purposes of taxation and funding the royal mortuary cult. Whereas in the early Old Kingdom the deceased kings were provisioned with offerings placed in their burial apartments, the focus shifted in the Fourth Dynasty toward the mortuary cult carried out after the funeral.32 The Fifth Dynasty marks a turning point in the history of kingship and the court on various levels. The kings of this dynasty built sun temples close to their pyramids to strengthen their ties to Ra. Given the tradition of associating the royal tomb with structures for celebrating kingship, the sun temples are perhaps best understood as cultic arenas

29. Junker 1940: 74–​81. 30. Stadelmann 1995. 31. Friedman 2015. 32. Roth 1993.

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for the king to encounter the sun god during the sed-​festival.33 They feature prominently in the papyrus archives of the mortuary cult for kings Neferirkara and Raneferef, buried at Abusir.34 The documents shed light on the network of institutions and officials who provided and received food at court, as well as giving an indication of the cultic activities performed during the daily offering ritual and at various festivals throughout the year.35 By the Fifth Dynasty, the royal mortuary cult had become the major engine for the economic integration of the country.36 The decoration of the pyramid complex of Sahura, the best-​preserved example of the Fifth Dynasty, offers further insights into the relationship of the king to the gods. Processions of deities, of the “souls of Heliopolis,” of divine figures personifying the inundation, and of domains and nomes were probably directed toward the king. The king is depicted celebrating the sed-​festival, being suckled by Nekhbet—​the patron goddess of Upper Egypt, who is accompanied in this scene by the ram-​headed god Khnum (see figure 7.2, left)—​and making offerings to the goddess Bastet, a rare instance in the Old Kingdom of the king giving to a deity rather than receiving benefits from him or her. The explicitness of the preserved images, which represent only a fraction of the decorative program in the pyramid complex of Sahura, can perhaps be interpreted as a response to conflicting views on the relationship between the king and the gods. The increased use of images reflects an intention to codify which interpretation was officially sanctioned, and which alternative options were excluded. Other scenes present the king in relation to his courtiers. Sahura is shown coming forth with his sons and other officials, represented on a small scale behind him (see figure 7.2, right), hunting in the desert, fishing, and fowling in the papyrus marshes, in addition to scenes of slaughtering cattle for the funerary offering, and ritual dancers. Some of these

33. Nuzzolo 2015. 34. Posener-​Kriéger 1976; Posener-​Kriéger et al. 2006. 35. Vymazalova 2001. 36. Helck 1975: 45–​51.

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Figure 7.2.  Wall decoration in the pyramid temple of Sahura, Fifth Dynasty. Left: King Sahura suckled by the goddess Nekhbet, behind her the ram-​headed god Khnum; another female figure on the left, presumably a goddess. Right: King Sahura emerging; behind him in three rows princes and other high officials. After Borchardt 1913: Blatt 18 and 33. Courtesy Deutsche Orientgesellschaft.

scenes belong to the repertoire of the tomb decoration of courtiers.37 This overlap may hint at a stronger competition between kings and high-​ ranking officials in the Fifth Dynasty. Seen in this light, the combined representation of kings and a selected range of courtiers sent out a twofold message: it honored the courtiers depicted but also demonstrated their subordination to the king. The “sole companion of the king” and “royal hairdresser” Ty is an example of a very high-​ranking official of the Fifth Dynasty. He held the titles “keeper of the secret of the morning house,” “keeper of the secret at the places of the palace,” and “keeper of the secret of the secret speeches of the god’s word.”38 Offerings for the deceased Ty were placed in front of a niched false door inscribed with his name and titles. The false door is located in the inner part of the accessible area of the tomb, next to a chamber with small windows, a serdab, which originally contained a statue of Ty. The wall scenes in the corridor, in the court, and on the

37. Harpur 1987. 38. Épron et al. 1939; Wild 1953; 1966.

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pillars show different stages of the funerary ritual, such as offering bearers, processions with the statues of Ty and dancers, and a procession of domains delivering food for the mortuary cult, as well as an image of Ty being carried in a palanquin, an almost exact copy of a scene from the pyramid complex of king Nyuserra. Other scenes depict Ty fishing, fowling, or supervising craftsmen engaged in various activities such as woodworking, manufacturing cylinder seals, pottery making, and administration, and people producing food, such as fishermen and peasants. The range of scenes is broad but highly selective. The activities represented emphasize the public contexts of Ty’s life, in which his wealth was particularly overt. Ty is not shown interacting with his peers, parents, the king, or a deity. Apart from the female members of Ty’s household, very few women are depicted. His wife, the “sole female companion of the king” and “priestess of Hathor,” is only shown in a subordinate position to her husband. The entire decoration of this tomb, like other court tombs, is developed from the perspective of a high-​ranking male courtier. Tomb inscriptions and decoration refer to real events in the life of a courtier as much as they reflect practices of imitating, copying, and modifying images and texts displayed in the tombs of other courtiers. A cluster of late Fifth Dynasty tombs at Giza, of much smaller size than the tomb of Ty, shows signs of interaction within a group.39 The owners of these tombs are related to each other not by family ties but by their shared office. They are all “palace attendants.” Idiosyncratic stylistic features suggest that the same artist or workshop decorated the tombs. One can speculate that the members of this community observed each other before making decisions on the selection and placement of scenes. If adherence to shared standards had greater value than individual choice, peer observation might have contributed to restricting the range of themes displayed in inscriptions and scenes. In this competitive climate, the biography, a productive text genre throughout pharaonic history, was further developed as a means for self-​representation.40 Biographies of the early and mid-​Fifth Dynasty 39. Roth 1995. 40. Kloth 2002; Stauder-​Porchet 2017.

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emphasize the generosity of the king toward the official whose life is recorded. The chief physician Nyankhsekhmet proudly claimed that the king had two false doors of high-​quality limestone from Tura brought for him.41 Direct interaction with the king was honorable but potentially difficult. The “sem priest” and “keeper of ritual equipment” Rawer was touched by the king’s scepter (or he damaged it), whereupon the king, according to a royal decree displayed in Rawer’s tomb, gave reassurance that this incident should not have negative consequences for him.42 Another official, Washptah, was struck by a seizure during a royal inspection and was allowed to kiss the king’s feet rather than only the ground before his feet.43 These examples demonstrate that the physical body of the king and his regalia were imbued with dangerous power.44 In the later Fifth Dynasty, two principal types of biographies emerged, the career biography and the “ideal biography.”45 Career biographies mention promotion in office awarded by the king or missions carried out for him, although direct interaction with him as in the examples above is exceptional. In contrast, ideal biographies express the courtier’s commitment to social and religious norms. The formulae used in ideal biographies, as in the following passage from the early Sixth Dynasty tomb of Kaiaper at Saqqara, laid the foundation for the ethics of the nomarchs in the First Intermediate Period: I came forth from my town, I went down from my nome. I did justice for its lord, I satisfied the god with what he loves. I gave bread to the hungry, clothes to the naked.

41. Strudwick 2005: 302–​303, no. 225; early Fifth Dynasty. 42. Strudwick 2005: 305–​306, no. 227. 43. Strudwick 2005: 318–​320, no. 235; middle of Fifth Dynasty. 44. Helck 1954: 65–​67. 45. Kloth 2002, who distinguishes more sharply between biographies mentioning promotion in office and those reporting commissions for the king.

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I ferried the one who had no boat. I speak what is good and repeat what is good.46 The development of career and ideal biographies during the Fifth Dynasty is interpreted here as a strategy by courtiers to define new modes of distinction in a period when court society had begun to coalesce and the range of titles had expanded. The end of the dynasty demarcates a leap in the written traditions of the Old Kingdom. King Unas is the first king who had Pyramid Texts written on the walls of his burial apartments. The texts were copied from papyrus documents and embrace a range of types, such as ritual instructions and sacerdotal texts used for the royal funeral and apotropaic spells.47 Key ideas that might have long predated the inscription of the texts in the royal burial chambers revolve around the identification of the deceased king with Osiris, the lord of the netherworld, and the king joining the solar barge to travel with the sun god and his crew over the sky. The reference to Osiris suggests that the Osiris myth, which negotiates difficulties of the royal succession, had developed by this time. The Pyramid Texts probably derived from a corpus of texts written on a variety of media.48 The reasons for inscribing them in the royal burial chambers are obscure. Harold Hays argued that this “entextualization,” as he termed it, reflects an extension in the usage of the texts from practice to knowledge.49 Knowledge was important social currency for distinction at court, as indicated by the widespread title hery-​sesheta (keeper of the secret), which Ty, for instance, bore.50 Hays pointed out that certain ideas articulated in the Pyramid Texts, especially the ritual transformation of the dead individual into a secure deceased being, were

46. Hassan and Kanawati 1996: pl. 50. 47. Allen 2015; Hays 2012. 48. Baines  2004. 49. Hays  2015. 50. Baines 1990.

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shared between kings and courtiers, implying that royal funerary beliefs were less exclusive than is usually assumed in Egyptology. Perhaps the recording of Pyramid Texts can be interpreted as a further means of setting the king apart from rival courtiers in a period when the differences between the king and his close entourage began to diminish. In the Sixth Dynasty, central administration engaged more closely with provincial affairs. Court officials were sent into the hinterland as local administrators and started settling there permanently. They brought ideas and modes of courtly display with them. Although the decoration and biographies in their tombs made references to local contexts, in essence these officials were courtiers.51 An intriguing example of such an official is Weni. He was promoted from a lower-​ranking court office under king Teti to overseer of Upper Egypt under Pepy I. His career shows that social mobility was possible to a certain degree, at least within the upper administrative apparatus. Weni was not buried at Saqqara, where blocks inscribed with a fragmentary copy of his long biography have come to light, but in his tomb at Abydos in the Eighth Upper Egyptian nome.52 According to his biography, he had the privilege of witnessing alone, with just one other official, a legal case dealing with a conspiracy in the royal harem. He led military and other missions for the king to Nubia, to the alabaster quarries in Hatnub, and to the Sinai. Apart from providing information on historical events, the biography sheds light on the changing milieu at court in the Sixth Dynasty. Christopher Eyre remarked that the ruling class had become large and complex by then and hypothesized that Weni, a grey eminence in his old age and a potential threat to the power of the king, was sidelined and sent to the province.53 The more pronounced role of the provinces in court display was paralleled in a new relationship between the king and the gods. The

51. Seidlmayer 2000: 120. 52. Richards 2002; Collombert 2015. 53. Eyre 1994; similarly, on sidelining princes, Kemp 1983:  80. The discovery at Abydos of the tomb of Weni’s father, called Iuu (Herbich and Richards 2006), suggests that Weni already had ties to Abydos before he was buried there.

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decoration in the pyramid complex of Pepy II is the best preserved from the Sixth Dynasty. One scene shows a series of deities emerging from their chapels and proceeding to the king.54 Although most of the names of the deities and their locations have been destroyed, the scene might indicate that it is not the gods alone who were directed toward the king but, institutionally, the provincial temples whose patrons they were. The archaeological reality of this interpretation is discussed below in section 7.5. The diachronic outline of the courtly milieu attempted above is fragmentary and dependent on the irregular distribution of the available evidence through time. It is not always possible to draw continuous historical lines. For example, the idea of social engineering, as reflected in cemetery organization under Sneferu and Khufu, is difficult to follow up in later dynasties. Either the phenomenon was short-​lived or relevant patterns have not yet been detected in other cemeteries. However, the changing ways in which the relationship of the king to his courtiers and to the gods was articulated during the Old Kingdom demonstrate that kingship required explanation long before it became a theme of narrative literature in the Middle Kingdom. The dense written and visual discourse between courtiers is unique among evidence from Early Bronze Age societies and has provoked broader interpretive models in Egyptology. John Baines has remarked that visual display was more prestigious (and perhaps costlier) than hieroglyphic inscriptions were and for this reason was used exclusively for kings before it became more widely accessible to the courtiers. He called “decorum” the implicit rules for what was considered appropriate for whom to display.55 A major limitation he has credited to the rules of decorum is the absence of depictions of kings and deities in the tombs of the courtiers during the Old and Middle Kingdoms, although they are mentioned in inscriptions. The reasons are probably to be sought in changing regimes of accessibility but are otherwise difficult to identify.

54. Jéquier 1938: 39–​45, pl. 50–​53. 55. Baines 1990; 1997.

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Yet the model calls for a close observation of the selective mechanics of elite genres, which needs to be set against a less ordered reality. Jan Assmann placed the beginning of what he called “monumental discourse” in the Old Kingdom.56 The term designates the changing themes and intertextual nature of the written traditions in ancient Egypt. Taking as his point of departure the tomb biographies of Old Kingdom courtiers, Jan Assmann proposed that ancient Egyptian literature originated in a funerary context and was tied to the remembrance of the deceased. According to Assmann, monumental discourse laid the foundation of social memory in Old Kingdom society and, in the long run, of cultural memory today.57 Despite its idealizing underpinnings, this model shows how social developments at the court of the Old Kingdom might feed into discussions of world history.

7.3.  Funerary culture and society Tombs provide the largest body of archaeological evidence for the Old Kingdom. They range from the pyramids of kings and queens to the mausoleums of the courtiers and from the tombs of provincial governors and their dependents to pot burials and bodies interred without either a coffin or grave goods. The diversity of funerary arrangements sheds a light on social organization that is different from the elite-​centered perspectives of courtly display and administrative documents. Human remains and burial equipment add aspects of body practices to the picture but generally tell us little about the profession or activities performed by the deceased during their lifetimes, although these were probably most relevant for delineating an individual’s place in a social group. Tombs are also places where funerary rites were performed. The wealth of preserved evidence—​archaeological, visual, and written—​raises hopes for understanding the degree to which ritual practice can be understood to be an enactment of funerary beliefs.

56. Assmann 1996: 85–​86. 57. Assmann 1992; for a different view on early narrative texts see Baines 1999.

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The relevance of funerary data for social analysis has long been recognized, but the approaches and assumptions underpinning them vary. The prehistorian Mike Parker Pearson remarked that funerals can reverse the social order of the living, so the burial of an individual may say little about his or her status in life.58 Interpretive models in Egyptology emphasizing the ritual nature of tombs also tend to disconnect the deceased from their social status during their lifetimes. Martin Fitzenreiter saw the funeral as a rite de passage that transformed the deceased into a new type of being and embedded him or her in the memory of the living.59 Similarly, Jan Assmann viewed funerary rituals as a transformative practice centered on the treatment of the body and social memory.60 Other approaches are more concerned with social analysis. John Baines and Peter Lacovara referred to the monumental tombs, ritual texts, and imagery of the elite as “mausoleum culture.”61 They believed that hardly any tombs of commoners have been found in Egypt so far, since almost all excavated burials display too high a degree of formality. According to Nicole Alexanian, tomb owners made arrangements for their tombs while they were still alive, as texts show.62 From a quantitative analysis of tomb sizes in provincial cemeteries, she concluded that a middle class had emerged toward the end of the Old Kingdom. Correlating tomb size and administrative titles, Naguib Kanawati assumed that the Old Kingdom state allotted tombs to its officials according to rank. His idea implies that the ranking system for the living translated directly into tomb size and that the central administration interfered considerably in the funerary arrangements of high-​ranking officials.63 Basing his argument on evidence from a lower-​status cemetery on the island of Elephantine island, Stephan Seidlmayer suggested that burial arrangements mirror social

58. Parker Pearson 1999: 39. 59. Fitzenreiter 1994; 2001. 60. Assmann  2001. 61. Baines and Lacovara 2002. 62. Alexanian 2001: 433–​434. 63. Kanawati 1977.

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relationships known from elite display.64 He has moved the focus away from positioning deceased individuals in a hypothetical social structure toward interpreting funerary culture as a language of relationships that both responded to and constituted social reality, an approach that informs the discussion below. The extant evidence is vast and context dependent.65 The following review is arranged in an inverse hierarchical fashion, beginning with the tombs of the lower social groups. These reveal the burial customs of a large proportion of the population, although they do not constitute the majority of known burials. Diachronic change is highlighted wherever possible in order to introduce some historical context. Guy Brunton and Reginald Engelbach excavated a cemetery at Gurob, in the Fayum, which Wolfram Grajetzki thought to be typical of rural communities in the Old Kingdom.66 The cemetery is located close to and below the modern (1920s) cultivation. The ninety-​three recorded pits were found undisturbed and densely packed. They yielded few objects, often containing the body only, sometimes including a pot, a bead, or a basket. One headrest was discovered; in other cases, mud bricks, shards, or a pile of sand was placed under the head of the deceased. The bodies were usually found fully contracted, lying on the left side and wrapped in a mat. In total, fifty-​four male adults, sixty-​two female adults, thirty-​four children, and six unidentified individuals were discovered. Their kinship relationships are unknown. No traces of above-​ground architecture were found. The simple architecture and poor equipment of the burials at Gurob, the lack of a consistent alignment of the bodies to cardinal directions or with features of the local landscape, and the unfavorable location of the tombs close to the cultivated land threatened by the annual inundation all suggest that the tombs belonged to people of low status. However, the burials are not entirely informal. They are located in an area used 64. Seidlmayer  2001. 65. Excellent overviews for the pharaonic period are offered by Grajetzki 2003; Dodson and Ikram 2008; Snape 2011; and for the Old Kingdom by Bárta 2011. 66. Brunton and Engelbach 1927: 6–​7, pls. IV–​VIII; Grajetzki 2003: 25–​26.

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specifically as a cemetery, and the recurrent body position and wrapping in mats mirror distinct traditions. The tombs of Gurob are poor even in comparison to other nonelite burials, but they still comply with funerary conventions known from other sites. If culture is understood as a set of patterned practices, the evidence from Gurob would suggest that culture does not disintegrate into random informality at the lowest level of society. In 2009, a series of low-​ status cemeteries from the early Old Kingdom were surveyed in Middle Egypt.67 These stretch across 5 km on the escarpment of Deir el-​Bersha and Deir Abu Hinnis. Hundreds of tombs were marked with stone boulders placed above and around the burial. The bodies were buried in reed or wooden boxes, pottery coffins, inverted pots, baskets, vats, and jars, usually set on the bedrock rather than in a subterranean pit. Textile remains suggest that some bodies were wrapped. The skeletons were identified as belonging to fetuses, infants, juveniles, and male and female adults between one and a half and fifty years old. A few alabaster vases; beads from shells, alabaster, carnelian, and faience; and some copper fragments were found, as well as a series of different types of pottery. The tombs and their contents were heavily disturbed by the rubble that had washed down from the desert hill. This makes it difficult to reconstruct the original tomb equipment of the deceased, most likely people who lived in a set of rural hamlets in the area around Deir el-​Bersha and Deir Abu Hinnis. The cemeteries of Naga ed-​Der, in Middle Egypt, offer a diachronic view of change at a local level. They are located on the low desert strip that runs for more than 2 km between the Eastern Desert plateau and the area of cultivation. The majority of tombs cluster around the mouth of the largest of the three wadis (valleys) that cut through the desert plateau. The local governors of the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period were buried in rock tombs hewn higher up in the escarpment. Archaeological remains of the provincial capital and the villages to which the cemeteries belonged have not been discovered.

67. Vanthuyne 2016.

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Although the funerary record of Naga ed-​Der spans a wide social spectrum, it is likely that it overrepresents the middle to upper echelons of the local community.68 The Old Kingdom cemetery N500-​900 is located on the northern flank of the wadi.69 The above-​ground architecture is only preserved for the large tombs in the center, which date to the Third and early Fourth Dynasties. A stone bowl inscribed with the name of king Sneferu suggests that the individuals buried in these tombs had some contact with the central administration. The early Old Kingdom tombs display an array of different types, ranging from underground apartments reached via a stairway; through burials in large vats; to simpler pit burials, some of whose owners were, however, richly equipped. The bodies were usually buried in a contracted position, lying on the left side or squatting in a vat. The late Old Kingdom tombs, in contrast, display greater conformity, consisting of a shaft and a rectangular chamber. The deceased were buried in a semi-​contracted position, knees bent, facing left, often lying in a wooden coffin. The excavator George Andrew Reisner has argued that the introduction of rectangular coffins prompted the change in body positions.70 Technologically and on the level of equipment, the burials of the late Old Kingdom are poorer than the earlier ones and show less variation. Either the same group of people changed its burial customs or, perhaps more likely, the later group represents a poorer segment of the population, whereas the higher-​ranking segment had moved elsewhere. However, in absolute terms, these individuals cannot be said to have been poor because their families could afford coffins and amulets, some of which were made of costly stones. The cemeteries of Qau el-​Kebir shed light on questions of gender and changing visual traditions in provincial Egypt from the late Old to the Middle Kingdoms. The cemeteries run north to south for a length

68. Baines 2009–​2010. 69. Reisner  1932. 70. Reisner 1932: 189.

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of more than 20 km along the desert edge, and they belong to the rural communities that lived in this area.71 The majority of the preserved tomb shafts contained burials of women and children, sometimes in groups of two or three. The excavator, Guy Brunton, did not record the deep shafts that reached below the water table, or the empty shafts, whether plundered or undisturbed, that might have belonged to poorer people.72 The excavated record is probably best understood as representing the funerary customs of the lower to mid-​ranking segment of the communities at Qau. Men, women, and children were buried with seals and amulets that they had presumably worn during their lifetimes. In the First Intermediate Period, hieroglyphic signs and symbols usually associated with kingship were adopted for seals and amulets, mirroring the appropriation of elite culture in a lower-​status provincial context.73 Seals and amulets were used in magical spells and medical practice to protect women and children before, during, and after the life-​threatening event of birth. The imagery was thus closely linked to bodily practices, particularly but not exclusively for women and children. In one of the tombs at Qau, Brunton discovered a bowl inscribed with a letter addressed to the deceased mother of the sender, who was called Shepsi.74 Shepsi accused his mother of stirring up his children against him, although he had offered her quail chicks as she had desired. Similar letters to the dead are known from other provincial sites of the Old and Middle Kingdoms.75 They show that the deceased were believed to interact with the living, who feared them. The issues addressed revolved around fertility, birth, diseases, inheritance, and arguments among family members. Deities were mentioned occasionally, kings never.76 Viewed

71. Seidlmayer 1990: 123–​210. 72. Brunton 1927: 4. 73. Dubiel 2008. 74. Miniaci  2016. 75. Gardiner 1928. 76. O’Donoghue 1999.

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together, seals, amulets, medico-​magical practice, and letters to the dead conjure up an image of funerary culture, primarily in provincial Egypt, that focused on the body, physical well-​being, and the close social surroundings by living individuals, rather than on kingship, the state, or piety toward the gods. The cemeteries of the First Cataract form a ranked social landscape. The cemetery on Elephantine Island, dated to the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, belongs to the lower social groups of the community (for location, see fi ­ gure 7.4 later in the chapter).77 No inscriptions were found here, and funerary investment was limited. The local upper elite of the same period was buried in decorated rock tombs, ca. 3 km upstream, at a site called Qubbet el-​Hawa. Their followers apparently erected tombs at the foot of the causeways that led from the river up to the rock tombs, close to their patrons.78 The tombs of the lower-​status island cemetery represent stereotyped social models known from elite display.79 The excavator Stephan Seidlmayer has compared tombs with a single burial chamber to statues of the early Old Kingdom depicting one individual, tombs with two chambers of equal size to statues depicting a husband and wife both of equal size, and tombs with several chambers of ranked size with late Old Kingdom statues of families whose members are depicted in varying sizes. Tombs with sets of burial chambers of equal size might have belonged to families of followers of the local governors, who were buried close to their patrons at Qubbet el-​Hawa. This interpretation implies that local rank overwrote family ties in determining funerary arrangements. In some cases, the tombs were populated with burials different from what the architectural model would suggest, indicating that reality was diverse and had to be accommodated within the restricted language of tomb architecture.

77. Seidlmayer 2001. 78. Seidlmayer 1987. 79. Seidlmayer 2001.

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Friedrich Rösing analyzed the human remains from Elephantine according to social groups. In total there were 1,487 individuals, of whom 578 were found in the Old Kingdom tombs of Qubbet el-​Hawa, belonging to high-​to mid-​ranking individuals, and 153 in Old Kingdom tombs of the poorer island cemetery.80 Diseases resulting from hunger, infection, and genetic anemia were distributed evenly across all social groups. In contrast, body height seems to have varied significantly. The individuals of the poorer island group were 6 cm shorter on average (158.3 cm) than the slender elites from Qubbet el-​Hawa (164.6 cm). Rösing speculated that the local elite was not of local origin but had migrated from the capital to Elephantine.81 He further observed that injuries were by far more frequent in the poorer population, including broken vertebrae due to prolonged compression, possibly resulting from hard labor; broken cheekbones, perhaps from military conflict; and broken noses and forearms, typical of females and probably deriving from domestic violence. Despite biases in the record, such as an overrepresentation of lower-​class women and of adult men in the elite class, these trends seem to be robust overall. They demonstrate that all members of the local community had rather similar lives, but that the lower social groups experienced greater physical stress. The tombs of the local elite at Qubbet el-​Hawa, dated to the late Old Kingdom and later, offer a visual glimpse into the local community of Elephantine.82 They are arranged in terraces from which the rock-​cut chapels were entered. Their walls are decorated with panels depicting the tomb owners, members of their households, and other individuals, many labeled as funerary priests and others bearing mid-​ranking administrative titles. The majority of panels depict offerings made to the tomb owners. Although not all individuals bear names and titles, it has been suggested that they were members of the tomb owners’ households engaged in the mortuary cult for their patrons. Some may have been buried in the shafts

80. Rösing 1990. 81. Rösing 1990: 143. 82. Edel, Seyfried and Vieler 2008; Vischak 2015.

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discovered in the forecourt of the rock tombs. Upon visiting the tombs during festivals, the community would have encountered representations of the exclusive network of people that funerary culture spun around the local governors. In Dakhla oasis, the Sixth Dynasty central administration installed a governor whose duty it was to control movements on the tracks running through the Western Desert to the Nile valley.83 A residence and a set of large tombs were erected for the governors in the eastern part of the desert, at Ayn Asil and Qila el-​Dabba, close to Balat. Earlier remains of a campsite of the local Sheikh Muftah culture, discovered near Balat; remains of an Egyptian settlement in the western part of the desert, at Ayn el-​Gezareen; and a set of hilltop sites, used for controlling the desert routes, suggest that the governor’s residence was placed in an existing infrastructure.84 Links to the Memphite court are strong in this rather remote desert area. The five tombs of the governors at Qila el-​Dabba are complex, monumental mud-​brick structures, each occupying an area of 400 to 700 sq m. Two have a set of oblong chapels placed next to each other, imitating the architecture of royal pyramid temples. Governors’ burials were equipped with calcite vessels inscribed with royal names. The stone and pottery vases found in the burials and some preserved remains of tomb decoration also follow court standards. The secondary burials located in the forecourts and outside the tombs probably belonged to wives and other household members of the governors and perhaps some of their dependents.85 Their names and titles are not recorded on the objects, either because of their comparatively low status or because they died after the collapse of the central administration at the end of the Old Kingdom, or for both reasons. Administrative documents from Balat show several ranks of officials below the governor, but this structure is not reflected in the funerary organization. Perhaps the middle class of officials was buried near Ayn el-​Gezareen. 83. Laisney 2010 for overview and maps of the site. 84. Kaper and Willems 2002; Pettman 2012; Jeuthe 2017. 85. Valloggia 1998: 24–​38; Castel 2005.

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At court, the Western Cemetery of Giza, behind the Khufu pyramid of the Fourth Dynasty, became popular again in the late Fifth Dynasty. Ann Macy Roth has published a cluster of forty-​one stone-​lined tombs of mid-​ranking “palace attendants” and their overseers, mentioned earlier in this chapter.86 Each tomb has one principal burial shaft and a series of shallower shafts ending in burial chambers. The communities buried in them were imagined by the tomb builders to be ranked households, consisting of one main person and several dependents of equal status irrespective of gender, age, and status. Women depicted together with the male tomb owners on the walls of the above-​ground chambers are rarely labeled as wives. Other individuals are labeled as sons, daughters, sisters, and funerary priests. Those buried in the shorter shafts may have been dependents. It seems from the analysis of human remains that despite the high mortality rate that has been generally assumed for children in ancient Egypt, all the individuals buried here died at the age of eight years or older (the analysis was based on photographs).87 If “sons” and “daughters” were buried in the shallower shafts, they must have reached adulthood or nearly so, which is not what their depictions on the tomb walls would suggest. In other words, there is a mismatch between the community depicted on the tomb walls, the community represented in tomb architecture, and the people that were actually buried in the shafts. According to the names and titles recorded on the walls, the principal tomb owners in this cluster were related to each other through their office rather than through family ties. The highest-​ranking group of overseers owned tombs with an area of up to approximately 90 sq m, whereas the superstructure of ordinary “palace attendants” was only around 35 sq m—​still monumental compared to the vast majority of tombs in provincial cemeteries. Otherwise, there is only a weak correlation between status and other features, such as the volume of the subterranean chambers or of the chapel. Thus, not all quantifiable features are equally relevant for social analysis.

86. Roth 1995. 87. Roth 1995: 39.

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Wooden and stone coffins were found only in principal shafts, although some bodies in the shallower shafts were placed in wooden boxes. Other shallow shafts were empty and perhaps never used. The material used to fill the shafts after the funeral, which has not been analyzed in detail, is described as varying from shaft to shaft. Several statues of tomb owners were found, some in their original location in the serdab, a chamber built for these statues only and later sealed. The tombs decayed fairly soon, by the early Sixth Dynasty, and the offering cult for the deceased probably ended around the same time. The tomb of Netjeraperef at Dahshur shows the degree to which the iconography of elite funerary ritual and the archaeological record overlap.88 Netjeraperef was a son of king Sneferu. His large tomb is located at the edge of a cluster of tombs arranged rigidly in three rows. Its east face, which looked toward the world of the living, had two cult niches, the southern of which was larger and protected by a secondary mud-​ brick wall (see figure 7.3). Two rows of postholes were found south of the tomb. A mud-​brick ramp attached to the western face led to the roof of the tomb. From there, a shaft descended to the burial chamber, which was locked with a large stone slab. In front of the entrance to the burial chamber, the excavators found an incense burner, a ritual vessel called nemset in Egyptian, miniature copies of vessels and storage jars, a set of small alabaster plates, a shard (perhaps used for some ritual preparation), a loaf of bread made of clay, and the bones of a calf. The same types of vessels and food are depicted in offering scenes in elite tombs. Nicole Alexanian therefore speculated that a single ritual was enacted in front of the burial chamber in order to initiate the mortuary cult.89 Many bread molds, beer jars, and pot stands were found scattered on the surface around the tomb. This material probably derives from the funeral itself rather than from the mortuary cult performed after the funeral. There is only weak evidence for pottery of this type that definitely dates to later than the early Fourth Dynasty when Netjeraperef

88. Alexanian 1999. 89. Alexanian 1998: 16.

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Figure 7.3.  Tomb of prince Netjeraperef, early Fourth Dynasty. Plan and section. After Alexanian 1999: fig. 4 and 5. Courtesy Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Abteilung Kairo.

was buried. The funerary cult seems to have ended fairly soon after Netjeraperef died, a reality of which Egyptians must have been aware.90 Alexanian showed that the archaeological evidence from the tomb overlaps with the depiction of a funeral in the tomb of a court official called Debeheni, from the end of the dynasty. The scene shows a row of offering bearers climbing a ramp onto the roof of the tomb; a series of bread molds, beer jars, and offering stands arranged along the foot of the tomb; and various individuals performing rituals in a temporary

90. Shirai  2006.

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tent similar to the posthole structure encountered south of the tomb of Netjeraperef. Although the overlap of image and material remains is exceptional in this particular case, it is conditioned by the fact that they articulate ideas and practices within the same social milieu at court. Astonishingly little is known about the funerals of kings, although these must have been major events. Some of the depictions on the walls of the pyramid complexes, such as images of the king seated in front of a row of offering bearers, could refer to either the regular mortuary cult or the funeral itself. Since the regular mortuary cult in the pyramids was closely linked to the administration and the state, it is considered in ­chapter 5. Some of the spells in the Pyramid Texts contain instructions for rituals carried out during the royal funeral. Their primary interest to us lies in the interpretation of the ritual. In the following passage from the ritual for Opening the Mouth, probably of the royal mummy or a royal statue, the deceased king Unas is identified with Osiris and the object offered to him with the eye of Horus. The return of this eye to Osiris symbolizes the restitution of the cosmic order, a figure of thought that dominates the later theology of temple cult and is attested in writing for the first time in the Pyramid Texts. Spells 46 and 47 give instructions, interpret the offering, and mention the object offered: To be recited four times: “A royal offering to the ka (the ‘soul’) of Unas: Osiris Unas, accept Horus’s eye, your bread-​loaf, and eat.” A loaf of offering bread. “Osiris Unas, accept Horus’s eye, which escaped from Seth, which you should take to your mouth and with which you should open your mouth.” One bright quartzite jar of wine.91 The Pyramid Texts embrace a broad range of themes and genres remodeled and recontextualized over the following three millennia. An 91. Sethe 1908: 23, §§ 35b–​36b; Allen 2015: 23.

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important aspect was the transformation of the deceased king into a ritually correct dead being, which the Egyptians called akh. An excerpt of spell 217, a hymn to the sun god Ra-​Atum at his rising in the morning, demonstrates this: Ra-​Atum, Unas has come to you—​an imperishable akh, lord of the property of the place of the four papyrus-​columns. Your son has come to you, this Unas has come to you. You shall both traverse the above [= the sky], after gathering in the netherworld, and rise from the akhet (horizon), from the place in which you have both become akh.92 Unlike the Pyramid Texts, the tomb inscriptions of the courtiers are comparatively silent about the fate of the deceased in the afterlife. They are more concerned with the behavior of the living toward the deceased and their tombs. On his false door, the “sole companion” and priest at the pyramid of Unas, Tepemankh, wrote in the late Fifth Dynasty about his funeral and the offerings made to him on various festivals, with only a short comment on the “perfect ways of the West,” that is, his afterlife: (Inscription on outer right door jamb:) Proceeding to his tomb of the West, having crossed over in the weret boat, having been led to the booth prepared in accordance with the writings of the skills of the lector priest. An offering which the king gives and an offering which Anubis gives that he may travel on the perfect ways of the West upon which the imakhu (deceased) travel in peace and in the sight of the great god. (Inscription on outer left door jamb:) Going forth to the top of the escarpment of the necropolis, having traversed the pool, having been transfigured by the lector priest,

92. Sethe 1908: 88, §156a–​d ; Allen 2015: 36.

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for whom (every)thing has been done [= for whom the ritual has been performed] by the embalmer in the sight of Anubis. An offering which the king gives and an offering which Anubis gives that invocation offerings may be made for him in the Opening of the Year festival, the festival of Thoth, the first day of the year festival, the wag-​festival, the festival of Sokar, the great festival, and every festival every day.93 Herimeru, who was buried at Saqqara in the Sixth Dynasty, warns tomb robbers and promises protection to those who make an offering to him. The following passage is taken from an inscription on the lintel over the entrance to his tomb: But with regard to any man who shall do anything evil to my tomb or who shall enter it with the intention of stealing, I shall seize his neck like a bird’s, and I shall be judged with him in the court of the Great God. However, with regard to any person who shall make invocation offerings or shall pour water, they shall be pure like the pureness of god, and I shall protect them in the necropolis.94 Texts such as these convey a sense of the greater concern the tomb owners had with social memory than with life in the netherworld. The requests for offerings may sound formulaic, but the letters to the dead referred to above make it clear that failure by the living to provide for the needs of the dead was a serious concern. The economic implications of funerary culture are best known from the inscriptions of high-​ranking courtiers and provincial governors.95 These texts mention provisions made by tomb owners for the construction of their tombs, such as payments to craftsmen. Sometimes the king

93. Mariette 1889: 195; Strudwick 2005: 215–​216, no. 130. 94. Hassan 1975: fig. 39; Strudwick 2005: 219–​220, no. 133. 95. Helck 1975: 73–​94.

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is said to have allocated a tomb to an official or to have had a door or sarcophagus made for him, apparently an exceptional honor worth recording in one’s biography. Kings also set up foundations that delivered supplies for the mortuary cult of high-​ranking courtiers.96 After being offered, the food was then distributed among the funerary priests. In the later Old Kingdom, some viziers and other court officials organized their funerary priests in phyles (working gangs), imitating the system in which royal funerary priests were organized.97 The arrangements made for funerary priests were a dominant subject in non-​royal legal texts of the Old Kingdom.98 Funerary priests need not have been members of the family, a situation that might have necessitated making the arrangement explicit in writing. A well-​known example is the regulation for his mortuary cult by the local governor of the early Fifth Dynasty at Tehna called Nykaankh, who was chief priest at the local temple of Hathor. Nykaankh decreed that his wife and his nine children were entitled to the income from his funerary foundation during ten months of the year. During the eleventh month, a priest of Hathor received the income, and two other individuals, one labeled “funerary priest,” shared the income during the twelfth month. The inclusion of a priest from the Hathor temple, the cult of which was sponsored by the king, shows that the funding of the local temple and of the mortuary cult for the local governor overlapped. Local economic resources were probably seen as lying more with individuals than with institutions. It is more difficult to reconstruct the economic organization of the funerary cult for the majority of the population, for which written documents are not available and probably did not exist. One might imagine family members making offerings to their ancestors, although different arrangements for the mortuary cult made orally in the presence of witnesses are also a possible scenario. There is little archaeological evidence

96. Jacquet-​Gordon  1962. 97. Roth 1991: 91–​118. 98. Goedicke 1970; Strudwick 2005: 185–​207.

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for the continuation of mortuary cults for very long after the funeral, at least not in the form of identifying material remains. Funerary culture in the Old Kingdom was a multifaceted phenomenon. At court, many tombs were monumental, and the burial customs differed from those in the hinterland. Practices centered on statues were far more widespread among kings and courtiers than in provincial Egypt.99 Funerary beliefs are not salient in Old Kingdom written evidence, unlike the situation for later periods. Such beliefs could overlap with funerary practices and their representations in writing and art, but they hardly explain the diversity of burial arrangements in different social groups.

7.4.  Urbanism In comparative debates on early civilizations, urbanism is seen as a key indicator of social complexity.100 Cities provided a context for craft specialization, bureaucracy, and ritual performance controlled by emergent elites.101 Types of urbanism differ cross-​culturally. Old Kingdom Egypt is described as a territorial state with one urban center at Memphis and a series of smaller towns and villages scattered along the river Nile, exhibiting a primate rank-​size distribution, as opposed to the city-​state civilizations in Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, and the Indus valley, which are characterized by a polycentric pattern.102 The primate rank-​size distribution provides a useful context for modeling settlement geography in Old Kingdom Egypt. However, taken at face value, it finds limited support in the archaeological record. The city of Memphis has not been identified so far, while villages, hamlets, and agricultural estates, which would classify as third-​rank settlements in the model, are archaeologically elusive. Social hierarchies, ritual performance, and the division of labor are obvious from written and visual sources but far less evident in the archaeological record of settlements. 99. Fitzenreiter 2006. 100. Trigger 2003; Yoffee 2015. 101. Baines et al. 2015. 102. Kemp 1977; Yoffee 2005: 42–​90.

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An investigation of urbanism therefore requires an integrated approach combining a variety of sources. Questions addressed in this section concern the slow pace of urban growth in the third millennium, types and functions of settlements and their internal organization, and more generally, the role of urbanism in the fabric of Old Kingdom society. Patterns of preservation obviously affect discussions of urbanism. In Egypt, the chances of discovering settlements are good whenever they were located in the desert or the low desert margin running along the area of cultivation.103 This explains the relatively high proportion of settlements preserved near the pyramids. Other settlements were built on levees (high-​lying river banks), on rock formations that were not inundated by the annual flood, and on sandy islands such as those in the delta. Despite some use of magnetometry and other remote sensing techniques, Old Kingdom settlements located below the modern floodplain have not been found so far. High flood levels and the migration of the river bed have contributed to the destruction of settlements. The Nile valley seems to have silted up more rapidly with alluvial sediments in Middle and Lower Egypt than in Upper Egypt, potentially impeding the discovery of older layers in those areas. The continued occupation of sites through to the present has further destroyed third millennium layers, positioned at the bottom of settlement mounds. Ancient settlements that were abandoned at some point have often been used as quarries for making mud bricks, the building material of ancient Egyptian houses, or have been used as fertilizer on the fields, increasingly so during the intensification and industrialization of the nineteenth century ad.104 The extant archaeological evidence of Old Kingdom settlements has been conveniently summarized by Nadine Moeller.105 The capital at Memphis is not known archaeologically and does not feature prominently in texts, neither as “Memphis” nor as Inbu-​hedj, “White Wall,” which

103. Bietak 1979. 104. Bailey 1999. 105. Moeller 2016: 113–​213.

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might have been the original name of the town. Settlement remains of the Old Kingdom and the First Intermediate Period have been found at several sites in Upper Egypt—​at Elephantine, Kom Ombo, Edfu, Hierakonpolis, Elkab, Gebelein, Dendara, and Abydos—​as well as at Zawyet Sultan and Sharuna in Middle Egypt and at the delta sites of Tell el-​Farkha and Kom el-​Hisn. In the late Old Kingdom, a town-​like outpost was founded in the Dakhla oasis to control the trade routes running through the Western Desert. At Buhen, remains of a Fourth Dynasty Egyptian workshop were found.106 The earliest town in Upper Nubia, at Kerma, only developed fully in the Middle Kingdom.107 The Old Kingdom campsites along the Red Sea coast are discussed in ­chapter 6. Some of the Early Bronze Age towns in the Levant have yielded Egyptian material, but except for Byblos none of them seems to have been controlled by the Egyptian state or modeled architecturally on Egyptian settlements.108 As this overview shows, towns were a common feature in the Egyptian landscape of the Old Kingdom. Most of those mentioned above were regional capitals. The continuous occupation with lower-​status cemeteries in the areas between them, such as at Naga ed-​Der and Qau, indicates the existence of villages on archaeological grounds.109 Whether royal domains, set up to deliver food for the mortuary cult of kings and high-​ ranking courtiers, and new towns, known from titles such as “administrator of the new towns,”110 were new foundations or referred to existing villages is difficult to say.111 Middle Egypt and the delta are the preferred locations of royal foundations, which suggests that they were agriculturally rich and perhaps more urbanized than the few excavated examples of early towns in this region suggest.112 106. O’Connor 2014. 107. Bonnet 2014. 108. Greenberg 2013. 109. Seidlmayer 2006. 110. Jones 2000: 668, no. 2445; 680, no. 3145. 111. Moreno García 1998. 112. Jacquet-​Gordon  1962.

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Figure  7.4. Town of Elephantine, originally spread over two separate islands: on the eastern island, the walled town with early dynastic fort, the residence of the governor, the shrine of the goddess Satet, and a series of houses; on the western island, the pyramid of the early Old Kingdom with a royal administrative district, the cemetery of the late Old Kingdom to early Middle Kingdom. After Dorn 2015: fig. 1. Courtesy Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Abteilung Kairo.

In Upper Egypt, Elephantine is one of the better-​known examples of an Old Kingdom town (see figure 7.4).113 Archaeological remains are

113. Ziermann 2002.

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scattered across the eastern and western banks of the Nile and two river islands, which merged into a single island during the third millennium. The actual town was founded on the eastern island. It was surrounded by an enclosure wall and entered through two gates near the landing areas. The wall encloses an oval area of ca. 250 × 100 m. In the Early Dynastic period, a fortress was built to control the traffic on the Nile. Pockets of the Old Kingdom occupation have come to light in some areas of the settlement hill. The structures include a local shrine for the goddess Satet; the governor’s residence; and a few clusters of houses, one of which was excavated completely. The architecture is densely packed, with narrow alleys running between the houses. The adjacent western island was used as the local cemetery in the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, as discussed above. In the early Old Kingdom, a small pyramid had been erected there in conjunction with an administrative center.114 Historically, the town of Elephantine was formed as a mixture of central initiative and local settlement nucleation in the Early Dynastic period.115 The unusual landscape of the First Cataract and the unique cultural setting of the settlement in the frontier area between the Egyptian heartland and Lower Nubia raise doubts about the degree to which Elephantine is representative of Old Kingdom provincial towns. Yet many features, such as the local shrine, the dense architecture, the location of the cemetery outside the town, the residence of the governor, and the town wall, are encountered at other sites, too. A conspicuous feature in the preserved record of the Old Kingdom is the high proportion of state-​founded settlements. At Ayn Asil in Dakhla oasis, for example, a town was founded in the late Old Kingdom to control the trade routes in the Western Desert.116 First, a buttressed enclosure of ca. 150 × 150 m was built, soon followed by a second enclosure of ca. 200 × 100 m. Within it, the excavators found the residence of the governors, chapels for worship, a production area, and a series of other

114. Seidlmayer 1996a. 115. Seidlmayer 1996b. 116. Jeuthe 2012: 11–​35.

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houses. A pottery workshop was located outside the palace. There is good evidence for a range of different activities carried out at the site. Broken seals found near doorways reflect the control of access to certain areas. Pots were produced, clay figurines made, copper processed, and stone tools manufactured. It is currently more difficult to address questions of daily life, such as hygiene and comfort, water supply and diet, mortality rates, and the interaction and identity of people inhabiting the houses. The richest archaeological evidence of Old Kingdom settlements is found near the royal pyramids.117 Typologically and functionally, the settlements range from orthogonally planned pyramid towns, through campsites for workmen and soldiers, to settlements locally built by priests who served the royal funerary cult. Planned settlements were tied to the central administration. South of the valley temple of Menkaura at Giza, Mark Lehner has excavated four sets of rectangular galleries, presumably for rotating gangs of workmen and soldiers engaged in pyramid construction.118 The galleries are overlooked by a “royal administrative building,” as the excavator called it, in which large grain silos were found. A perimeter wall with two entrances encloses the galleries, facilitating the control of people and goods coming in and going out. The diet consisted of catfish and to a lesser extent of meat from goats and sheep, and bread was produced in large quantities on-​site. A more informal settlement grew south of the gallery complex, inhabited perhaps by the overseers of the gallery complex. In a trash heap associated with one of the larger houses, the excavators found many cattle bones from young animals, hinting at a more exclusive diet.119 The gallery complex and the secondary settlement together cover an area of ca. 250 × 200 m and remained in use for a fairly short period, during the reigns of Khafra and Menkaura. Nearby, Karl Kromer found the debris of a dismantled settlement dating to the reigns of Khufu and

117. Bussmann 2004; Kemp 2006: 201–​211; Moeller 2016: 117–​158. 118. Lehner and Tavares 2010. 119. Redding 2010.

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Khafra.120 Perhaps the original settlement had a similar layout to the one excavated by Lehner or to the settlement attached to the tomb of Khentkaus discussed below.121 The evidence suggests that large-​scale settlements were built rapidly by the central administration and were abandoned or torn down equally quickly once they had ceased to serve their purpose. Secondary rooms and houses built into the pyramid and valley temples derive from self-​organized communities. The valley temple of the Bent Pyramid at Dahshur, located halfway up the causeway, is a good example.122 A group of houses and grain silos was erected in the southern part of the enclosed area. Statues, shrines, and offering tables belonging to private individuals indicate votive activities in the temple during the Old and Middle Kingdoms, but the pottery dates only to the late Fourth to Sixth Dynasties. Apparently the houses were built a few decades after the temple had been erected, perhaps when priests on duty found it more convenient to stay there, and ceased to be used when central provisioning for the cult faded out at the end of the Old Kingdom. That central administration was involved is further suggested by a set of seal impressions containing Fifth Dynasty royal names. The mixture of miniature vessels, ritual pottery, beer jars, and drinking bowls attests to an intermingling of cultic activities and food consumption in the settlement. The settlement of Dahshur, as well as similar examples at Abusir, Giza, and Abu Rawash, offers a glimpse of the logistics of the royal mortuary cult, which might have differed considerably from pyramid to pyramid and from site to site. Pyramid towns are a more critical type of settlement for a discussion of urbanism. Those of the Old Kingdom are known from inscriptions and titles, but the Middle Kingdom pyramid town of Senusret II at Lahun suggests that they would have been large and complex in the

120. Kromer 1978. 121. According to Witsell 2018, the debris might derive from a dismantled royal palace. 122. Fakhry 1961.

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Old Kingdom, too.123 Like Lahun, earlier pyramid towns were probably located near the valley temples. The best Old Kingdom equivalent to Lahun is an orthogonally planned settlement uncovered by Selim Hassan in front of the pyramid of queen Khentkaus at Giza.124 It consists of at least twelve large mansions enclosed by an L-​shaped wall. The architecture of the houses features characteristics of royal buildings, such as small aisles with bent axes and a pilastered room in the center, perhaps a reception room.125 King Sneferu had two pyramid towns built at Dahshur, one for the Red and one for the Bent Pyramid. Three hundred years later, Pepy I issued a decree that granted privileges to officials living in these towns. Thus, although these pyramid towns were created artificially, they were inhabited for several centuries. The pyramid town of Pepy I, presumably located at the foot of the causeway of his pyramid at Saqqara, was called Men-​nefer-​Pepy (“May Pepy Endure and Be Perfect”). The first element, Men-​nefer, is the Egyptian origin of the Greek name Memphis. Presumably the pyramid town of Pepy I merged with an existing settlement, possibly Inbu-​hedj, and lent its name to the combined city. Changes in settlement patterns from the Old Kingdom to the New Kingdom and later can hardly be explained with reference to climatic or environmental changes alone, since these have been comparatively moderate over the past five thousand years. Rather, explanation needs to be sought in social developments. The preceding discussion suggests that the state was a prime mover toward urbanization in the Old Kingdom. The concentration of resources around the royal funerary cult contributed to the urbanization in the capital zone around Memphis, and the colonization of the hinterland by the central administration fostered urban growth in provincial Egypt. The state expended much effort on organizing its center before central administration spread more deeply

123. Quirke 2005. 124. Tavares 2011. 125. Arnold 1998.

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into the hinterland. This perhaps explains why urban growth may have been slow in the third millennium. Archaeology and administrative records show that towns grew bigger toward the New Kingdom and played an increasingly important role. However, Christopher Eyre, Mark Lehner, and Juan Carlos Moreno García have argued that Egypt was a rural society characterized by a village economy.126 Kemp argued that the New Kingdom capital Amarna was organized in village-​like neighborhoods and concluded that Egyptian society continued operating in a village horizon.127 If these conflicting messages are accepted, they would suggest that urbanism remained alien to Egyptian society despite its more urban outlook in the New Kingdom. Egyptian towns of the Old Kingdom had no plaza, market square, or theater suitable for discussions and grand public performances. Apart from local temple processions, an important context for display was the funeral. Perhaps the relevance of funerals in local communities and the limited urban fabric of Old Kingdom society partially explain why elite culture in third-​millennium Egypt unfolded in the funerary domain rather than in the context of houses or temples. Institutionally, towns coevolved with local temples, which are discussed in section 7.5. The latter begin to appear in the archaeological record together with the earliest towns. If settlement nucleation was a driver toward the formation of larger villages or towns, in conjunction with central initiatives, it can be hypothesized that the denser social interaction led to the formation of local elites, perhaps village elders, who clustered around the community shrines as institutions of communal display. They might have controlled ritual activities in the shrines and associated economic resources. Evolving urbanism would thus explain the origins of local shrines in Egypt and, in the long run, the success of temples in the increasingly urban society of Egypt.128

126. Eyre 1999; Lehner 2000; Moreno García 2011. 127. Kemp 2013: 47. 128. Bussmann 2014a.

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7.5. Two cultures Barry Kemp has claimed that Egypt in the Old Kingdom was a “country of two cultures.”129 He has described a rift between a small ruling class of kings and officials on the one hand, and people living in the provincial hinterland on the other. The first group would control labor management to maintain a great, central tradition, whereas the second was governed by the first but was otherwise unaffected by royal dogma and enjoyed a creative folk culture, the “little traditions.” According to Kemp, the situation changed in the Middle Kingdom, when the central administration spread more deeply into local communities and “colonized their minds.” As a result, the Old Kingdom appears to have been a culturally unintegrated society. Kemp based his interpretation on a discussion of temple development in Egypt from the third to the first millennia.130 The temples served as shrines for local communities in the provincial hinterland. Many early shrines were small and idiosyncratic mud-​brick buildings. After the Old Kingdom, they were replaced with more standardized, stone-​lined temples decorated with scenes of the king and deities, which became even larger monuments during the New Kingdom and Late and Greco-​Roman periods. Kemp interpreted this process of increasing formality and monumentality as the penetration of kingship into provincial communities. David O’Connor has taken an opposing view.131 Departing from the monumental temple at Hierakonpolis, which he dated to late prehistory and the Early Dynastic period, he proposed that kings provisioned local shrines from the beginning and posited that kingship was far more pervasive throughout the country than Kemp had envisioned. Stephan Seidlmayer has added historical context to this discussion.132 He distinguished between shrines dedicated to deities relevant to royal ideology and those of other deities. Comparing the royal evidence 129. Kemp 1989: 83; 2006: 135. 130. Bussmann 2010. 131. O’Connor 1992. 132. Seidlmayer 1996b.

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discovered in excavated shrines, he argued that kings supported cults of the first group during the Early Dynastic period in order to strengthen the ideological foundations of kingship and that they extended their building activity in the late Old Kingdom, when local power bases were emerging, by furnishing local temples across the country with chapels for the worship of royal statues. A good example for this discussion is the shrine dedicated to the goddess Satet located on the island of Elephantine (for its location, see figure 7.4).133 The earliest chapel, a dingy mud-​brick chamber of 1 sq m, was built in late prehistory against a natural rock niche (see ­figure 7.5, left). During the course of the Old Kingdom it was successively enlarged, and by the Sixth Dynasty it measured 5 × 8 m. In the Middle Kingdom, Senusret I filled up the niche and built a limestone temple on top. The temple was dismantled and rebuilt on a grander scale during the New Kingdom and, again, in the Late Period. Faience tablets inscribed with the names and titles of the Sixth Dynasty kings Pepy I and Pepy II are the earliest royal objects found in the temple layers (see figure 7.5, top right). The same two kings, as well as Merenra, who reigned between them, had a short inscription written on the granite boulder of the rock niche. A granite shrine with a height of 132 cm, found on the island in the early twentieth century ad, is inscribed with the names of Pepy I and Merenra and could well have been set up in the temple. The exact original position of this shrine is debated. Perhaps it was placed on a mud-​brick pedestal in the forecourt that had previously functioned as a pillar, for the worship of a royal statue rather than of the goddess Satet.134 The faience tablets, the royal inscriptions, and the shrine differ from the older material repertoire discovered in the temple. Yet while they certainly mark a leap toward stronger integration of the shrine with royal activities, the shrine is minuscule compared to the contemporaneous pyramids. It looks as if the kings of the Sixth Dynasty felt it necessary to

133. Dreyer 1986. 134. Bussmann 2013.

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Figure 7.5.  Elephantine, temple of the goddess Satet. Left: Mud-​brick shrine of phase IV, Sixth Dynasty, ca. 2400 bc, ca. 8 × 5 m.  Right:  Faience votive objects:  sed-​festival plaque of Pepy I  (height:  6.4  cm), girl (height:  8.1  cm), baboon (height: 6.3 cm). After Dreyer 1986: pl. 2a, 17 (no. 42), 25 (no. 124), 56 (no. 440). Courtesy Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Abteilung Kairo.

increase their presence in the provinces, and only at this point did they recognize the important role local shrines played in local communities. The votive material associated with the shrine at Elephantine embraces a wide range of forms and materials. A large group is formed of palm-​sized objects made of faience. They include figurines of men, women, boys, girls, baboons, crocodiles, frogs, and a series of ships with one end modeled in the shape of the head of a hedgehog (see figure 7.5, bottom right). Other faience objects are pieces of jewelry, such as beads and rings, that had perhaps been worn by individuals before they were used as votive objects. A few smaller objects were made of ivory and hard stones. The cheapest type of votive objects are unworked flint pebbles picked up from the ground locally. The votive material is more difficult to fit within the model of the two cultures than royal objects are.135 Many votive types, such as the human figurines, have very little in common with human-​shaped statues produced in court contexts. Figurines representing men and women are particularly unstandardized, whereas those of girls, often crudely made,

135. Bussmann 2010.

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look fairly similar in Elephantine and elsewhere. Some votive objects seem to have been produced in pairs, to judge from their similarity, but there is no reason to assume that the votive objects were made and distributed centrally. Even if they date a bit earlier than the Old Kingdom, the ivory objects from two other shrines, those at Hierakonpolis and Tell el-​Farkha, are striking in this respect. They exhibit distinct local traditions with little stylistic overlap between the two sites. These observations suggest that votive objects were produced in local workshops. Perhaps one can even speculate that in some cases individual craftsmen, rather than specialized workshops, manufactured a set of votive objects from time to time. Whereas the production of objects was probably organized locally, the repertoire of shapes overall is conspicuously similar across the country. In no case do votive objects refer to the qualities or the iconography of individual deities worshipped at specific places. For example, the votive material from Elephantine is hardly distinguishable from the range of shapes found associated with the shrine of Tell Ibrahim Awad located in the eastern delta.136 While the similar shapes seem to indicate provisioning of the shrines with votive objects by the central administration, similarities are also evident in other types of material culture, such as pottery and flint tools. Knowledge, technological and other, might have spread and been exchanged constantly and rapidly at a local level in Predynastic times. Apparently it did not require a central administration to connect communities in the hinterland. Some votive types have clear equivalents among royal objects. A large baboon made of hard stone, inscribed with the name of king Narmer and found at Abydos, resembles the small faience baboons at Elephantine, almost as if the latter were copies of the former.137 The temple site at Coptos yielded large pieces of sculpture representing a bird and a lion.138 They are dated to the late Predynastic or Early Dynastic periods and,

136. Haarlem 2009. 137. Krauss 1994. 138. Petrie 1896: 7.

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again, could have inspired the shapes of votive figurines. King Scorpion offered a ceremonial mace head to the shrine of Hierakonpolis, and at this site several votive figurines in the shape of a scorpion were found.139 Perhaps the votive repertoire emerged as the result of a mixture of local invention and imitation of (proto-​)royal imagery at a time when kingship was more accessible than it became in the Old Kingdom. Mutual fertilization of central and local traditions probably continued throughout the third millennium. At Elephantine, for example, faience tablets with crudely incised shapes of human beings seem to imitate the format of the royal faience tablets previously described. Similarly, the votive objects in the form of hedgehog ships are three-​dimensional versions of boats depicted in elite tombs. Rather than modeling court and provincial culture as separate streams of tradition, it may fit the evidence better to assume some shared origins and constant interaction. The votive material was found secondarily deposited in pits (Abydos), in a pot (Tell el-​Farkha), in constructed caches (Tell Ibrahim Awad), or in informal heaps (Elephantine, Hierakonpolis). It seems that the shrines were cleared occasionally, and the votive objects were disposed of with a certain degree of respect. The shrines of Elephantine and Tell Ibrahim Awad were repeatedly rebuilt during the third millennium, with little change from phase to phase. At Elephantine, small groups of votive objects were collected and reused in local foundation deposits found below a corner of the shrine and below the pivot stone of the door leading into the inner sanctuary. The creation of foundation deposits and the constant clearing and rebuilding of shrines, which led to the shrine of Elephantine becoming 3 m deeper than the rapidly growing settlement around it, are again practices typical of community shrines. They had developed locally.140 How exactly the votive objects were offered and by whom is difficult to say. It is possible that people went straight into the shrines, presented a vow or prayer, and deposited a votive object on the floor, but 139. Quibell and Green 1900: 8, 11, pl. 21.4, 22.4, 24.10, 26C. 140. Kopp and Raue 2008 align the origins of the Satet temple more closely with central concerns.

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the offering might also have been mediated by ritual specialists who were exclusively entitled to approach the deity. From later periods, there is textual evidence for restricted accessibility to the inner parts of sanctuaries of large temples.141 In contrast, the architecture of Old Kingdom shrines, comparable in size and building material to private houses, appears more approachable. Yet for whom a door opened and who had to stay outside is impossible to know from the archaeological evidence alone. The association of priestly titles with the local elite hints at hierarchies in temple involvement at the community level from early on. Local trajectories of temple development differed throughout the third millennium.142 The shrine of Hierakonpolis stands out as a center of royal activity in the late Predynastic and Early Dynastic periods. In contrast, no royal object or inscription has been discovered so far in the temple areas of Tell el-​Farkha and Tell Ibrahim Awad. At Abydos, Sixth Dynasty kings erected chapels for statues of themselves and of members of the royal family who originated from this area. At Bubastis, the Sixth Dynasty chapel for the royal statue took the form of a relatively large temple. Apart from the few royal inscriptions, hardly any pieces of writing associated with the local shrines of the Old Kingdom have been found. Theological treatises, ritual instructions, and administrative records, known from later temples in Egypt, may have already existed in the Old Kingdom. However, committing such knowledge to writing might not have been necessary for the local communities to run their shrines. But once the local shrines became entangled with kingship and the centralized state, and once local practice and belief became embedded in central knowledge, then writing as well as monumental display became relevant as explanation and demonstration of the relationship of the local shrines to state authority.143

141. Pinch 1993: 356–​360. 142. Bussmann 2010. 143. Bussmann 2016.

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Discussion of the two cultures in the research literature is focused on local temples because in later periods these became major institutional interfaces between the state and local communities. As the previous sections on funerary culture and urbanism have shown, exchange relationships between center and hinterland cut across a variety of contexts of practice and need not have been channeled only through temples. Administrative records from provincial sites, such as royal decrees, accounts, letters, lists, and seals, offer another glimpse at the degree to which the state had penetrated into local communities. An assessment of this material in combination with the archaeology of provincial shrines requires further research.

7.6. The nomarchy The local temples rose to greater prominence during the “nomarchy,” a term coined by Barry Kemp to describe the history from the late Old to high Middle Kingdoms.144 In that period, the local governors (the nomarchs), particularly in Upper Egypt, played a crucial role in the political and social organization of Egypt. They were members of an interlocking network of around twenty families interacting through contacts ranging from military conflict to marriage, operating below and alongside royal authority. The nature of the nomarchy is clearest in the First Intermediate Period, when conventions of decorum weakened and local themes entered into elite self-​presentation. Some of these themes were probably already relevant in the Old Kingdom but were articulated only later.145 The origins of the nomarchy are debated. Traditionally, nomarchs have been seen as officials sent from the royal court into the provinces, where they developed their own power bases. Dietrich Raue has argued that at Elephantine, a first group of court officials sent out in the late Fifth Dynasty failed to get established, and that local governors were

144. Kemp 1995; Willems 2014: 4–​58. 145. Franke 1997.

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installed successfully only in the Sixth Dynasty.146 Juan Carlos Moreno García assumed that local elites existed throughout the Old Kingdom, even if only a few of them erected monumental tombs, such as those at Bet Khallaf, Elkab, and Tehna.147 According to his model, central administration co-​opted local elites in order to establish power in the hinterland. However, the weak and, in aggregate, sporadic evidence for powerful local elites that challenged royal control and the court-​inspired design of the tombs of early nomarchs at many sites seem to support the traditional view. The case of Elephantine is perhaps an example of local resistance to the arrival of court officials or lack of sufficient central support, as Raue hypothesized. The history of the nomarchy varies from region to region.148 Monumental tombs erected near provincial capitals in Upper and Middle Egypt show that former court officials settled there permanently. The situation in the delta is less clear. Large Sixth Dynasty tombs at Mendes suggest a similar scenario, but the delta seems to have stuck more closely to Old Kingdom models and to have been less independent than Upper Egypt was.149 The most common titles for a nomarch in the Sixth Dynasty were “great overseer of the district” and “overseer of priests (at a local temple),” but other titles are attested as well.150 The material culture shows regional differences between the conservative north and the more rapidly changing south, but the differences do not necessarily map on the chronological and geographical dividing lines that seem to be suggested by historical texts.151 The nomarchy is characterized by the affiliation of the nomarchs with local temples; processions centered on their statues; and an emphasis on

146. Raue 2008. 147. Moreno García 2005: 219. 148. Morenz 2010. 149. Willems 2014:  33–​53, with fuller discussion of differences within Upper and Lower Egypt. 150. Martin-​Pardey 1976; Martinet 2011. 151. Seidlmayer 1990: 438–​440.

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ancestors, family, and household in display.152 Detlef Franke argued that the cult of statues of the nomarchs performed outside the tomb was inspired by the royal statue cult in local shrines.153 A  decree issued by Pepy II states that governor Khentika of Dakhla oasis should erect a chapel for himself as his ancestors had.154 The decree was originally mounted near a row of three chapels located to the west of the governor’s palace. A  fourth chapel was found south of the palace. Each chapel probably sheltered the statue of a governor. The statues were perhaps carried during a public procession from the town to the tombs of the governors and the local temple, which may have been dedicated to the goddess Neret.155 The decree further entitles the priests involved to payment from a royal foundation. The financial claims arising from the cult might explain why the decree was copied from papyrus onto stone for public display. Whereas the statue cult of the local governors developed under royal patronage in Dakhla, at Elephantine its origins appear to have been local. In the Middle Kingdom, a sanctuary was dedicated to Heqaib, a local governor of the late Old Kingdom (for its location, see fi ­ gure 7.3). The stratigraphy of the building reaches back into First Intermediate Period layers.156 The location of Heqaib’s Old Kingdom chapel is not known. However, wooden shrines, boxes, statues, offering tables, and vessels, one of which was inscribed with the name of king Unas of the Fifth Dynasty, were found in the corner of a large building erected in the late Old Kingdom (see figure 7.6, bottom).157 One of the shrines contained a wooden statue of Heqaib and a dummy ritual libation vessel, while the other was inscribed with the name of Heqaib’s son Sabni. The entrance door to the building was cased with wooden panels decorated

152. Kemp 1983; 1995; Seidlmayer 1987. 153. Franke 1994: 118–​127. 154. Pantalacci 1985; Goedicke 1989. 155. Osing et al. 1982: 33, 36–​37; nos. 28, 38, 39. 156. Franke 1994. 157. Dorn 2015, revising his earlier interpretation of this building as earliest shrine of Heqaib (Dorn 2005).

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Figure 7.6.  Evidence for local processions at Elephantine. Top: depiction of a procession in tomb of Heqaib, Sixth Dynasty. After Edel et al. 2008, pl. 46. Courtesy K.-​J. Seyfried. Bottom: wooden boxes, shrines, and statue found in the upper deposit of the residence of the governor. After Dorn 2015: fig. 13. Courtesy Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Abteilung Kairo.

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with offering scenes, similar to those in the tombs of local governors at the Qubbet el-​Hawa (see figure 7.6, top). For this reason, the building is interpreted as the residence of the local governors in the Sixth Dynasty. Some of the tomb scenes, including one in Heqaib’s tomb, depict processions with shrines and statues. In all likelihood, processions departed from the tomb of Heqaib and Sabni down into the town, perhaps to a building located below the Middle Kingdom sanctuary of Heqaib or to a chapel set up within the governor’s building.158 When the early sanctuary was refurbished by king Intef III in the Eleventh Dynasty, as an inscription of this king found at Elephantine says,159 the cultic equipment was decommissioned and deposited in the residence of the local governors of the Sixth Dynasty. There is something perplexing about the statue cult of the nomarchs and their affiliation with local temples. Both institutions are heavily centered on community affairs. Given their courtly origin, the early nomarchs seem almost to have inserted themselves forcefully into community structures, patronizing relevant local institutions and overtly demonstrating their relevance to the community. The emphasis they place on display of their families is often interpreted as an attempt at undermining royal authority, in the sense that family ties mattered more to them than their ties to the king. Seen through the eyes of a local, however, the message might have been that the nomarchs anchored their identity in their families rather than in the local communities. Socially and culturally, the nomarchy bridges the Old and Middle Kingdoms. The nomarchs appropriated royal prerogatives in the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period and presented themselves as patrons and protectors, a practice taken over by the kings of the Middle Kingdom.160 In the late First Intermediate Period, kings Intef II and III erected local temples and statue chapels at several sites. Their building

158. Dorn: 43–​44, 45–​49; Moeller 2016: 220–​226. 159. Leprohon 1983. 160. Franke 1997; 2006; Gestermann 1997.

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program was continued and extended by Middle Kingdom kings.161 There is a historical line from the implementation of royal statue cults in local temples in the late Old Kingdom, through the adoption and further development of this practice by the nomarchs, to the royal temple building program in the Middle Kingdom. However, contrary to the uninvolved and self-​centered attitude of the Old Kingdom kings, the Middle Kingdom kings, who originated from the milieu of the nomarchs, appreciated the important role of community shrines and designated local deities as their mothers and fathers. Ancestry, typical of the culture of the nomarchs, started becoming a wider model for connecting to the past. Mentuhotep II dedicated statues to his close family ancestors. Similar statues of Twelfth Dynasty kings are known.162 Interestingly, these do not refer to their biological fathers and grandfathers, but to kings of the Old Kingdom. The ancestor model was thus transformed from a social to a cultural model to communicate imaginary ancestries. Taking these observations together, the kings of the Middle Kingdom are presented as versions of their Old Kingdom forerunners reformed by the nomarchy of the First Intermediate Period.

7.7.  Conclusions This chapter has focused on the nature of, and exchange between, central and local milieus. Historical change and social diversity have been highlighted throughout, but a slightly greater emphasis than normally found has been placed on continuity in the transition from the Old to Middle Kingdoms. The question of how the First Intermediate Period is evaluated—​as a dark age of civil war and collapse or a transformative bridge between the Old and Middle Kingdoms—​has an effect on how the Old Kingdom is portrayed. The latter interpretation, which underlies this chapter, is based on the presence of continuous developments

161. Hirsch 2004. 162. Bussmann 2010: 205–​206.

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in provincial Egypt during the First Intermediate Period that challenge narratives of the rise and fall of the Old Kingdom. To sum up major structural developments, the social and cultural history of the Old Kingdom may be divided into three broad phases. During the early Old Kingdom, comprised of the Third and most of the Fourth Dynasties, centralization accelerated, and society at court became more stratified. The king was more clearly set apart from the rest of society than he had been earlier. Social engineering is evident from court contexts, within both cemeteries and settlements. Court society amalgamated in the high Old Kingdom from the late Fourth to the late Fifth Dynasties. Central administration became complex, while the competition between the king and his courtiers increased the presentation of royal ideology in visual display. Competition between peers increased and fostered new modes of display, on both the royal and non-​ royal levels. There is little evidence from provincial Egypt for this period, which makes it difficult to outline changes and continuities there. From the late Fifth Dynasty onward, the crown attempted to penetrate more deeply into local communities and engaged more widely with provincial Egypt. Courtiers were sent off into the provinces, perhaps in part as a strategy to get rid of rivals at court. They made court culture more widely visible in the hinterland and laid the foundation for the milieu of the nomarchs. After the Old Kingdom, the nomarchy dominated the history of Upper Egypt, ultimately fueling royal ideology and practice in the Middle Kingdom. From the comparative perspective of world history, Old Kingdom Egypt is characterized by a poor representation of cities in the archaeological record and an emphasis on the tomb in royal and elite display. The two phenomena are interrelated. The early Old Kingdom pyramids were gigantic monuments built in a society the majority of which lived in villages and small towns. As the royal mortuary cult expanded, local communities were increasingly drawn into the ambit of the central administration, and in the late Old Kingdom they nucleated around towns governed by former courtiers. Developments at court are central to this explanation of social change. Initially, however, royal bureaucrats may not have understood very well how to embed the central authority

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in local communities. Only once the central administration’s tentacles had extended into local temples, from the late Old Kingdom onward, did kingship and the state begin to be meaningfully established in the hinterland.163 It is difficult to explain why royal and elite culture first unfolded in funerary contexts rather than in palaces and temples. Perhaps funerary beliefs were particularly complex in Northeast Africa. The royal Pyramid Texts support this assumption, although some of these texts were likely adopted from court rituals and hymns to the gods and were secondarily adapted for funerary use. The annual inundation and unfavorable conditions for settlement might account for the lack of palaces and monumental temples in the preserved record. Yet large New Kingdom cities, as well as the Early Dynastic palace erected at Buto in the delta, demonstrate that it was possible to build grand architecture on the floodplain. Some further explanations can be suggested. Non-​royal funerary texts from the Old Kingdom show an interest in the behavior of the living toward the tombs and the deceased. Funerals were a significant theme in elite tomb decoration. Crucial for the founding of social memory, they provided an opportunity for public display that densely packed settlements did not offer. Local temples played a lesser role in elite culture. Initially they were small, just as the communities they served lived in small towns and villages. Toward the end of the Old Kingdom, they grew larger through royal initiative, as did the provincial towns after courtiers had been installed in the provinces. Perhaps temple religion is more typical of urban than of village societies whereas funerary culture centered on households and ancestors rather than on urban communities. Finally, funerary culture in third-​millennium Egypt needs to be seen in perspective. The vast majority of funerary arrangements were simple, as the examples reviewed show. The few thousand monumental exceptions that dominate the documented evidence of over three thousand years of history are probably not representative of how people lived and died in ancient Egypt.

163. Bussmann 2014b.

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There are, of course, many alternative options for writing a social and cultural history of the Old Kingdom. It might be possible to develop a historical view from ancient people’s sense of belonging to places rather than to dynasties and kingdoms, which reflects central concerns. A stronger focus could be placed on practices and social identity than on institutions.164 Social analysis can be further extended beyond rank to include gender, age, and ethnicity.165 The diversity of life experiences calls for attempts to write different histories from agent-​based perspectives. Contextualized research on the experience of the physical world provides another field for an alternative historiography. If objects constitute networks, as the discussion of object biography suggests,166 the analysis of the changing object repertoire throughout the third millennium offers an interesting perspective for future research on changes to the fabric of Old Kingdom society. R ef er en c es Alexanian, N. 1998. Ritualrelikte an Mastabagräbern des Alten Reiches. In Guksch, H. and Polz, D. (eds.), Stationen:  Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Ägyptens, Rainer Stadelmann gewidmet. Mainz: Zabern, 3–​22. Alexanian, N. 1999. Dahschur II:  das Grab des Prinzen Netjer-​aperef, die Mastaba II/​1 in Dahschur. Mainz: Zabern. Alexanian, N. 2001. Die provinziellen Mastabagräber und Friedhöfe im Alten Reich. PhD thesis, Universität Heidelberg. doi:10.11588/​heidok.00020538. Allen, J. P. 2015. The ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts. 2nd, rev. ed. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Arnold, F. 1998. Die Priesterhäuser der Chentkaues in Giza:  staatlicher Wohnungsbau als Interpretation der Wohnvorstellungen für einen “Idealmenschen”. MDAIK 54: 1–​17.

164. For a practice-​based approach, see Miniaci et al. 2018; for a history of the scribes as a social group in the Old Kingdom, see Piacentini 2002. 165. See, for example, Raue 2018 for negotiation of ethnic identities at a local level in the longue durée. 166. Gosden and Marshall 1999.

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Seidlmayer, S.J. 1996a. Die Staatliche Anlage der 3.  Dynastie in der Nordweststadt von Elephantine: archäologische und historische Probleme. In Bietak, M. (ed.), Haus und Palast im Alten Ägypten/​House and palace in ancient Egypt. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 195–​214. Seidlmayer, S.J. 1996b. Town and state in the early Old Kingdom: a view from Elephantine. In Spencer, J. (ed.), Aspects of early Egypt. London:  British Museum Press, 108–​127. Seidlmayer, S.J. 2000. The First Intermediate Period (c. 2160–​2055 bc). In Shaw, I. (ed.), The Oxford history of ancient Egypt. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 118–​147. Seidlmayer, S.J. 2001. Die Ikonographie des Todes. In Willems, H. (ed.), Social aspects of funerary culture in the Egyptian Old and Middle Kingdoms. Leuven: Peeters, 205–​252. Seidlmayer, S.J. 2006. Der Beitrag der Gräberfelder zur Siedlungsarchäologie Ägyptens. In Czerny, E., Hein, I., Hunger, H., Melman, D. and Schwab, A. (eds.), Timelines: studies in honour of Manfred Bietak. Leuven: Peeters, 309–​316. Sethe, K. 1908. Die altägyptischen Pyramidentexte, nach den Papierabdrücken und Photographien des Berliner Museums, vol. 1. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Shirai, Y. 2006. Ideal and reality in Old Kingdom private funerary cults. In Bárta, M. (ed.), The Old Kingdom art and archaeology. Prague:  Czech Institute of Egyptology, Charles University, 325–​333. Smith, W.S. 1949. A history of Egyptian sculpture and painting in the Old Kingdom. 2nd ed. London:  Geoffrey Cumberlege, Oxford University Press for Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Snape, S. 2011. Ancient Egyptian tombs: the culture of life and death. Blackwell ancient religions. Chichester and Malden MA: Wiley-​Blackwell. Stadelmann, R. 1995. Der strenge Stil der frühen vierten Dynastie. In Deutsches Archäologisches Institut (ed.), Kunst des Alten Reiches. Mainz:  Zabern, 155–​166. Stauder-​Porchet, J. 2017. Les autobiographies de l’Ancien Empire égyptien: étude sur la naissance d’un genre. Leuven: Peeters. Stockfisch, D. 2003. Untersuchungen zum Totenkult des ägyptischen Königs im Alten Reich:  die Dekoration der königlichen Totenkultanlagen. Hamburg: Dr. Kovač.

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Strudwick, N. 1985. The administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom: the highest titles and their holders. London: Kegan Paul International. Strudwick, N. 2005. Texts from the Pyramid Age. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Tait, J. 2003. “Never had the like occurred”:  Egypt’s view of its past. London: University College London Press. Tavares, A. 2011. Village, town and barracks:  a Fourth Dynasty settlement at Heit el-​Ghurab, Giza. In Strudwick, N. and Strudwick, H. (eds.), Old Kingdom, new perspectives:  Egyptian art and archaeology 2750–​2150 bc. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 270–​277. Trigger, B.G. 2003. Understanding early civilizations:  a comparative study. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Valloggia, M. 1998. Balat IV: Le monument funéraire d’Ima-​Pepy/​Ima-​Meryrê. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Vanthuyne, B. 2016. Early Old Kingdom rock circle cemeteries in Deir el-​ Bersha and Deir Abu Hinnis. In Adams, M. D. (ed.), Egypt at its origins 4. Leuven: Peeters, 427–​459. Vischak, D. 2015. Community and identity in ancient Egypt: the Old Kingdom cemetery at Qubbet el-​Hawa. New York: Cambridge University Press. Vymazalová, H. 2011. The economic connection between the royal cult in the pyramid temples and the sun temples in Abusir. In Strudwick, N. and Strudwick, H. (eds.), Old Kingdom, new perspectives:  Egyptian art and archaeology 2750–​2150 bc. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 295–​303. Wenke, R.J. 2009. The ancient Egyptian state: the origins of Egyptian culture (c. 8000–​2000 bc). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wengrow, D. 1999. The intellectual adventure of Henri Frankfort: a missing chapter in the history of archaeological thought. AJA 103: 597–​613. Wild, H. 1953. Le tombeau de Ti, 2: la chapelle, première partie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Wild, H. 1966. Le tombeau de Ti, 3: la chapelle, deuxième partie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Willems, H. 2014. Historical and archaeological aspects of Egyptian funerary culture: religious ideas and ritual practice in Middle Kingdom elite cemeteries. Leiden: Brill. Witsell, A. 2018. Kromer 2018: basket by basket. AERAgram 19: 2–​9.

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Yoffee, N. 2005. Myths of the archaic state: evolution of the earliest cities, states and civilizations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yoffee, N. (ed.) 2015. The Cambridge world history, III: early cities in comparative perspective, 4000 bce–​1200 ce. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ziermann, M. 2002. De l’habitat à la ville fortifiée:  Éléphantine:  données choisies sur l’urbanisation et l’architecture (Ière-​VIe dynastie). Archéo-​Nil 12: 29–​46.

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The Early Dynastic Near East Vitali Bartash

8.1.  Introduction The Early Dynastic (ED) is one of the longest (3000/​2900–​2350/​2300 bc) periods in ancient Near Eastern history.1 For reasons that remain obscure, cuneiform writing was reformed around 3000 bc. As a result, we understand cuneiform texts of the ED period incomparably better than those of the preceding Late Uruk and Jemdet Nasr periods (cf. ­chapter 3).2 By the end of the ED period, cuneiform writing had taken on the basic characteristics that were to remain typical for all subsequent periods of its use. The change in writing principles coincided with the emergence of a range of new textual genres: royal/​monumental, literary, legal, and epistolary texts. As ED texts are the earliest fully understandable textual data for historical reconstructions, the ED can be seen as the first genuinely historical period in the ancient Near East. The language of this text production was initially only Sumerian. From 2500 to 2350 1. I wish to thank Tobias Helms (University of Mainz) for providing me with illustrations of the Tell Chuera project. The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. 2. Lecompte 2013a; Bartash 2015b. See Matthews 1992 for the Jemdet Nasr period. Vitali Bartash, The Early Dynastic Near East In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0009.

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bc onward, this writing system was also adopted to write early Semitic languages throughout northern Mesopotamia, in what is today northern Iraq and Syria. The ED period was a formative stage in the history of the Near East (see figure 8.1). For the first time written, archaeological, and artistic sources reveal those institutions and characteristics that define the region for the following three millennia and beyond: the class system, temples and palaces that functioned as sociopolitical and economic hubs, the monarchy, interregional trade, and literacy, to name only the most prominent features. The traditional image of the ED period is one of cultural and political multicentricity, regionality, and local diversity, as well as aggressive military activities, which have been interpreted as early attempts to establish regional political hegemonies with the economic goal of consolidating power, wealth, and prestige in the hands of a minority, the “elite.” The archaeologist Henri Frankfort coined the term “Early Dynastic” in 1932 to describe the time span between the Jemdet Nasr archaeological period and the consolidation of the region’s first macro-​state by Sargon of Akkad around 2300 bc. Its division into three subperiods was based on the stratigraphy of Ešnunna (Tell Asmar) and Tutub (Khafajah) in the Diyala region east of Baghdad.3 Archaeologically, the beginning of the ED period is associated with plano-​convex bricks (flat on one side but rounded on the other). The later ED period is characterized by the use of rectangular bricks, which were replaced by square bricks during the Old Akkadian period. Distinctive ceramics and seal styles are also characteristic of the ED in southern Mesopotamia.4 While the term and the concept of the Early Dynastic have found wide acceptance, Frankfort’s original tripartite subdivision has been criticized and rejected, as evidence for his “ED II” period seems to be lacking entirely outside the Diyala region.5 Nevertheless, his terminology was so persuasive that today most specialists refer to the “ED I–​II” 3. Nissen 2015. 4. Nissen 2015: 14–​18. 5. Porada et al. 1992; Evans 2007.

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Figure 8.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 8. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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(ca. 2900–​2575 bc), “ED IIIa” (ca. 2575–​2475 bc), and “ED IIIb” (ca. 2475–​2300 bc) periods of southern Mesopotamia (using the approximate datings most recently suggested by Walther Sallaberger and Ingo Schrakamp).6 Occasionally, only a very broad division of the ED period into “earlier” and “later” is used.7 The clearly observable trajectory toward the unification of southern Mesopotamia during the reigns of Enšakušanna, Lugalzagesi, and Sargon has led to a definition of the latter part of ED IIIb as “proto-​imperial.”8 Recent studies have established a number of plausible synchronisms between several royal dynasties and major political events in southern Mesopotamia and in Syria.9 The ED chronology in southern Mesopotamia is paralleled by the “Early Jezireh” (EJ) chronology for Syria.10 Nevertheless, an absolute chronology is currently impossible to establish for this period, and one must be prepared to adjust dates as new evidence becomes available. Thus, all dates in this chapter are of course only approximate and preliminary. Written sources generally provide the primary foundation for any attempt to reconstruct the ED history of the Near East. Owing to the qualitative and quantitative nature of the available evidence, this overview emphasizes southern Mesopotamia, with Sumer in the south and Akkad (Sumerian Uri; Semitic Wari’um) in the north.11 Importantly, recent scholarship has confirmed that the value of the Sumerian King List, a later literary composition naming rulers

6. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 136, 302. 7. Nissen 2015. 8. Marchesi 2015. 9. Cf. the contributions by Archi, Biga, and others in Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015. 10. See Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 215, 236 for the correspondences between this scheme and the archaeological layers of the significant sites excavated in Syria. 11. Cooper 2013: 291–​292; Civil 2013: 54–​57; Schrakamp 2016.

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and dynasties that existed in various recensions since at least the Ur III period,12 is minimal for the reconstruction of the history of the ED period. The relevant sources for our study are cuneiform tablets and inscribed stone monuments from southern Mesopotamia, supplemented by the ED IIIb–​period archives from the North Syrian cities of Ebla (Tell Mardikh) and Nabada (Tell Beydar) discovered in the 1970s and 1990s, respectively. Throughout Iran, the writing systems of “Proto-​ Elamite” (extinct by 2800 bc) and “Linear Elamite” (in use since at least 2500 bc) were in use.13 However, as they remain undeciphered or only poorly understood, they offer limited information for the reconstruction of historical events in our period. Table 8.1 offers a general overview of the most significant ED cuneiform archives. Specialists usually classify them as either temple archives (typically in southern Mesopotamia) or palace archives (typically in northern Mesopotamia, i.e., Syria and northern Iraq). Nevertheless, the discovery of literary and school texts in domestic quarters in ED IIIa Šuruppag (or Šuruppak; modern Fara) and Tell Abu Salabikh (probably ancient Ereš)14 demonstrates that scribes passed on their knowledge and know-​how in their homes. This is in line with the evidence from later periods.15 Administrative documents record the management of temple and palatial economies and make up about 90 percent of the extant written corpus. Royal/​monumental inscriptions are texts commissioned by rulers and other elite individuals and dedicated to a deity to commemorate the construction or, more often, renovation of a temple.16 Written in a “high” literary language, these texts communicate what seem to be factual historical data, including references to wars and battles, the destruction and seizure of enemy lands and cities, and the taking of prisoners,

12. Steinkeller 2003. 13. Desset 2018; cf. also ­chapter 3. 14. Krebernik 1998: 254; Krebernik and Postgate 2009: 7. 15. Veldhuis 2014a: 203. 16. Frayne 2008.

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Table 8.1.  Overview of the most significant Early Dynastic cuneiform archives Sub-​periods

Southern Mesopotamia

Northern Mesopotamia (incl. Syria)

ED I–​II (3000/​ 1. Inventories or possibly sales 2900–​2600 bc) of land (“ancient kudurrus”; definitely sales in ED IIIa–​b).a 2. Administrative archive from Ur: ca. 300 tablets.b

No texts.

ED IIIa (2600–​ 1. Šuruppag (Fara): over 1,000 tablets: administrative, legal 2500 bc) (sales of houses and fields), lexical, literary. 2. Tell Abu Salabikh: over 500 tablets; mostly lexical and literary.c

No texts

ED IIIb (2500–​ 2350 bc)

1. Umma region: at least 1,000 texts: mostly administrative and legal, from the temple of Inana at Zabalam.d 2. Adab: hundreds of administrative and legal texts.e 3. Girsu: ca. 1,800 tablets: administrative from the Emunus, i.e., temple of the goddess Bawa;f royal inscriptions, Erekagina’s Reforms.

1. Nabada (Tell Beydar): ca. 200 administrative tablets (c. 2440–​2360  bc)g 2 . Ebla (Tell Mardikh): ca. 4,000 texts from the palace archive:h administrative, lexical, literary, diplomatic, rituals (ca. 2340–​2310  bc). 3. Mari (Tell Hariri): a small number of administrative and monumental texts.i

Gelb, Steinkeller and Whiting 1989–​1991; Steinkeller 2011: 211–​213. Lecompte 2014; Bartash 2015b. c Krebernik 1998. d Powell 1978; Monaco 2011; Notizia and Visicato 2016. e Ismail et al. 1997; Milano et al. 2004. f Complete texts (Massimo Maiocchi, personal communication); see the website “Ebla Digital Archives” (http://​ebda.cnr.it/​) for the electronic edition of the Ebla archives. g Owing to the smooth transition from the ED IIIb to the Early Sargonic period at Adab during the reign of governor Meskigala, it is difficult to establish the exact number of Adab ED IIIb tablets; see Visicato and Westenholz 2010 and Schrakamp 2013b. h Prentice 2010. i Charpin 1987. a

b

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although it is rarely possible to confirm these data using contemporary administrative or other archival texts. Legal documents record the sale and purchase of land, houses, and slaves by individuals, usually the highest-​level dignitaries of the temple and palace households.17 Lexical lists serve as vocabularies used by scribes to master their reading and writing skills and aid in the application of sophisticated computational and metrological techniques in their daily work.18 Literary texts include wisdom literature; compositions celebrating temples, deities, and heroes; and incantations. In addition, the archives of Ebla include examples of treaties and diplomatic letters as well as ritual descriptions. It is today universally accepted that royal and literary inscriptions must be used for historical reconstruction with the utmost care. Considering the “archival turn” in late twentieth-​century historical research, it is also appropriate to emphasize the need for a critical evaluation of those ED sources that have hitherto been perceived as largely unbiased: archival texts, namely administrative, legal, and epistolary documents. A fundamental element of any archive is its silence on certain matters, which necessarily results in bias. No archive provides a holistic view of past reality. Archives in every period and region were and are concerned with the specific functions of particular individuals—​the data of importance for the archive’s creators. Universally, archives predating the very recent past contain the voices of the elites, to no less an extent than in their more obviously personal and subjective political and religious documents (such as royal inscriptions and religious literature). Frequently, it is the very top and very bottom levels of a society that are documented in archives, while the lives of other groups, quite possibly even the majority of a population, can go unrecorded. As Thomas, Fowler, and Johnson put it in their 2017 study The Silence of the Archive: “Archives are a form of memory, and record a truth. We must remember that it is not the whole and only truth.”19

17. Gelb, Steinkeller and Whiting 1989–​1991. 18. Veldhuis 2014a; Friberg 2007. 19. Thomas, Fowler and Johnson 2017: 1, also 46, 103.

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Moreover, to cite the cuneiform specialist Marvin Powell, it is challenging to convert philology into history.20 The need to rely on a theoretical framework or at least some sort of preconceived knowledge in writing the history of the ED Near East adds to the already substantial challenges of the paleographic and philological interpretations of these early cuneiform texts. As a result of applying (consciously or unconsciously) various theories or models to the patchy evidence available to us, scholars of the ED Near East have occasionally come to diametrically opposed conclusions regarding the nature of the underlying political, social, and economic systems.21 These methodological difficulties are compounded by the fact that there is a vast quantitative discrepancy between the relatively limited number of specialists working on the ED period and the number of written sources available, with a steady influx of newly discovered additional texts providing ever more material. Up-​to-​date ED scholarship is rarely ever published in a sufficiently visible manner to make an impact on the wider historical discourse. As a result, nonspecialist anthropologists and historians seeking to include the ED Near East in their theories of cultural and historical dynamics often rely on outdated, secondary literature. And yet new written and archaeological data from sites such as Ebla and Tell Beydar in Syria, or Konar Sandal in Iran, offer us the opportunity to better understand this crucial period in history.

8.2.  Population and settlements In southern Mesopotamia, the ED period was one of maximum urbanization. Cities grew at the expense of rural settlements. The overall number of cities decreased, but those that survived increased dramatically in size. The result of urbanization and the accompanying state formation was frequently interregional conflict,22 and many cities were surrounded

20. Powell 1994: 104. 21. Van de Mieroop 1999. 22. Emberling 2016: 39.

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by walls to protect their inhabitants from attack.23 Uruk (Warka) grew from 250 ha during the late fourth millennium to at least 550 ha within the walled city during the ED I period.24 Some Late Uruk settlements developed into full-​fledged cities during the ED period, including Nippur, Adab, Šuruppag (70 and, later, 100 ha), Umma (ca. 200 ha), Zabalam, Larsa, Patibira and Ur (50 ha), with new settlements in northern Babylonia, such as Kiš at 60 ha (ED I), becoming their rivals. It is thought that by the end of the ED period, approximately 80 percent of the population of southern Mesopotamia lived in settlements of 40 ha or more. At approximately 600 ha, Lagaš (al-​Hiba) was the largest city in southern Mesopotamia.25 In contrast to the previous Uruk period, urban centers began to align along waterways, which resulted in the “linear patterning” of southern Mesopotamia.26 Even more important is the emergence of large-​scale irrigation works during the ED I period.27 Recent research links this phenomenon to the growing power of the rulers of the ED Sumerian city states since, according to their inscriptions, they were responsible for irrigation management.28 This theory challenges the “hydraulic” rationale behind the emergence of “civilization” in southern Mesopotamia during the Uruk period. The model of the city state derived from classical Greece is very imprecise when applied to the political structures and dynamics in southern Mesopotamia during the ED period. Most, if not all, late ED “city states” were the result of mergers between originally independent, and often equally large, urban communities into a single political hub: a seat of a patrilineal dynasty of male rulers. The Lagaš state is the most well-​researched example of this structure. It contained the cities of 23. Adams and Nissen 1972; Pollock 1999: 60–​65, 72–​73; Ur 2013: fig. 7.5 and 7.9. 24. Algaze 2018: 26. 25. Ur 2013: fig. 7.10. 26. Ur 2012: 540–​541; 2013. 27. Nissen 2015: 4–​5. 28. Schrakamp 2017.

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Girsu (at least 370 ha), Lagaš, and Nigin (Tell Zurghul, 67 ha); some smaller towns, such as Sirara; and the strategically placed harbor town of Gu’abba, which provided a communication channel to the Gulf. Lagaš, the state’s name, featured prominently in the titles of its rulers, implying that this city was its original political center. However, for unknown reasons, at some point during ED IIIa the capital was moved to Girsu. Another example of the ED city state in southern Mesopotamia is even more enigmatic:  Umma, the bitter enemy of Lagaš. Umma bordered Lagaš along the Tigris to the northeast. At least a thousand cuneiform tablets unearthed in clandestine excavations during the 1990s and early 2000s (a consequence of first the embargo and then the US-​ led invasion of Iraq) have come to light in various collections around the world. These documents have already significantly improved our knowledge of Umma’s internal political structure. Continuing research promises to expand our understanding of the late ED IIIb period, which hitherto has been seen only through the lens of the Lagaš archives. By the late ED period, the Umma state included the major hubs of Tell Jokha, Umm al-​Aqarib, and Tell Ibzekh (Zabalam), plus smaller towns such as Tell Shmid (ancient Ki’an?). The original Umma of the ED period seems to have been Umm al-​Aqarib; by the Sargonic period this settlement had been abandoned in favor of Tell Jokha, the ancient city of Geša. In transferring the prestigious name Umma to neighboring Geša, Tell Jokha became known by both names.29 Adab (Tell Bismaya) is another urban hub that has recently yielded a flood of illicit cuneiform tablets. Although most date to the Sargonic era, several hundred or more belong to the ED IIIa–​b period. Numerous references to Karkara (Tell Jidr) may imply that this city was within Adab’s sphere of influence. This may also be true of the neighboring city Isin (Ishan al-​Bahriyat).30 It is the task of future research to investigate whether all urban settlements in southern Mesopotamia were under the control of a dozen or 29. Selz 2003:  508; Frayne 2008:  357–​259; 2009:  61; Almamori 2014a; 2014b; Bartash 2015c. 30. See commentary to Bartash 2017: no. 5.

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so embryonic territorial states of this type by the end of the ED period. References to the rulers (ensi) of a large number of smaller localities may indicate that the process of nucleation developed in parallel with smaller-​scale, independent polities. Either way, the final decades of the ED period, called the “proto-​imperial period” by Gianni Marchesi,31 exhibit an inevitable trajectory toward the unification of southern Mesopotamia under one dynasty. Contrary to the contemporary dominant archaeological model, ED cuneiform archives attest to hundreds of place names in southern Mesopotamia, of which “cities” represent only a tiny portion. The determinative ki, “place,” was applied by scribes to settlements of any size and even to “lands.” References to numerous “villages” (eduru) and “fortresses” (bad) reflect a flourishing extra-​urban settlement network.32 These settlements were likely built with reeds and may have left little trace. However, because only limited investigations of ED rural settlements in southern Mesopotamia have been conducted to date (in contrast to northern Mesopotamia), this remains purely hypothetical. The collapse of the Uruk infrastructure by 3100 bc in northern Mesopotamia and Syria reversed the process of urbanization, which re-​ emerged only around 2600 bc. Scholars have identified an oscillating pattern of urbanization and ruralization/​nomadization throughout the fourth and third millennia in this region.33 Apart from several numerical tablets from Nagar (Tell Brak) and elsewhere, there are no written data from the period 3100–​2600 bc. Designated by a specific ceramic style, the “Nineveh 5” archaeological culture emerged in the Upper Tigris region and spread into eastern Syria ca. 3100–​2550 bc. Salvage excavations have allowed archaeologists to study two-​tiered settlement networks (towns and dependent villages) in the region, with Tell Bderi (5 ha) and Tell Raqa’i (0.4 ha) representing the two types. Monumental architecture is generally absent. Temples

31. Marchesi 2015. 32. Steible 2015; Lecompte 2013b. 33. Ur 2010: 401–​407.

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take the form of simple, one-​room buildings with an altar. Nevertheless, the use of cylinder seals and the presence of enclosed grain storage space illustrate, in addition to the communal use of land and the surplus production of specialized grain, the existence of an administrative hierarchy and the concentration of economic and political power in the hands of an elite. Scholars apply the model of “complex chiefdoms” to Nineveh 5 societies, which includes the elite appropriation of surpluses, professional specialization (rulers, officials, priests, and craftsmen who do not produce food), and a tributary relationship between towns and villages.34 However, apart from cylinder seals, there are few signs of social differentiation in these communities, possibly suggesting a different kind of social order. A similar picture emerges in Western Syria and the Upper Euphrates region of Turkey with the Late Reserved Slip and Red-​Black Burnished ware archaeological cultures. Modest settlements such as Hama (the Hamadu of the Ebla archives) exhibit neither central planning nor public buildings, implying little social differentiation. A  different trajectory toward urbanism is suggested by the large storage facility beneath the later Palace G at Ebla (Tell Mardikh) and the enclosed temple precinct erected on platforms at Halawa on the Euphrates, which served ideological purposes and functioned as a specialized production center.35 Although still poorly understood, these examples may illustrate the roots of the subsequent urban rebirth in Syria. From 2600 to 2500 bc, northern Mesopotamia (including Syria) rapidly returned to urban life. This was marked by the emergence of centralized political power, clear-​cut social stratification, the construction of monumental architecture including palaces and temples, and the occasional use of writing. This “Second Urban Revolution” lasted from 2600 to 2000 bc, extending beyond the ED period. The role played by the southern Mesopotamian states, which may have acted as elder peers

34. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 211–​224. 35. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 224–​231.

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in this process, is still debated.36 Settlement patterns attest to a three-​ or even four-​tiered structure. The top was occupied by large cities, some of which became centers of proto-​regional states by the end of the ED period. These include Tell Mardikh (Ebla, 60 ha), Aleppo (Halab), Hama (Hamadu), Tell Mishrife (Qatna, 100 ha), Tell Brak (Nagar), Tell Leilan (Šehna, 100 ha), Tell Mozan (Urkeš), Tell Bi’a (Tuttul, 35–​40 ha), and Tell Hariri (Mari, at least 100 ha). Many of these were destroyed around 2300 bc as a result of large-​scale military action (most likely the conquests of Sargon of Akkad). Generally, Syrian cities were smaller than their Sumerian peers, which may hinge on the lack of effective waterways for transport.37 The second settlement level was occupied by smaller, dependent urban centers like Tell Beydar (Nabada) and Tell Ashara (Terqa), while small towns and villages constituted the lower levels. Fortification was a common feature in the region, fitting well into the contemporary scholarly model of the “warring ED Near East.”38 The Khabur and Balikh Rivers region, with Tell Chuera (perhaps ancient Abarsal; see figure 8.3) and Tell Mozan (ancient Urkeš), and other locations in Syria (Tell Hariri, ancient Mari) attest to a distinctive type of large settlement, the “Kranzhügel” (literally “wreath mound”). These settlements were composed of an elevated upper town and a surrounding lower town. Both were walled. Main streets ran in various directions and ended in gates. With its 3,000 sq m palace that evolved from an elite residence into the domicile of much humbler occupants, Tell Chuera (80 ha) epitomizes this type of settlement (see figure 8.2).39 The raison d’être behind these “wreath mounds” is disputed, although it may have had to do with ecological conditions; this region was ill-​suited for agriculture.40

36. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 277. 37. Wilkinson 1994. 38. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 250–​251; Helms and Meyer 2016. 39. Hempelmann 2013; Tamm 2018. 40. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 256–​259.

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Figure 8.2.  Palace F at Tell Chuera (local period ID, EJ 3b–​4a). Prepared by Alexander Tamm. Courtesy Tell Chuera Project.

The discovery in 1973–​1976 of the large, burned Palace G at Ebla, dating to the late twenty-​fourth century bc,41 and its in situ archives containing approximately four thousand administrative, diplomatic, and literary cuneiform tablets, has transformed the historical image of ED Syria, which is now regarded as a peer of the southern Mesopotamian polities, despite the numerous examples of undeniably southern influence on its art, writing, and possibly also its administration.42 In Iran, the situation was similar in some respects.43 Around 2900/​2800 bc, most “Proto-​ Elamite” and “primary” large urban 41. For Syrian archaeological chronology see Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 236. 42. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 241, 276. 43. See Potts 2015: 85–​91 for the archaeology of western Iran during this period.

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Figure  8.3. Geomagnetic map of Tell Chuera. Prepared by Henrike Backhaus, using geomagnetic data of Posselt and Zickgraf GbR. Courtesy Tell Chuera Project.

centers collapsed. The fourth-​millennium highland city of Anšan (Tell-​e Malyan) shrank from 50 to 28 ha by 2600 bc, only to be abandoned in 2500/​2400 bc. The same can be said of Susa, in the lowlands. The reasons for this deurbanization are uncertain. The re-​emergence of large urban centers occurred during the middle of the third millennium. Sites began to develop on newly established trade routes that were oriented toward the Persian Gulf, with Mesopotamia and the Indus valley the final destinations for the traded goods. A  new type of settlement, the trading entrepôt with no monumental buildings, evolved, such as Shahr-​i Sokhta, an approximately 100 ha site that specialized in the industry and trade of semiprecious stones and other

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goods.44 In general, most Iranian ED cites never achieved the grandeur of their counterparts in Mesopotamia or the Indus. Konar Sandal in the Halil Rud valley, south of modern Jiroft, offers one notable exception.45 A  settlement size of 400 ha, monumental buildings, the large-​scale consumption of internationally acquired goods and distinctive chlorite bowls in the Jiroft style, and the use of writing (“Linear Elamite”) are all signs of deep social stratification, and this sociopolitical phenomenon from the late ED period can easily be compared to its southern Mesopotamian contemporaries. Konar Sandal and Jiroft have been associated with Marhaši, a polity that regularly appears in late third-​millennium Sumerian records.46 A geographically broad cultural complex associated with this phenomenon is sometimes called “Trans-​ Elamite,” emphasizing its location in eastern Iran.47 The linguistic situation in the Near East is evident only for those regions where writing was nurtured. Language is often associated with ethnicity, a concept that remains problematic in the context of the ED period. Presently there is no evidence to suggest that southern Mesopotamia had any autochthonous population other than the Sumerians during the early historical periods.48 However, a self-​ consciousness of “Sumerian-​ness” only emerged by the end of the third millennium bc, when the Sumerian language was in decline.49 Generally, ethnicity plays no role in the written records, while membership in an (urban) community was essential; people from Sumer and Akkad are associated with their place of residence, for example as a “man of Umma.” Nevertheless, “the others” are marked with exo-​ ethnonyms in Sumerian records:  Amorites, Elamites, Subareans, etc. The example of the Subareans is illustrative. The term was applied not only to a 44. Thornton  2012. 45. Madjidzadeh and Pittman 2008; Pittman 2013. 46. Steinkeller  2014. 47. See discussion and critique in Potts 2015: 91. 48. Rubio  1999. 49. Cooper 2010: 332; 2016a; 2016b: 54–​55; Rubio 2016.

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person who spoke the Subarean language or was a citizen of Subir in the Transtigridian region but also to a broader region in northern Mesopotamia during the Sargonic period and probably even earlier. This demonstrates the inaccuracy of the emic “ethnographic” terminology of the cuneiform records from southern Mesopotamia.50 Personal names in them show that the bearers of Sumerian names had lived in southern Mesopotamia since time immemorial. The Semites lived to the north.51 However, the exact border between the two spheres, if one ever existed, must have shifted farther south over the course of the ED period. For example, of the approximately seventeen hundred personal names from ED IIIa Šuruppag (2600 bc) in central Sumer, only about fifty are Semitic. In contrast, 40 percent of the individuals in the roughly contemporary archives of Tell Abu Salabikh to the north of Nippur were Semites.52 However, ED IIIa administrative texts from Kiš indicate a puzzling fact:  a substantial majority of the individuals who appear in them bear Sumerian names.53 Either Kiš was a Sumerian enclave in the north or Tell Abu Salabikh was a Semitic enclave in the south during the ED IIIa. The pattern changed in ED IIIb. The Ebla archives demonstrate that the majority of the population at Kiš was Semitic.54 All of those in northern Mesopotamia, including Syria, spoke an early Semitic language during the ED period. Its classification in terms of “Eastern” and “Western” is problematic.55 Only the Ebla sources provide a detailed picture of this idiom.56 Personal names in the texts from Nabada (Tell Beydar) in the Upper Khabur region demonstrate that this

50. Bartash 2018b. 51. For example, Krebernik 1998: 270. 52. Krebernik 1998: 261, 265. 53. See ED IIIa Kish texts in Grégoire 1996. 54. Archi 1987: 130–​131. 55. Tonietti 2018. 56. Rubio 2006.

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region was also Semitic, although several names attested there may be Hurrian.57 Elamite personal names in the ED IIIb records from the Lagaš state and those at Susa in the following Old Akkadian period indicate that Elamites were the autochthonous population of southwestern Iran and the northern coast of the Persian Gulf.58 Many more languages and “ethnicities” were certainly present in the mountain regions of Iran and Anatolia.

8.3.  Wars and alliances in southern Mesopotamia: ED  I–​IIIa City seals of the Jemdet Nasr/​ED I periods and related early cuneiform texts from southern Mesopotamia testify to the existence of an alliance of a dozen Sumerian cities. Among those, Ur, Larsa, Zabalam, Urum, Arina, and perhaps Keš have been identified. The nature of this union remains disputed; interpretations range from a shared “Sumerian” identity to a trade network to a political superstructure that would encompass all of southern Mesopotamia.59 Steinkeller proposed the existence of an amphictyonic organization centered on the cult of the goddess Inana at Uruk during the Late Uruk and Jemdet Nasr periods, which was then transformed at the onset of the ED period: Uruk and its Inana cult lost its primacy in Sumer to the city of Nippur and its male deity Enlil.60 Steinkeller viewed the rise of the Kiš state in northern Babylonia as the background to this political-​religious shift in Sumer.61 Either way, the ED I–​IIIa written documentation seems to present two related political phenomena: (a) the aggressive politics of the Kiš state and the special

57. Richter 2004: 276–​278. 58. Zadok 1994: 38; Potts 2015: 102–​103. 59. See c­ hapter 3 in this volume. 60. See Selz 1992. 61. Steinkeller 2002.

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status of its rulers and (b) an “alliance” of Sumerian cities immediately to the south of this supernova polity. Kiš began the third millennium bc as two villages: Kiš proper and Hursagkalama (“The Mountain of the Land”).62 By the middle of the third millennium, it had become possibly the largest city in the world.63 It is hardly coincidental that Mesopotamian hegemons—​first Kiš and then Akkad, Babylon, and finally Baghdad—​are located in roughly the same area, with easy overland access to southern and northern Mesopotamia, Syria, and Iran. The ED II/​IIIa period witnessed the building of Palace A at Hursagkalama, probably the earliest palace in Mesopotamia, as well as the twin ziggurats and an administrative and production center, the Plano-​Convex Building.64 Excavations at Kiš have yielded some ED IIIa tablets. These document the same administrative practices in the “great households” as found among their peers in southern cities. With rare exceptions, people in them bear Sumerian personal names. Kiš engaged in aggressive politics in northern Babylonia and was intrusive in the affairs of southern Sumerian city states. The earliest historical record documenting the first aspect is the Prisoner Plaque, which may also be the earliest historical document in the Near East.65 It records thirty-​six thousand war captives associated with twenty-​five place names located in the Diyala/​Transtigridian region—​that is, all within reach of Kiš. Steinkeller interpreted these data as a cumulative account of territorial conquests over a certain period. Further developing the theory of a “Kiš civilization” during the ED period originally proposed by Gelb, he postulated the existence of a large territorial, ethnically Semitic (“Proto-​ Akkadian”) polity in central Mesopotamia centered on Kiš, which reached its political peak in ED IIIa under king Mesilim.66 In this view,

62. The “western” Kish is Tell Uhaimir; “East Kish” is ancient Hursagkalama = Tell Ingharra. 63. Yoffee 2005: 57; 2013. 64. Zaina 2015; 2016. 65. Steinkeller 2013. 66. Gelb 1981; Steinkeller 1993.

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the lexical List of Geographic Names from Šuruppag, Tell Abu Salabikh, and Ebla that lists hundreds of place names in northern Mesopotamia and as far as Assur and the Iranian plateau represents a gazetteer of this predatory polity.67 Steinkeller has argued that it must have served as the prototype for the later Akkadian state. Although it was doubtless a prominent political center, Kiš had equally strong rivals. The nearby polities Akšak and Mari prevented Kiš from rising to the level of a territorial state.68 One major point of interest in the Kiš debate has long been the title “king (Sumerian lugal, ‘master, lord’) of Kiš.” Both the rulers of Kiš and some of their peers in the south adopted this title in some of their inscriptions during ED IIIb (the period of Uruk and Ur). Scholars disagree over whether this should be interpreted as representing real, temporary control over the city of Kiš; a claim of regional hegemony; or an honorific title.69 The inscribed objects of several kings of Kiš found in the Diyala region and Sumer do not necessarily mean that Kiš controlled these states at any point in time. More likely Kiš, as did every Sumerian city state, included its adjacent cities and towns.70 In general, control of territory was problematic in early Mesopotamia. Political structures that extended beyond a single urban community easily collapsed.71 Alternatively, the Prisoner Plaque from Kiš may testify to local headhunting rather than the existence of a territorial state. As for alliances, the official archives of ED IIIa Šuruppag document the exchange of workers, messengers, and goods among six Sumerian city states:  Uruk and its district/​ twin-​ city Kulaba, Adab, Nippur, Lagaš, Šuruppag, and Umma. These data allowed Thorkild Jacobsen to 67. Frayne 1992. 68. Yoffee 1995: 290–​291. 69. Marchesi 2015: 139–​140. 70. Adams 2001: 349: “[Mesopotamian] monarchs repeatedly credited themselves with rebuilding temples in cities they had subjugated. Ceremonial inscriptional and building activity, in other words, need not . . . be correlated at all closely with contentious, fluctuating patterns of territorial control.” 71. Richardson 2012.

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formulate the theory of the “Kengir league” (Ki’engi was the term for Sumer in subsequent periods).72 Pomponio and Visicato renamed this alliance “Hexapolis” and argued that Ki’engi was not the name of the league but rather a territory within its zone of control.73 Recent research by Steible has suggested that the “Regio,” as he called the alliance, also included Sippar, Kiš, Keš, and Ahuti. He has drawn attention to the fact that waterways dictated relations between the cities in the alliance.74 Notably, the Šuruppag archives mention contingents of “lads (going to) battle.” It was precisely this that brought the theory of a military alliance to life. Only the six states previously listed are mentioned as suppliers of troops. The identity of the assumed enemy is never disclosed. The ritual activity of the Kiš king Mesilim (ED II/​IIIa) at Adab and Girsu, documented in his inscriptions, is interpreted by some scholars as a sign of his hegemony. According to this view, Kiš chaperoned the “alliance,” whose adversary was Ur.75 However, this conclusion is based on indirect evidence. Besides, the total number of “lads” does not exceed a thousand, a suspiciously low number for contesting any serious adversary, be it Ur, Kiš, Elam, or any other entity.76 Moreover, the “alliance” model in its present state fails to explain why other important cities in the region, such as Larsa, Patibira, Isin, and Karkara, had no voice in it. A cautious assessment of the data suggests that the transportational, diplomatic, cultic, and other relationships that existed between neighboring states connected by the same waterways may explain the nature of this “alliance.” The military actions of the “Hexapolis” could have been joint actions to safeguard transportation and trade between states. New data show

72. Jacobsen 1957. 73. Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 10–​12. 74. Steible 2015: 161. 75. Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 19–​20; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 297. Such as the fact that the king of Kish allocated lands in Šuruppag:  land was easily bought and sold during this period, and the arable environs around cities were a patchwork of palace, temple, and “private” plots owned by various individuals. See the discussion of land ownership in section 8.7. 76. Deimel 1924: no. 101.

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that diplomatic alliances persisted in the following ED IIIb period and included the exchange of gifts. These networks stretched beyond southern Mesopotamia and included, for example, Pashime on the Persian Gulf.77 In summary, political relationships in southern Mesopotamia during the ED I–​IIIa periods were dynamic and unstable. While more space in the north gave Kiš a free hand to raid its neighbors, the proximity of southern city states along the natural and man-​made waterways of the Tigris and Euphrates required close cooperation. However, these “alliances” were equally unstable. The next section illustrates that friendship easily turned to enmity where economic interests were concerned.

8.4.  External politics in ED IIIb: Mesopotamia and Iran Three characteristics defined the external politics of ED IIIb Sumerian city states. First, local conflicts transformed into a nonstop war between major regional powers by the end of the period (cf. section 8.5 for the same phenomenon in Syria). Second, several rulers accumulated enough resources to execute far-​reaching military expeditions, the aims of which are disputed. Finally, the idea of the unification of southern Mesopotamia took definite shape. Leaders of Uruk, Ur, and Umma made the first unsuccessful attempts of this kind. These misfires heated the political climate to boiling point. Sargon of Akkad took advantage of this situation to conquer Sumer and establish the first genuinely territorial state in Mesopotamian history. To begin with the first point: the Lagaš-​Umma border conflict is the textbook case of a local war between Sumerian city states.78 All sources that document it—​including stone slabs, the very fragmentary Stele of the Vultures, vases, tablets, cones, discs, and other items—​originated in the Lagaš state. Its rulers put much effort into communicating their

77. Bartash 2020. 78. Cooper 1983.

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perspective on this centuries-​long feud. A  contested cultivated area called Gu’edena (literally “The Edge of the Plains”) was the cause of discord between Lagaš and Umma. As the Lagašites argue, Mesilim, a powerful king in ED II/​IIIa Kiš, demarcated a border between the Lagaš and Umma states in that field. This means that the conflict was already active by then. Umma is portrayed as infringing on this pact, an invader who was justly punished for its transgression by the chief deity of Lagaš, the god Ningirsu. Enmetena, the ruler of Lagaš, claims that his uncle Eanatum created a border channel and established a neutral, one-​mile-​ wide border strip of land. He claims that Umma could exploit its portion of the land as a loan in return for a fantastically high interest payment in barley. Failing to comply with the agreement, the Umma state went on the offensive but was defeated.79 In fact, both sides must have been of roughly equal strength, and eventually Umma was victorious. This, however, happened in a different political atmosphere. By the end of the ED IIIb period, Umma had become part of a proto-​territorial formation created by the Uruk king Enšakušanna. The Umma ruler Lugalzagesi then inherited this polity. Lagaš suffered several grave defeats and lost its major city, Lagaš, and eventually its capital, Girsu, under Erekagina (whose name is also read as Urukagina or Uru’inimgina).80 The re-​evaluation of the written data from the Lagaš state following recently published data from the ED period Umma and Adab states allows us to estimate the duration of the ED IIIb period at approximately 150 years. The additional 25 years of “proto-​imperial period 2” under the reign of Lugalzagesi and before his defeat by Sargon of Akkad may be added to the ED IIIb period. By now, scholars have arrived at a relatively complete reconstruction of the ruling dynasties of Lagaš, Umma, Ur, Uruk, Adab, Kiš, and Mari during the ED IIIa–​b periods, with the names of over a hundred rulers bearing the titles ensi (“city-​state ruler”) and lugal (“lord, king”) currently known.81 The latter title communicated

79. For example, see the cone of Enmetena in Frayne 2008: 194–​199. 80. See Schrakamp 2015 for a detailed discussion. 81. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 67–​84; Marchesi 2015; Pomponio 2015.

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broader political authority and often a claim to regional hegemony. Steinkeller has argued that the notion of “lugalship” came to Sumer from Kiš and reflected a more authoritarian style of rule in comparison with the local Sumerian office of ensi, “city-​state ruler.”82 Sometimes it seems that the adoption of the title lugal by some ensis was a bluff. The last ruler of Lagaš, Erekagina, changed his title from “lugal of Lagaš” to “lugal of Girsu” after he lost Lagaš. The title “ensi of Girsu” would have better represented the actual state of affairs. On the other hand, some rulers of Umma adopted the title “lugal of Umma,” while their Lagaš peers referred to them as “ensis of Geša.” This both emphasized that the seat of power was at Geša (thought to be the original name of Tell Jokha) and refuted the claim that Umma was superior to any other Sumerian city state. Conflicts surpassed the local scale during the ED IIIb period. Several strong city states evolved in northern Mesopotamia and western Iran. They regarded southern Mesopotamia as a place of good spoils. The early ED IIIb Lagaš ruler Eanatum is known for his military exploits against them. He claimed to have defeated the armies of Subir (in the Transtigridian region) and the Iranian polities of Elam and Arawa.83 Despite the victorious tone of his records, it seems that he was eventually cornered by a strong coalition of foreign foes. The decisive battle took place in the environs of Girsu.84 Besides beating Umma in the Gu’edena War and “subjugating” and “destroying” the three lands, as mentioned previously, Eanatum also “conquered” other Iranian (Uru’az and Mišime) and local (Ur and Uruk) city states and destroyed a coalition of central Mesopotamian cities consisting of Akšak, Kiš, and Mari. As the apotheosis of these achievements, the goddess Inana “gave” him the “lugal-​ship” of Kiš in addition to the ensi-​ship of Lagaš,85 which, 82. Steinkeller 2013: 146; 2017: 35–​36. 83. Michalowski 1986; Steinkeller 1998; Bartash 2018b; Frayne 2008 E.1.09.03.01, 05, and 07a. 84. See Steinkeller 2018: 180–​181 on the relationships between the Lagaš state and Iran during the ED period. 85. Frayne 2008 E 1.09.03.05.

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however, does not mean that Eanatum necessarily controlled that polity. On the basis of these astonishing military achievements, scholars ascribe a long reign to him.86 Considering the language of Eanatum’s inscriptions—​ all the “destroying,” “subjugating,” and “piles” of enemy corpses that “reached the base of heaven,” not to mention Eanatum’s own height (over 2.5 m)—​ these claims may have been exaggerated. Why the Lagaš state clashed with so many powerful enemies during his reign also remains an enigma. The frequent references to people from the Iranian polities of Elam, Arawa, Uru’az, and Mišime/Pašime in ED IIIa–​b Sumerian sources illustrate vibrant relationships between southern Sumer, western Iran, and the Persian Gulf. A  recently published text from Adab alludes to a diplomatic network of Sumerian (Adab, Ur, Lagaš, Umma, etc.) and Iranian (Pašime) cities during the reign of Eanatum’s father Ayakurgal (ca. 2450 bc).87 A recension of the Sumerian King List from the early second millennium bc (Old Babylonian period) mentions conflicts between Kiš and Ur on the one hand and Awan on the other. The latter was an Iranian polity that Potts tentatively localized in Luristan.88 Steinkeller placed Awan in southeastern Khuzestan (and, broadly, also in Fars) and suggested that this was the native name of “Elam,” the latter being a Sumerian toponym. He believed that the Awan kingdom was already in existence by the ED period. However, no historical data on Awan are available before the time of its ruler Puzur-​Inšušinak (late twenty-​second century bc).89 Returning to Sumer, the nexus of Ur and Uruk laid the foundation for the first territorial state in southern Mesopotamia. Beginning with the reign of Meskalamdug (early ED IIIb), a single ruler often governed both states. Beginning in the Late Uruk period, it was traditional for “kings” (lugal) to rule over the Ur polity while an en, the “priest-​king,”

86. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 68. 87. Westenholz 2014: no. 69; Bartash 2020. 88. Potts 2015: 90–​91. 89. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 23; Steinkeller 2018: 181, 184, 191.

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governed Uruk.90 Enšakušanna’s royal titles (late ED IIIb) show that the political concepts “En of Uruk and lord of Ur” evolved into a previously unimaginable “en of Sumer and lord of the land.” Enšakušanna claims to have defeated Kiš and Akšak and dedicated the booty to the god Enlil at Nippur. These activities follow the pattern of the hegemonic policy of the Lagaš rulers. Nevertheless, Enšakušanna may be regarded as the harbinger of the unification of southern Mesopotamia. Marchesi has postulated a “proto-​imperial period” that included the times of Enšakušanna and Lugalzagesi and the reign of Sargon of Akkad before his unification of southern Mesopotamia.91 Lugalzagesi began as the ruler (ensi) of Umma and soon captured the city of Lagaš, the major urban center of the rival state. References to the rulers and high priests of Uruk, Adab, and Nippur in his documents allow scholars to surmise that these polities were under Lugalzagesi’s control. He called himself “king (lugal) of Uruk,” which means that he succeeded Enšakušanna. Lugalzagesi subdued the city state of Adab and enjoyed the temporary loyalty of its ruler, Meskigala. The signal achievement of Lugalzagesi’s rule was his decisive defeat of the city state of Lagaš under its last ruler, Erekagina.92 Having consolidated the principal Sumerian city states under his direct or indirect control, Lugalzagesi’s success was short-​lived. Worn out by continuous wars, he could not withstand the onslaught of Sargon of Akkad, around 2300 bc.

8.5.  Working out hegemony in EJ III Syria The Palace G archives of Ebla (mod. Tell Mardikh) in Syria cover about forty years (2350–​2310): the final five years of king Irkabdamu and his vizier Arrukum and thirty-​five years of Išardamu and his viziers Ibrium

90. Steinkeller 2017: 26. 91. Marchesi 2015: 140, 147. 92. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 86–​92; Marchesi 2015: 143 table 1.2, 147–​148; Pomponio 2015: 192.

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and Ibbizikir. These sources provide data concerning the historical events surrounding their predecessor, king Igrišhalab. The Ebla archives offer a more detailed account of relations between the ancient states in what is today Syria and northern and central Iraq than any other text corpus. The geographical range described by the documents from Ebla is impressive, extending from the Mediterranean coast to Harran and Nagar in northern Syria; Gasur, Assur, and Erbil in what would later become the Assyrian heartland of Northern Iraq; Tukriš in Iranian Kurdistan; Hamazi in the Transdigridian region; and Kiš in northern Babylonia. The major political powers in Syria proper by the end of EJ III were Ebla, Mari (Tell Hariri) and its dependent city Tuttul (Tell Bi’a), Abarsal (Tell Chuera?), and Nagar (Tell Brak) with the second-​level city of Nabada (Tell Beydar).93 Textual and archaeological data alike demonstrate that the kingdoms of Ebla, Mari, and Nagar had surpassed city-​state status during this period. The events of the last forty years of the EJ III in Syria are contemporary with the conflict-​rich “proto-​imperial” period in Sumer. Although the Syrian arena is viewed essentially through the eyes of the Eblaite court, the Ebla archives offer the most historically rich corpus in the entire ED Near East. In contrast to southern Mesopotamia, for which flamboyant royal inscriptions are the principal sources, the Ebla archives routinely recorded historical events in administrative documents. In addition, Ebla provides the earliest documentation of diplomatic activity in the form of treaties and letters to other states. The struggle for hegemony between Ebla and Mari in Syria reflects one general trend during the late EJ III period. Wars, treaties, diplomatic visits, gifts, and dynastic marriages were vehicles of international politics between these polities and their dependent states. The treaties and letters in the Ebla archives identify the background of these endless wars: the control of trade routes and the broadening of the network of tributary

93. See Archi 2015a: 6–​12; 2015b; Archi and Biga 2003; Biga 2015; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 96–​104 for historical overviews of these data and the recent scholarship on synchronisms between Ebla, Mari, and Babylonia.

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city states. An insatiable quest for wealth and centralized power on the part of the ruling class became history’s driving force. Another trend throughout the Near East was the rise of geopolitics as the sine qua non of the late ED III. A common strategy was to oppose immediate neighbors and forge alliances with more distant ones. The political constellations “Ur + Mari vs Kiš” in the early ED IIIb period and “Ebla + Kiš vs Mari” in the late ED IIIb period show that allied polities preferred to keep a distance—​there cannot be two “alphas” in one room—​and to encircle a common adversary from the flanks.94 King Iblulil of Mari defeated the polity of Abarsal (Tell Chuera?) and raided along the Euphrates during the last years of the Eblaite king Igrišhalab. Ebla did not venture to confront Mari and was obliged to pay an immense tribute in precious metal: more than a ton of silver and over sixty kilograms of gold. These deliveries are euphemistically referred to as “gifts” in the Ebla archives and more accurately as “tribute” in those of Mari.95 The next king of Ebla, Irkabdamu, forced the unequal Treaty of Abarsal on the weakened polity. It provided Ebla with control over river trade on the Euphrates. Abarsal was only allowed to use Eblaite ferry boats and was obliged to pay a massive tribute in silver. Another clause restricted access by Abarsal’s representatives to specific areas, a sign of the demarcation between zones of influence. Despite the treaty, conflict between Ebla and Abarsal persisted and eventually ended with the latter’s destruction.96 Subsequently, Harran, 45 km to the northwest of Tell Chuera, became one of Ebla’s most valued allies. Princess Zugalum became Harran’s queen, and their inter-​dynastic marriage sealed their truce. The Eblaite royal family repeatedly married off their females to cement diplomatic relationships with larger and smaller kingdoms throughout the Near East, including Kiš, Nagar, Emar, and Dulu. The last king of Ebla, Išardamu, was only a small child when he ascended the throne. His vizier Ibrium consolidated Eblaite power in

94. Archi 2015b: 6–​7. 95. Archi 2015b: 7. 96. Archi 2015a: 171–​172.

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Syria during Mari’s decline. Ibrium engineered and led numerous local and midrange wars. Mari took the offensive during the third year of Išardamu/​Ibrium, but both states sealed a truce. Mari representatives delivered an oath in the temple of the god Kura at Ebla. The kingdom of Nagar (Tell Brak) in the Khabur region, which encompassed eighteen smaller cities including Nabada (Tell Beydar), was one of the major players on the Syrian international scene. Facing a common threat from (and sometimes experiencing submission to) Mari, Nagar and Ebla established a truce. Using this alliance, Ebla looked for allies even farther to the east, illustrated by the “Letter to Hamazi,” an influential city state in the Trans-​Tigris region. However, Mari defeated Nagar twice during Ibrium’s tenure. The intensification of Mari’s policy of expansion had a particular cause: its alliance with Enšakušanna of Uruk helped Mari to repeatedly vanquish Kiš (in Ibrium’s years 3, 10, 12). These events were followed by a period of friendly relations with Ebla. Delegations were exchanged yearly, as were identical gifts. Ebla used this temporary respite to expand its regional hegemony. Vizier Ibrium fought continuous wars in the north and against the semi-​nomadic confederation of Ibal. Eventually, Ebla consolidated more than twenty city states under its authority. Heading a broad coalition, Ebla defeated Mari at Terqa and captured its king in the thirteenth year of Ibbizikir. However, Ebla did not dare to besiege Mari and instead arranged dynastic marriages with the Nagar and Kiš dynasties. Documents from the final years of Ebla record gifts to “the king of Kiš,” probably Sargon of Akkad, and his father and brother.97 Ebla concentrated too much on strengthening itself against Mari by securing the support of the recovered Kiš, the nucleus of the future Old Akkadian state. According to one interpretation, Mari recuperated and destroyed Ebla in 2310. Mari’s success was short-​lived, however, and Sargon destroyed it in 2295 bc. Previously, the obliteration of both Ebla and Mari were attributed to him. In summary, the Syrian political landscape during the late EJ III period was defined by continuous warfare. This trend exactly parallels 97. Archi 2015a: 9–​12; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 97–​98.

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the situation in southern Mesopotamia. In addition, during the final decades of the ED (and for the first time in history), the entire Near East became “globalized,” with the result that a change in one region immediately led to a response across this world system. Ebla was constantly at war; not a single year was peaceful.98 The population must have suffered gravely from this unrelenting bloodshed. No one counted civilian casualties, but the death toll of Ebla troops that was routinely recorded is quite impressive. For example, 3,620 men were killed in action as the result of the conquest of Darašum, and a further 3,200 fell in battle with the Ibal confederation. As many as 20,309 died in the war against Bahunatum and Agagališ during vizier Ibbizikir’s first year. Archi has estimated that Ebla lost at least 4,000 men yearly. This adds up to at least 140,000 dead Eblaite troops during the period covered by the archives.99 This havoc must have drained the Syrian urban and rural population of its adult males on a regular basis. Wars took place on various scales: (a) squabbles between neighboring city-​states, (b) punitive actions by a regional power to maintain its hegemony, and (c)  clashes between regional powers. This complicated web of warfare laid the foundation for the Sargonic state. The conquests of Sargon and Naram-Sin seem less revolutionary because the Syrian wars of the late EJ III period presuppose a well-​established war logistic system throughout the region, a “roadmap” for Sargon and his successors to rely upon. In addition, the Ebla archives illustrate that classified intelligence delivered by messengers was as valuable as military power. On the other hand, diplomacy in the form of treaties; mutual delegations; and political-​religious activities such as temple donations, exchange of symbolic gifts,100 and dynastic marriages formed a repertoire of nonviolent mechanisms in foreign affairs. These, however, were neither able nor intended to prevent war.

98. Biga 2015. 99. Archi 2015a: 283–​290. 100. A set of clothing for the ruler and a piece of jewelry plus several sets of clothes for the “elders” (Archi 2015a: 22).

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8.6.  The political organization of southern Mesopotamia States rose up like mushrooms after the rain throughout the Near East during the ED period, even in places where this form of political organization was previously unattested. It is important, however, to define the ED period state. In organization, scope, and impact, it took a different form than the modern state or the Old Akkadian, Ur III, and all subsequent states in the Near East. According to Henry Wright, the multileveled hierarchy of settlements suggests that a corresponding level of control already existed during the Middle Uruk period in Greater Mesopotamia, Iran, and Syria. This is the marker of a state’s emergence.101 For Marc Van de Mieroop, the state is a complex sociopolitical organization beyond the communal level.102 Norman Yoffee has defined the state as a legitimate government acting through a structure of authority to settle disputes among various societal groups. It has a territory under its control and undertakes its defense and expansion.103 Marcella Frangipane expressed a similar view of the state as a mediator: “Mesopotamia’s structured and complex social stratification enabled all the competing members of society to grow, gradually leaving the state with the more political role of mediating between different interests, in which the central institutions and the families representing them were a powerful party.”104 Seth Richardson argued that early Mesopotamian states were weak and could control only a portion of the population and surrounding territory; they were “more aspirational than operational in their geographic, legal and communitarian sovereignty.”105 Yoffee postulated that fragility and inevitable

101. Wright 2006: 307. 102. Van de Mieroop 2014: 18. 103. Yoffee 2005: 17. 104. Frangipane 2018 n. 1. 105. Richardson 2012: 4.

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collapse are two other fundamental characteristics of the earliest state.106 As defined by the anthropologist David Graeber, early states are systems of institutionalized extortion of labor.107 Steinkeller demonstrated that labor shortage was endemic in early polities, and that corvée labor, the temporary labor obligations of freemen in agriculture, construction, and irrigation, was the economic foundation of early Near Eastern states.108 Traditionally, the origins of the state were associated with the temple in southern Mesopotamia and the palace in northern Mesopotamia, including Syria. The en, “priest-​king,” who enjoyed a special relationship with the Venus goddess Inana, may have stood at the pinnacle of the Late Uruk state. In contrast, dignitaries called ensi governed ED Sumerian city states. As “stewards,” they were the earthly managers of urban communities portrayed as the domains of the gods. Ensis legitimized their authority by claiming kinship relationships with gods and presenting themselves as the “chosen ones.” Divine will selected them from the totality of the able-​bodied males of that city.109 State leaders appear under three designations in Sumerian ED sources:  en, ensi, and lugal. The first is ubiquitously, and incorrectly, translated as “lord” and compared with the Akkadian belum. However, no such lexical correspondence antedates the Middle Babylonian period. Piotr Steinkeller linked en with ensi and described the latter as the en of “grain, barley,” that is, an official in charge of grain production.110 The final term for the ruler is lugal, “king.” This word is a composite of lu, “man,” and “gal,” which often leads to a misinterpretation of the word’s semantics. In fact, lugal, rather than en, is both semantically and pragmatically “lord, master, owner” in Sumerian. For example, the master of a slave or of a household is called lugal in Sumerian records. Thus, the meaning “king” from lugal, “master,” was a secondary development.

106. Yoffee 2005. 107. Graeber 2004: 58. 108. Steinkeller 2015: 138b. 109. Steinkeller 2017: 28–​29, 108. 110. Steinkeller 2017: 106.

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Traditionally, the power of the lugal is believed to have been broader than that of the ensi. Rulers of Kiš and Ur regularly, but not always, took this title during the ED period. Notably, lugal often appears as an element in personal names, which is never the case with ensi.111 This suggests an important ideological function of the former and a corresponding lack thereof in the latter. The origins of the statuses ensi and lugal are obscure from historical and archaeological perspectives alike. First, both titles appear in ED I–​II documentation without any parallels in the preceding Jemdet Nasr sources. Second, what is a ruler without a palace? Herein lies the problem. Whereas the earliest temple in southern Mesopotamia dates to the Ubaid period (Eridu), palaces, that is, buildings with clearly identifiable throne rooms, are not documented before the ED II/​IIIa period. Such buildings have been identified at Kiš, Uruk (the unfinished “Stampflehmgebäude”), Eridu, and perhaps Tell Abu Salabikh.112 Elizabeth Stone observed that the main temple and the palace were situated on opposite sides of late ED Sumerian cities, thus implying a separation of religious and secular authorities.113 ED I–​II texts hint at the existence of a palace or, more neutrally put, “big house” (e-​gal) at Ur.114 In contrast to the late ED period,115 no king appears in these sources. Instead, they feature ensis of Ur and other Sumerian cities, including Kiš. ED period ensis had many roles, including being head of the military, coordinator of irrigation, and leader of the construction and renovation of monumental buildings (temples, palaces, walls, main storages, granaries, and the like). The ensi also functioned as supreme judge, especially in cases of capital punishment.116 Severe

111. Krebernik 2002; Andersson 2012. 112. Matthews and Matthews 2017. 113. Stone 2013. 114. Sallaberger 2005; 2010; Charvat 2016:  234–​ 255; Lecompte 2013a; 2014: Lecompte and Benati 2017. 115. Visicato and Westenholz 2005. 116. Wilcke 2003: 35–​36, Bartash 2017: no. 7.

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indebtedness and deep social crises allowed some rulers to proclaim debt clearances (amargi) and “reforms,” such as those of Erekagina of Lagaš. The ED I–​II archive from Ur was primarily concerned, however, with the management of Nanna’s temple. As was the case elsewhere in southern Mesopotamia at this time, temple manors were managed by a dignitary called the sagga. In particular, some texts refer to “fields of the en,” temple domains attested in both the Jemdet Nasr and late ED periods.117 This system of an ensi as the palace-​based ruler and a sagga at the helm of the temples is characteristic of the later ED southern Mesopotamian city states. The identity of the earliest “big houses” (e-​gal) with palace is not self-​evident. The “house of the king” in ED IIIa-​b Šuruppag and Zabalam requires explanation in this regard.118 The term “house of the king” also appeared farther north, at ED IIIb Mari. Charpin tentatively suggested that this palatial complex was called “big house,” with sections for the “house of the king” and “house of the gods.”119 This is archaeologically well-​documented, for example, at Ešnunna, where the Northern Palace and the Abu temple stand within the same enclosure.120 Sumerian palaces and, likely, private houses had “women’s quarters” reserved for both women and underage children.121 Written evidence suggests close collaboration between the palace and temple, their elites, and their organization. Recent analysis illustrates that some rulers (ensi) at ED IIIb Umma and Lagaš had previously been administrators (sagga) of strategic temples. For example, Ila held the title of sagga of the Inana temple at Zabalam before becoming the ruler of Umma. Similarly, the Lagaš ensi Enentarzi acted as the sagga of the temple of Ningirsu, the patron deity of Girsu.122 A re-​evaluation of 117. Friberg 1997–​1998; Benati and Lecompte 2016: 22–​24. 118. Bartash 2013: 27; Notizia and Visicato 2016: 63. 119. Charpin 2012. 120. Ur 2012: 543. 121. Bartash 2014. 122. Monaco 2015.

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palace-​temple relations in ED IIIb Girsu allowed Schrakamp to argue that temples maintained a strictly subordinate relationship to palatial centers.123 This conclusion challenges the traditionally accepted sociopolitical and economic dichotomy of palace and temple in the ED period. It should be kept in mind, however, that the situation in ED IIIb Girsu under its last ruler Erekagina may have been anomalous. Facing a constant onslaught from Umma, the state was on the verge of collapse. In addition, one of the main temples in the city (Emunus, the “House of the Woman,” the temple of the goddess Bawa), was de facto the private domain of the queen. But whether this model is also viable for earlier periods is a big question. Using an approximately 150-​year-​older archive, Visicato reconstructed the household and power hierarchy at Šuruppag (ED IIIa), where the ensi wielded the principal authority. Three “houses” play first fiddle in the archives: the “Big House” (i.e., the palace), the “House of the Lass,” and the “City(-​House).”124 The “House of the Lass” was a major grain production center with a close relationship to the ruler. Many administrative offices center on the “Big House.” Most artisans appear to have belonged to the “City.” The ensi managed foreign relations and trade from the “Big House,” while the “City” managed local affairs.125 Considering the pattern in the naming of Sumerian temples such as “The House of the Woman” and their role as grain producers, the “House of the Lass” may have been the temple of the goddess Sud, the patron deity of Šuruppag.126 Viewed this way, the Šuruppag archives offer a picture reminiscent of the early Sumerian tripartite model elaborated by I. M. Diakonoff, with the temple and the urban community functioning as its main pillars.127 Curiously, the “City” never plays a comparably important role in the official documentation of the late ED period.

123. Schrakamp 2013a. See critique in Selz 2014a. 124. Visicato 1995: 138. 125. Martin et al. 2001: 121. 126. Aage Westenholz, personal communication (2014). 127. Diakonoff 1959; cf. Van de Mieroop 2013 on civic institutions in Sumer.

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“City Elders” (abba-​ere) offer one exception. It is uncertain whether these grandees headed kinship or residential groups or presided in the city’s assembly. The official archives show that they maintained close relationships with both the ruling family and the temple elites. Dozens of wives of Elders participated in the funeral of queen Baranamtara in ED IIIb Girsu.128 City Elders often appear as recipients of temple land and, in other economic situations, function alongside artisanal and temple elites.129 Records from ED IIIa Šuruppag were dated not by a ruler’s regnal year as in the ED IIIb period but by the eponym of a prominent citizen. This “republican” trait in the political system of ED IIIa Šuruppag suggests that each ED Sumerian city state had its own political culture, its own system of power distribution. Cumulative evidence suggests the existence of city wards and assemblies of freemen.130 It is often speculated that the sign combination GAL–​UKKIN, which already appears in lexical lists by the Late Uruk period, refers to the head of the assembly. In fact, this sign combination refers to kingal, “labor manager.” Together with heralds, he was responsible for levying corvée labor.131 In sum, all the states in ED southern Mesopotamia were monarchies. However, this is a simplification. New data and methods of analysis, as well as growing research in heterarchy and collective action theory, prompt the evaluation of ED Near Eastern societies within new models.132 As Yoffee has argued, every individual was a nexus of multiple vertical and horizontal hierarchies and embodied a variety of societal roles.133 It seems that ED Sumer was a dynamic mixture of monarchy, oligarchy, and heterarchy in different proportions at certain places and times.

128. Vogel 2013: 423. 129. Bartash 2017: no. 388–​389, 395, 408, 452. 130. Van de Mieroop 2013; Seri 2006. 131. Bartash 2017: no. 159; 2018a: 55. 132. DeMarrais and Earle 2017. 133. Yoffee 2005: 35.

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8.7.  Economy and society in southern Mesopotamia Several theories postulate a close relationship between the distribution of power and the prevailing mode of subsistence in ED Sumer. The influential “temple state theory,” elaborated between the two world wars by Schneider and Deimel, saw ED Sumerian city states as theocracies.134 In their view, temples controlled all means of production, most importantly land, and were the nuclei of power. Approximately eighteen hundred documents from the “House of the Woman,” the temple of the goddess Bawa in late ED IIIb Girsu, provided the data that underpinned this theory. Recently, Schrakamp re-​evaluated this evidence and concluded that temples in the late ED period were organizations responsible for managing the subsistence economy for the population. However, the palace embodied the “state.” It maintained the military, controlled long-​distance trade, and interfered in temple affairs when necessary.135 Two closely related theories define contemporary scholarly discourse on the political and socioeconomic organization of ED southern Mesopotamia: the oikos economy and the patrimonial state. Both emerged under the influence of Max Weber, with further inspiration from Claude Lévi-​Strauss’s model of “house societies” in the latter case. In ancient Greece, the oikos, “house(hold),” was the basic political, economic, and legal unit. It included family, servants, slaves, land, buildings, production tools, and house utensils, and was economically self-​sufficient. It is true that “house,” Sumerian e, and not “family,” was the basic socioeconomic and political unit in third-​millennium Mesopotamia. Gelb distinguished between “private-​ familial” and “private-​individual” households, on the one hand, and “public households” on the other:  palatial, temple, and elite. In his view, the population of familial households served simultaneously as labor or service

134. In the original German, it is actually Tempelstadt, “temple city.” 135. Schrakamp 2013a; cf. the critique of Selz 2014a.

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providers for the “public households,” leaving only villages of shepherds and semi-​nomads beyond the grasp of centralized control. In his words, “a family or an individual who owns its own patrimonial land and household may at the same time possess or have the right of usufruct in public land and household. Another form of overlapping takes place when officials, including rulers, appropriate public land for their own private use so that the public land assigned to them becomes de facto private.”136 By admitting the importance of kinship groups and their land holdings during the ED and even Sargonic periods, Gelb silently accepted the discoveries made by Diakonoff on the existence of kinship holdings in northern Babylonia even during the later Sargonic period.137 Temple households are oikoi, communal organizations modeled as “houses” and concerned with the management of the subsistence economy, most importantly, grain cultivation. This new organizational principle came into play as a response to urbanization and the decline of the rural population. The tributary economy of the Late Uruk period became impossible. A new organization of labor emerged; familial households became dependent on the temple oikoi. Labor was exchanged for a share in communally produced basic goods. In this new system, decisions regarding who received how much were monopolized by the managerial elite of the temples.138 The archives of the ED IIIb temple household of the goddess Bawa (ca. 2350 bc) mention some 700 persons who belonged to different categories depending on the type of services they provided to the oikos. The first included approximately 250 men, divided among forty-​nine occupations, who received sustenance fields plus monthly barley allocations for four or five months a year. The second group included approximately 450 “people of the month,” who

136. Gelb 1979: 5; cf. Brentjes in Zagarell 1986: 420 for the critique of the “public” nature of palace and temple organizations. 137. Diakonoff 1959. 138. Pollock 1999: 117–​120 (with previous literature).

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received barley allocations all year round. They were male manual laborers and women with children, mostly weavers.139 Importantly, although the occupations themselves remained the same, the people who performed them often changed.140 Therefore, it would be an oversimplification to view these people as “tied” to this household. Another obvious factor is that the population of the city could not rely on the temple organizations for all their needs. Comparable evidence of the centralized distribution of collectively produced barley comes from ED IIIa period Šuruppag. Among the approximately two thousand people mentioned in this archive, seventy-​ nine were “sons of the palace” and included officials, physicians, cupbearers, and cooks. A large number of occupations do not match those at ED IIIb Girsu.141 A comparison of these data sets is necessary for a better understanding of the socioeconomic organization and possible evolution of ED oikoi. Nevertheless, the “great” oikoi model has attracted criticism.142 In particular, their alleged self-​sufficiency led the economist Karl Polanyi to deny the existence of markets in the ancient Near East.143 The available evidence, however, proves the existence of local and international markets, vibrant interregional trade, and importantly, the independence of merchants as a professional group from the “great households.” Merchants were essentially private individuals and not “officials” as has often been assumed. Consequently, long-​distance trade was not under any centralized control. On the contrary, palace and temple elites were clients of the merchants, not the other way around.144 Importantly, the Sumerian word for “merchant” and the weight unit “mina” (ca. 500 g) were Semitic loanwords. This may suggest the 139. Prentice 2010; Sallaberger and Pruß 2015: 76–​79. 140. Prentice 2010: 90. 141. Pomponio and Visicato 1994: 27–​34. 142. Neumann 2002; Selz 2014a: 241–​242. 143. Van de Mieroop 1999: 115. 144. Foster 1997; Garfinkle 2010.

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origins of weight metrology and the use of weights and balances for the interregional trade of metals during the Late Uruk or the very beginning of the third millennium. The use of standardized weight measures is documented in written records from 2800 bc onward. The purpose of this innovation was to establish the value of goods that played a pivotal role in the economy of the Early Bronze Age: metals, wool, and luxury goods. Merchants and smiths used balance scales and weights. Palaces and temples had weights and officials to operate them. There were several different weight norms, despite the existence of a single “correct” standard based on the practice of weighing metals. The introduction of weight metrology revolutionized the economies of the ED Near East. In southern Mesopotamia, this led to the introduction of metals as a means of exchange and value storage. Copper dominated the ED IIIa period; by the end of the ED IIIb, silver gradually became the leading form of “money” for sales and tax payments.145 The lack of essential resources, in particular of metals, wood, and stone, and the demand for luxury goods gave rise to vibrant intercity and interregional trade in southern Mesopotamia. Most of the written data related to trade come from late ED Lagaš, creating a bias in this respect. Lagaš’s trade partners were Der, on the border of the Zagros Mountains; Elam; Uru’az (another Iranian polity); and Dilmun, the name of which likely referred specifically to Tarut Island near Bahrain during this period. Lagaš imported copper, wooden objects, exotic cattle and equids, slaves, linen cloth, and luxurious vessels. It exported aromatic substances, grain, and wool. Merchants in the Girsu archives with Elamite names attest to close collaboration between Sumerian and Iranian trading networks.146 Trade routes leading in other directions undoubtedly existed in other Mesopotamian city states. A related Weber-​inspired theory is that of the patrimonial state. Jean-​ Pierre Grégoire defined third-​ millennium Mesopotamian polities as “patrimonial states” with lugal, “lord, king,” as a “patrimonial

145. Bartash 2019. 146. Selz 2014b; Laursen and Steinkeller 2017: 15–​23; Steinkeller 2018: 182–​183.

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sovereign.”147 He and Johannes Renger expanded this model on EJ Syria, where the kingdom of Ebla may be viewed as a pyramidal hierarchy of households.148 Based on an analysis of primarily Syrian data, David Schloen proposed that every ancient Near Eastern society was essentially a nesting doll–​like hierarchy of households: from commoners’ domestic households at the bottom to an all-​encompassing “house” of the ruler at the top of the system. This approach dismisses the evolutionist/​Marxist opposition between “private” and “state.” The fundamental question concerns, of course, the ownership and use of land in early Mesopotamia (the Gelb-​Diakonoff debate).149 Schloen argued that land ownership “was probably not exclusive, because various persons might have different traditional rights over the same property. Evidence for ‘private’ sales of land, therefore, does not prove that the ruler had no control over the disposition of the land, and it does not justify the hypothesis of a ‘free’ sector composed of persons with a separate legal status from that of the members of the great ‘public’ households.”150 Ur further develops this model, which “replaces functionalist models of ancient rational bureaucracy with an indigenously rational model based on the metaphoric extension of the household”; relationships between individuals in familial and “great” households alike were expressed in the language of kinship. In this view, people perceived themselves as “sons of the palace.”151 This attractive household-​based model, however, requires thorough verification against the growing body of ED written data. It is certain that kinship and patrimonialism have been largely neglected in previous scholarship of ED states despite the fact that the early Mesopotamian state might have been essentially the ruler’s “family affair.”152

147. Grégoire 1981: 72; 1999: 223–​225. 148. Grégoire and Renger 1988 149. See Yoffee 1995: 290 (with references). 150. Schloen 2001: 263. 151. Ur 2014. 152. Steinkeller 2017: 38. Selz 2014a: 251: “Family affairs were becoming increasingly state affairs.”

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The final socioeconomic model for ED Mesopotamia was developed by Diakonoff in the middle of the twentieth century. A Marxist, he tried to demonstrate the evolution of landownership as it appears in the oeuvre of Friedrich Engels. Originally, land was possessed (not owned) collectively by small communities organized along kinship or residential ties. Small-​scale agriculture did not necessitate any form of centralized management. Rapid urbanization went hand in hand with the emergence of centralized irrigation management. Temples amassed the land held by the (hypothetical) free peasant communities via (forced) purchases. Eventually, temples transformed into organizations that administered agricultural production and irrigation. Peasants became their clients and labor.153 Documents concerning landholdings (sometimes called “archaic kudurrus,” after a much later type of Mesopotamian monument) from 3000 to 2250 bc are the primary resources for shedding light on this extremely complicated and long-​ running debate.154 The earliest of these documents are barely intelligible. The frequently used term (DIN+SILA3) remains elusive.155 For example, a stone tablet from ca. 3000 bc lists fields that amount to 4,500 ha (for comparison, Central Park in New York City is 340 ha). These fields stood in a relationship to (the temple of ) the deity NinNAGAR.156 The text concludes with a list of commodities: several tons of barley, ten oxen, and ten sheep. All this is marked with the enigmatic sign combination DIN + SILA3. The traditional interpretation “to alienate” is adopted to substantiate the theory that these plots were sold to the temples.157 The price seems to be too low. However, historical parallels document even smaller prices for land

153. Foster 1994:  443 (with previous literature); Renger 1995:  272; Liverani 2006: 16, 24–​25; 2014: 68. 154. Gelb, Steinkeller and Whiting 1989/​91 and critical reviews by Powell 1994 and Foster 1994. 155. Friberg 1997–​1998: 34–​37 156. Steinkeller 2011: 211–​213. 157. Gelb, Steinkeller and Whiting 1989–​1991: 30.

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in other agricultural societies, where labor was much more valuable than land.158 Steinkeller has regarded DIN+SILA3 as a technical term that describes a type of landholding, “temple domain” or the like.159 Three types of “institutional” landholdings are documented in the text corpus (3100–​2200 bc), alluding to the stability of the tenure system: (1) plots managed directly by the palace and the temples using their dependent labor (“en’s fields”); (2) temple land held by freemen in return for services (“subsistence fields”); and (3) land rented by freemen using silver, or a portion of the yield, for rent payments.160 This essentially state-​centered tenure system needs to be reconciled with the evidence from numerous ED IIIa–​Early Sargonic land sale texts that record a single buyer and numerous sellers. In many cases, the price was divided into three “sub-​prices”: the price proper, an additional price, and a “gift.”161 This data set has allowed Diakonoff and others to assume the existence of “private” land in the hands of kinship units, at least during the ED and early part of the Sargonic periods.162 Other scholars do not believe such sales contradict the hierarchical model of landholding with the state at the top. As Steinkeller put it, “more than one property right is always attached to a given piece of real estate.” He also drew attention to possible “south-​north” differences in landholding.163 As well as membership in a household and a corresponding relationship to land, other patterns of social structuration are visible in the emic terminology of cuneiform records. These include kinship, professional affiliation, age, gender, patron-​client relationships, and class. Many individuals in ED Sumerian administrative and legal records are identified by their occupation: managerial personnel of palace and

158. Foster 1994: 444; Powell 1994: 102. 159. Steinkeller 2011: 217–​218. 160. Cripps 2007: 20. 161. Wilcke 1996. 162. Cripps 2007: 21 (with further references). 163. Steinkeller 1999.

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temple households, priests,164 peasants, merchants, and especially, an impressive number of specialized craftsmen. Equally, a person is normally identified as dumu, “son/​daughter; offspring,” of a male person in all kinds of records.165 Kinship remains one of the least studied subjects for early Mesopotamia. Most kinship terms are documented in second-​millennium literary and lexical compositions. Available studies identify Sumerian and Akkadian kinship terminologies as similar to the Sudanese type, which presumes a distinct descriptive term for each kinship slot.166 For example, the word for paternal uncle (“father’s brother”) is different than that for maternal uncle (“mother’s brother”). The former is pabilga, “father’s elder brother” and, possibly, “father’s father.” In contrast to later periods, pabilga often appears in personal names. The most obvious example is the name of the famous en of Uruk, Gilgamesh, which is actually Pabilgames, “Father’s elder brother is a hero.”167 There are clear indications that the original Sumerian kinship system underwent radical transformation under the influence of the Semitic kinship system in the ED period.168 There are also traces of the Hawaiian kinship type. In addition, the same word possibly identified both children and grandchildren.169 ED data demonstrate the presence of clans (imru’a) and lineages (lu-​su’a, “people of the (same) flesh”).170 The anthropologist Maurice Godelier demonstrated that kinship is one expression of the dominant political-​religious order in a given society,171 which makes the customary “kin-​based vs. state-​based” model in the

164. Westenholz 2013. 165. Bartash 2018c. 166. Wilcke 1985; Götzelt 1995; Streck 2016. 167. George 2003: 71–​74. 168. Selz 2004: 38–​39; 2014a: 244–​246. 169. Civil 1975: 142; Michalowski 2013: 297–​298. 170. Selz 2014a: 264–​265; Emelianov 2018. 171. Godelier 2011.

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analysis of early complex societies pointless, since kinship is present in every society but is never its sole basis. Age groups appear in the context of gendered labor in ED IIIb documents. ED IIIb Girsu allocations of barley to temple personnel record an almost Dickensian class of dependent women and their underage offspring, as well as orphans. These people worked in temple households, as textile producers, millers, swineherders, and brewers of beer, in exchange for bread and board. This class also included widows, slaves, and foreign prisoners of war.172 Ancient scribes summarized these individuals not in terms of their kinship ties, as they would have done for the members of the freemen class, but in terms of age and gender. Notably, they employed terminology that closely resembled that used for domesticated animals and can be traced back to the Late Uruk period.173 This phenomenon alludes to the formation of a class of persons without households or means of subsistence. The “great households” became their only aegis, and these profited by exploiting this source of cheap labor. This was essential in production of textiles, one of the major exports. Female textile workers, their female overseers, and other female personnel within central households have been the focus of recent scholarship.174 As early as the ED I–​II period, texts from Ur document another way to define humans: “the man of (personal name).”175 Although no studies have been conducted in this area, the present author’s impression, based on ED archives, is that this terminology represents patron-​client relationships. In addition, individuals could be “men of the ruler,” the “king,” and the “house(hold).” This group may be described as retainers and subordinates. It seems that this method of social organization cuts across legal, occupational, and social classes. Finally, “class” remains one of the most problematic models for the description of ED societies, even though all early civilizations had

172. Gelb 1965; 1973; 1979: 23–​24. 173. Englund 2009; Bartash 2015a; 2018a. 174. Karahashi 2016; 2018; Karahashi and Garcia-​Ventura 2016. 175. Bartash 2018a: 62.

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hierarchical societies. In contrast to other regions, early Mesopotamia does not seem to have had a hereditary nobility; membership in the “upper class” had to be achieved and maintained rather than merely coming by virtue of birth. Generally, class divisions were less distinct in city states than in territorial polities.176 Two combinable approaches are possible in the study of class in the ED period: the interpretation of the emic terminology of written records and the analysis of an individual’s access to power and resources. The native ED terminology in southern Sumer differentiates between two classes:  free citizens and several categories of slaves. The first are called simply lu, “men, persons.” Notably, the term “native child” (dumu-​ gira) denoted manumitted slaves during the Sargonic and Ur III periods and is not a generic term for “freeman.”177 ED texts from Nippur support this; while all people are “sons” of someone, one person is simply identified as a “native son.”178 Slaves were rare in comparison with the free population. Male slaves were called arad/​urdu, which is a borrowing from the Semitic wardum, “slave,” literally “the one who has been taken downhill/​downstream.” Traditional theory supposes that this reflects the practice of importing slaves from abroad. Another interpretation suggests that the word for “male slave” was Sumerian and means “the one born in debt-​slavery.”179 Geme, “lass,” was the term for female slaves. The very same word designated an age-​gender class of female workers in temple households, considered adults by their managers. However, the boundary between adulthood and childhood must have differed in the context of freemen and this class of ancient “proletariat.”180

176. Trigger 2003: 142–​166. 177. Wilcke 2003: 51; Lafont and Westbrook 2003: 197. 178. Westenholz 1975: no. 1 and 11. These texts may, in fact, be Early Sargonic. This nevertheless changes little, since this period is more “ED” than Sargonic in terms of socioeconomic structures. 179. Krecher 1987; Selz 2011. 180. Bartash 2018a: 69–​70; 2018c: 16.

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Both terms for slaves are documented as early as 3000 bce in “ancient kudurrus” concerning landholdings and later at ED I–​II Ur in the context of the Nanna temple.181 Notably, their personal names are Sumerian. Slaves often appear simply as “heads.” They may be further qualified as “male/​female” and “minor heads.”182 Registering a person’s age in Sumerian administrative records is a sign of one’s low social and legal status. House-​born slaves, eme-​tuda, literally “those born in the female quarter,” represented a separate class.183 Slaves were owned by central households and by individuals. Despite the now commonly accepted insignificance of slave labor in early Mesopotamia,184 the “great households” in ED southern Mesopotamia possessed considerable “pools” of slaves, and these were sometimes given as gifts to the elites of other city states.185 Administrative documents from Palace A at ED IIIa Kiš (ca. 2600 bc) reveal the existence of a third legal class of people, at least in northern Babylonia:  lu mašga’en.186 Ebla bilingual vocabularies explain this group as muska’inum, “those who prostrate,” which is identical to the class of muškenum, palace dependents of the Old Babylonian sources.187 This shows the antiquity and persistence of this tripartite social structure in northern Babylonia and its eventual spread to the south. A second approach in the analysis of class is to examine differential access to wealth, resources, and power. This is not as straightforward as an analysis of emic terminology and requires a detailed evaluation of each case. For example, a glance at the records of monthly barley allocations to various categories of temple personnel and dependents at ED

181. Bartash 2018a: 58–​63. 182. Bartash 2018c: 18. 183. Wilcke 2003: 54; Selz 2011; Bartash 2014. 184. Steinkeller 2015a: 6–​9. 185. Bartash 2020. 186. Grégoire 1996 pl. 4, 1928–​16. 187. Krebernik 1983: 43.

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IIIa Šuruppag and ED IIIb Girsu demonstrates profound inequality. Top-​tier officials receive eight times more than female manual workers. Inequality is clearly visible in ED archaeological records, too. The most obvious example is the Royal Cemetery at Ur, which attests to the staggering wealth of the deceased queens of ED Ur, not to mention the bizarre practice of ritually murdering retainers, who were required to follow them to “the other side.”188 The cemetery’s location in the city also trumpeted the prestige and power of the dead royals. In contrast, private households generally buried their dead within the house, an aspect of the kinship and ancestry cult that reinforced the ideology of common belonging.189 The proximity of a private house to a temple may suggest the access to power enjoyed by its inhabitants; a house located very close to the temple may have been the home of the sagga, the administrator of that temple. ED private houses, typically configured with rooms around a courtyard, varied in size. Their prices were high. For example, 22 shekels of silver ( = 3,960 liters of barley) was the mean price of a 40 sq m house in ED IIIb Adab.190 Real estate prices rose during the ED.191 Pollock considered the possibility that the “lower class” lived in reed huts outside of ED urban neighborhoods built of brick.192 A rich household in ED IIIb Adab consisted of a townhouse, 480 gur (115,200 liters) of barley, 300 sheep, two male and three female slaves, two house-​born male slaves, and 20 shekels of silver.193 Note that 188. Marchesi 2004. 189. Laneri 2013. 190. Calculations are based on another ED IIIb Adab document, Bartash 2017: no. 10. Here, 360 liters of barley are worth two shekels of silver. Bartash 2017: no. 3. See Cripps 2007: 66 and 69 for house sales at ED IIIa Šuruppag: An average plot with a house cost 21.45 mina of copper and 9.5 without a house, which is 7.5 and 3.17 shekels silver respectively according to the ED IIIa silver-​copper  rate. 191. Sometimes it was a 100 percent increase. Cf. the above-​mentioned 40 sq m ED IIIb Adab house of 22 shekels of silver with Bartash 2017: no. 470 from ED IIIa Shuruppak, where a house twice as large cost 18 shekels silver excluding gifts. 192. Pollock 1999: 49. 193. Bartash 2017: no. 8.

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the grain belonged to the household and was not allocated by a temple. These data allude to the virtually complete economic independence from the “great institutions” of temple and palace of these households, mirroring Schloen’s findings.194 Not all were as successful as this Adab household. The inscriptions of the rulers Enmetena and Erekagina (especially the “Reforms of Erekagina”) portray the deep social inequality, injustice, and abuse of administrative power in the ED IIIb Lagaš state.195 Of particular interest is the institution of amargi, “liberation,” literally “the coming back to the mother.” This policy of cancellation and abolition was especially concerned with the forgiveness of debts. The indebtedness of a certain portion of the population originated in the practice of temples loaning barley, attested as early as 3000 bc.196 Debt slavery was its natural effect. The reasons for the disintegration of “middle class” households are still to be ascertained. However, it is certain that the growing economic and political influence of the ruling and other elite family households was paralleled by the emergence of classes of royal dependents, with “peasant-​ warriors” on one side and temple-​dependent menials on the other.197

8.8.  State, society, and economy in EJ III Syria The “second urbanization” in northern Mesopotamia, including Syria, from 2600 bc onward resulted in the emergence of numerous city states. Some of these, such as Ebla and Nagar, succeeded in becoming regional powers that extended over hundreds of kilometers by the end of the ED

194. Schloen 2001: 196. 195. See in detail Wilcke 2003: 21–​25 and Schrakamp 2013a: 454–​457. 196. Monaco 2012. 197. See Westbrook and Jasnow 2001 and Hudson and Van de Mieroop 2002 for debt and debt slavery. See Schrakamp 2014 for the RUlugal, the class of royal dependents who were peasants in times of peace and constituted the army of the Lagaš state during wars.

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IIIb period. At the time of king Igrišhalab in the early twenty-​fourth century bc, the Eblaite kingdom stretched from Carchemish to Hamadu (Hama).198 For the kingdom of Nagar, evidence from excavation and remote sensing, as well as the administrative archives of Nabada (Tell Beydar), demonstrates a multi-​tiered hierarchy of settlements around its capital.199 The ED states of northern Mesopotamia (including Syria) were monarchies. Kings and queens were called malkum and maliktum, the usual words for monarchs in the region for millennia.200 The title of the king was written with the Sumerian ideogram EN. As mentioned previously, en was specifically the title of the Uruk “priest-​king.” The model of Syrian monarchy, however, was unrelated to this archaic Sumerian institution. “Kings” (en-​en) in the Ebla archives were patrimonial leaders on various levels: from rulers of large kingdoms, to those of city states, to (possibly) sheiks of semi-​nomadic political formations. Syrian monarchies were hereditary. Twenty-​six kings of Ebla reigned ca. 2700–​2300 bc. An ancestor cult devoted to previous rulers played an important role in ED Sumer, as documented at Girsu and at Ebla, where pilgrimages to the tombs of deceased kings and related ritual activities were part of royal ideology.201 Ebla’s kings delegated most of their administrative and military responsibilities to their viziers. Arrukum, Ibrium, and Ibbizikir (the latter two were father and son) were the de facto state managers during the late EJ III period. Cuneiform documents are dated by their years in office. These dignitaries presided over “lords” (Sumerian lugal-​ lugal = Eblaite baˁlū), of which there were about thirty in the kingdom of Ebla. The viziers, the royal family, the superintendent of smiths, and

198. Archi 2015a: 19. 199. Sallaberger and Ur 2004: esp. 68. 200. Archi 2015a: 164. 201. Selz 2014a: 252; Archi 2015a: 17.

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the high priestess of the god Hadabal constituted the highest social class in the Eblaite kingdom.202 On the most basic level, the kingdom of Ebla consisted of several hundred small settlements,203 administered by governors who appear in written evidence under the Sumerian logogram ugula, “overseer,” and collected grain and cattle for the palace household.204 This demonstrates the tributary nature of the economic relationship between the center and the periphery. Chiefs (Sumerian abba-​abba, “fathers, elders”), about fifty of whom resided at the Ebla court, presided over these local communities. The phrase “the king and the elders” emphasizes the importance of a political alliance with local elites in sustaining the Ebla polity. Apart from participating in decision-​making at the court, these local chiefs also led their people during military campaigns.205 The palace organization of Ebla, literally “treasury,” included, besides the royal couple, about forty “women of the king,” concubines and female relatives alike, and several hundred female servants. Male personnel consisted of about 40 physicians, 14 barbers, about 23 cooks, 30 musicians and singers, 100 valets, several dozen “commissioners,” more than 30 messengers, and up to 260 carpenters and 600 smiths. In addition, from four to seven thousand corvée laborers performed various tasks in the city and its environs for the “treasury” (palace) and the “king’s house.” These laborers were organized into seven to ten troops (iranum) under overseers.206 They, in turn, were subdivided into twenty-​man troops, probably also military units.207 The organization of labor attested in the Ebla archives provides an image of society as seen through the lens of the palace.208 “City gates” were 202. Archi 2015a: 90, 248, 256. 203. Pettinato 1991. 204. Archi 2015a: 19. 205. Archi 2015a: 21. 206. Archi 2015a: 21, 279. 207. Schloen 2001: 279. 208. Archi 2015a: 279.

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social institutions that contrasted with the palace at Ebla. The “gates” principle for recording human resources can also be seen in the Nabada archives. In that case, the “gates” principle is contrasted with the people who are listed by their place of residence.209 “Gates” represented not only city districts but principally territorial units outside the city. They were subdivided into “houses.” For example, the “gate” of the settlement Arulu had 4,580  “houses.”210 These “houses” were basic units of social structuration, according to Schloen.211 In his model, society displayed a pyramidal form composed of hierarchically arranged “houses”: from the “king’s house” on the top, to the “houses” of the viziers and other aristocrats, to the “houses” of urban and rural commoners. On the lower level, a “house” designates the basic economic, residential, and kinship unit. On the middle level, it is the term for “village.” On the higher level, these units belonged to the “houses” (manors) of the aristocracy. The top level in the system was the “house” of the king. This explains why the kings of Ebla had the right to grant vast tracts of land containing entire villages to their entourage. In this model, there is no conflict between the communal possession of land by local rural communities on the one hand and the private ownership of that same land by the aristocracy on the other. This is essentially the same structure but on different levels. Peasants managed the land locally within their kinship and/​or residential communities, while the king oversaw the management and distribution of land among the upper class. Military men composed the class of royal dependents. They were called naše, “people,” in Eblaite and received land and grain “salaries” in return for their military and agricultural services. This is reminiscent of the royal “peasant-​warriors” referred to in the ED IIIb Girsu archives. At Ebla these “people” had their own clients (Sumerian arad, “slave, servant”).212

209. Ismail et al. 1997: 32, 123. 210. Archi 2015a: 279. 211. Schloen 2001: 268–​269, particularly for the case of the ED Ebla. 212. Schloen 2001: 279–​281; Archi 2015a: 281.

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The presence of six hundred smiths at Ebla suggests that the palace was the hub of both production and redistribution. Most documents from Ebla record the delivery and/​or shipment of metal, wool, and products made of them. Palace administrators and the elites of dependent cities, vassals, and allied states were the recipients of metal tools and jewelry. During Ebla’s final nine years of history, the palace’s income was 180 kg gold, 5,000 kg silver, 5,000 kg copper, and 52,000 garments and bolts of cloth.213 In contrast to southern Mesopotamia, where textile mills were maintained by temples, the palace dominated the centralized production of textiles at Ebla. This area of research remains a work in progress. However, written evidence from Ebla on textile producers and mills (’azaru) is notably scant compared to ED southern Mesopotamia.214 Although it was essentially a large household, the palace of Ebla was not self-​sufficient. It depended on supplies of wool from Mari and livestock from elsewhere (e.g., mules from Nagar), among other things. Contrary to Polanyi’s model, local markets were held during religious festivals. These supplied common finished goods, such as clothing, to the populace. Trade by independent merchants was vibrant. The state was their biggest customer and supported their activities through its policy of protecting trade routes.215 Relying on the evidence of large grain storage areas with restricted access, some archaeologists apply a “staple finance” model to the economy of the late ED Syrian states, suggesting they “collect[ed] surplus staples from the population, store[d]‌them, and distribute[d] them to support personnel engaged in elite-​sponsored tasks.”216 The question of whether production was concentrated in some managerial centers, “great households,” is disputed. According to Pfälzner, the society of EJ II and IIIa northern Mesopotamia was composed of individual, self-​ sufficient households, which are identified in archaeological evidence

213. Archi 2015a: 22. 214. Biga 2014. 215. Biga 2002; Archi 2015a: 22. 216. Akkermans and Schwartz 2003: 275.

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as Parzellenhäuser. Members of these households possessed or leased land. They cultivated it, practiced animal husbandry, and even produced handicrafts on a domestic level. This model emphasizes the difference between Syria and contemporary southern Mesopotamia, where temples and palace households played a primary role in production, management, and labor.217 In contrast, Sallaberger and Pruß did not see any fundamental differences between northern and southern Mesopotamia throughout the third millennium bc. Relying on textual and archeological data from Nabada, they argued that production and redistribution in Nabada were administered by five officials, accountable, via an assembly, to the central power in Nagar. The whole population worked within this centralized structure and received barley rations as remuneration.218 Future research needs to address the extent to which Sumerian writing, with its emic terminology and embedded sociopolitical patterns, has influenced our understanding of state and society in EJ Syria.

8.9.  Cultural trends: religion, visual art, and literacy 8.9.1  Religion In contrast to the modern Western division between religious and secular spheres, belief in gods and other supernatural entities and ritual behavior aimed at winning their support were inseparable from politics, economy, and society. The temple was the center of the cult. Inside the temple, a statue, the earthly representation of the deity, was kept and worshipped. The statue was fed, washed, dressed, given presents, etc. Thus, it was taken care of in all the ways a master would require of his servants. Unlike modern Christian churches, access to ED temples was restricted to priests and other elites. At Tutub and Ur, for example, walls encircled temple complexes. In this sense, temples were not communal

217. Pfälzner 2001: 395 and elsewhere. 218. Sallaberger and Pruß 2015.

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but were de facto elite households. Nevertheless, a large number of personal names contained the element e, the word used for other “houses,” demonstrating that people were proud of their temples. All cities had at least one major temple and numerous smaller temples and shrines dedicated to other gods.219 Already in the Late Uruk period, the logograms of cities show that each settlement had its chief deity. Thus, the names of Nippur and Zabalam are written as “Enlil’s Place” and “Inana’s City,” respectively. The ED IIIa God Lists from Šuruppag and Tell Abu Salabikh record the names of hundreds of deities.220 However, it is misleading to speak of a pantheon in ED Mesopotamia.221 The God Lists are the product of the scribal education and are primarily handbooks, comparable to lexical lists for teaching scribes to write the name of any deity they might encounter. In reality, only a small number of gods were worshipped across the region and, sometimes, in Syria. These were the deities of the significant Sumerian cities:  Enki (Eridu), Inana (Uruk and Zabalam), Enlil (Nippur), Utu (Larsa and Sippar), Nanna-​Suen (Ur), and Iškur (Karkara). Most deities were of local significance. For example, most of the personal names mentioning the god Ašgi appear on tablets from the Adab region. The same is true for Nindulum, “the Lady of Dulum,” one of the towns in the ED IIIb Umma state.222 These essentially henotheistic communal cults must have been the historical foundation of religious practice in southern Mesopotamia. What was new in the ED period was the beginning of the merging of gods of individual localities into families. Political and religious alliances provided matrices for these bonds. Selz demonstrated that the construction of the ED Lagaš state via the consolidation of cities and towns within the region went hand in hand with the establishment of kinship

219. Pollock 1999: 186–​187. 220. Alberti 1985; Krebernik 1986; Mander 1986. 221. Pollock 1999: 186. 222. Bartash 2013: 2.

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ties between their respective deities.223 Each ED city state had its image of divine genealogies and hierarchies. Applying the model of the Sumerian “pantheon” from later periods, especially from the Old Babylonian period, to the ED religious-​ideological landscape is anachronistic. In Syria, the situation was comparable. Each city state had a divine couple—​for example, Hadda and Halabatu at Aleppo or Kura and Barama at Ebla—​and these gods played a vital role in the legitimization of monarchy.224 Other prominent deities in the region were the goddesses Išhara, Ištar, and Šalaša and the gods Dagan and Rašap. Šamagan, the god of gazelles, was worshipped on the Khabur plains. The most frequently attested gods at Ebla are Kura, Hadabal, Rašap, Hadda, and Išhara. Archi has suggested that many Syrian deities (Adamma, Išhara, and Kura) had an autochthonous, pre-​Semitic background.225 In Iran, textual evidence for the worship of deities does not predate the Sargonic period. As in the two previous cases, gods, acting as expressions of communal identity and political regimes, were localized. Hence, Inšušinak and Lagamal were venerated in Susiana, Pinikir and Humban in Awan, Ruhurater in Šimaški, and Napiriša in Anšan. Major southern Mesopotamian gods were also worshipped. They must have been imported during the period of Sargonic dominance over Elam. ED Iranian temples on platforms comparable to those from southern Mesopotamia appear on cylinder seals, although little is known about them from archaeological excavations.226

8.9.2 Visual art Already typical of the preceding Late Uruk and Jemdet Nasr periods, the most common characters appearing in visual art are gods and rulers. Art legitimized the existing sociopolitical order and propagandized new

223. Selz 1995; 2012. 224. Sallaberger 2018a. 225. Pomponio and Xella 1997: 570; Archi 2015a: 656–​686. 226. Quintana 2018.

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ones.227 This was especially true during the period when the power of rulers was increasing, a previously unknown phenomenon. The most obvious examples of this original style of art could be found in the temples and palaces, whose grandeur communicated who was at the pinnacle of society. Royal statuary was another means of achieving this, despite the fact that at the beginning of the ED period, the ruler was largely invisible in art. When he was depicted, he was larger than his entourage, as the Ušumgal Stele (ED I–​II; see figure 8.4) and the Ur-​Nanše Plaque (early ED IIIb) demonstrate. An interesting phenomenon was the installation in temples of statues depicting members of the ruling class in worship, for example in the Abu temple at Ešnunna (see figure 8.5) and the Ištar temple at Mari.228 The power of the Kiš rulers was represented in the violent scenes in Palace A (ED IIIa) and on the Prisoner Plaque (ED I–​II),229 and in the influential depictions at Ebla, where similar scenes were found.230 The innovation of late ED art in Sumer was its use to create historical narratives. The Stele of the Vultures of Eanatum (ca. 2400 bc; see figure 8.6) combines text with “comic book”–​style images of the god Ningirsu and the ruler Eanatum toiling hand in hand to punish the evil oath-​ breakers of Umma. The conformity of the ruler’s action to divine will is its central message.231 Scholars discern here the birth of the ideological process that eventually led to the deification of rulers, beginning with Naram-​Sin around 2230 bc.232 Julia Asher-​Greve has argued that no other period in Mesopotamian history produced such rich and varied material on women as the ED 227. Pollock 1999:  173; cf. Richardson’s (2012) theory of the “presumptive state.” Similarly to royal inscriptions, art was often used not only to document the existing order but to introduce and legitimize it. 228. Marchesi and Marchetti 2011. 229. Steinkeller 2013. 230. See Aruz 2003: 21–​186 on Early Dynastic art. 231. Winter 2009: 3–​51. 232. Selz 1997; Marchesi and Marchetti 2011: 216; Suter 2013: 219–​220; Steinkeller 2017: 123–​126.

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Figure  8.4. Ušumgal Stele. Gypsum alabaster, probably from Tell Jokha (Umma), ca. 2900–​2700 bc. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Accession number 58.29. Photograph courtesy Kim Benzel and Daira Szostak (MMA).

period. Women, mostly royals, priestesses, and palace personnel, often appear on reliefs, cylinder seals, and statuary. This trend is not limited to southern Mesopotamia but is also attested at Mari, Ebla, and Urkesh. ED seals often depict women at work. Otto stressed that third-​millennium bc artistic representations of women are highly individualized, whereas those of the second millennium bc are stylized; however, she did not link this to a shift in the social status of women.233 In Iran at Susa, monumental, elite-​sponsored sculpture; votive figures with their hands clasped in front of their chests placed in temples; and 233. Asher-​Greve 2013; Otto 2016.

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(b)

Figure  8.5. (a) Standing male worshipper from the “Square Temple” in Ešnunna (Tell Asmar), ca. 2900–​2600 bc. Gypsum alabaster, inlaid with shell, black limestone, and bitumen. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Accession number 40.156. (b)  Standing female worshipper from the temple of Inana in Nippur, ca. 2600–​2500 bc. Limestone, inlaid with shell and lapis lazuli. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New  York. Accession number 62.70.2. Photographs courtesy Kim Benzel and Daira Szostak (MMA).

plaques with holes in the middle show clear southern Mesopotamian influence despite the local, often highly naturalistic style of representing humans and animals, as in the case of a statue of a ruler ca. 2500 bc holding a goat.234 Any evaluation of the art of the eastern Iranian “Jiroft

234. Álvarez-​Mon 2018: 604–​610.

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Figure 8.6.  Reconstruction of the Stele of the Vultures, from Girsu (Tello). Louvre, Paris. Museum number AO 16109. Drawing by Elizabeth Simpson. Adapted from Winter 1985: 13, fig. 3 and 16, fig. 8.

Civilization” (centered on the site of Konar Sandal) remains a work in progress while the archaeological exploration of this large-​scale cultural-​ historical phenomenon, which began in 2001, continues. Beautifully carved chlorite vessels are also a common topic of current scholarship.235 Artistic representations on cylinder seals of people, deities, temples, animals, and plants, found throughout the ED Near East, provide an immense corpus of data that cannot be covered here. The reader is advised to consult the extensive work of Porada and Pittman, among others, on this subject.

8.9.3  The role of literacy Excavations at ED IIIa Tell Abu Salabikh (Ereš?) in the 1960s recovered numerous fragments of Sumerian lexical and literary texts.236 This 235. Majidzadeh 2003; Steinkeller 2012; Emami et al. 2017. 236. Biggs 1974; Lambert 1976; Alster 1976.

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discovery confirmed the results of excavations conducted in the early 1900s at Šuruppag: the ED IIIb period witnessed the active use of writing to create literary texts for educational purposes. Experienced scribes recorded oral literature and created new compositions to teach young scribes writing and language. The ED IIIa literary corpus may be subdivided into two groups based on orthography. The first is written using standard Sumerian spelling, also used in contemporary monumental, legal, and administrative texts. The second consists of religious and mythological compositions written in cryptography, “UD.GAL.NUN” orthography. Their interpretation still poses considerable difficulties despite the perseverance of scholars.237 The first, better-​understood group of literary sources may be further subdivided into those that were excluded from the Old Babylonian literary canon and those belles-​lettres that did not survive the ideological “purge” of Sumerian literature during the Ur III period.238 The Instructions of Šuruppag, the Keš Temple Hymn, and the Proverb Collections are documented in ED IIIa tablets and known from Old Babylonian copies. Despite this seemingly unbroken transmission, the compositions exhibit significant shifts in ideology. For example, the original ED IIIa version of the Instructions of Šuruppag is notoriously worldly in comparison to its Old Babylonian successor, as the gods and authorities do not act as punishers of misdemeanors in the early version.239 The Instructions of Šuruppag is a collection of maxims, presented as advice given by a man of Šuruppag to his son (although curiously, the narrator is identified as “father-​in-​law”).240 Most of the maxims are prohibitions, which may have negative consequences if the “son” does not adhere to them. For example, it is better not to build a house on a broad street, guarantee for another person, buy a prostitute, and so on. This

237. Zand 2009. 238. Cooper 2010: 330. 239. Alster 2005: 176–​203; Sallaberger 2018b. 240. Civil 2011: 235 (urum, “father-​in-​law”).

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composition is a unique historical record: the voice and the worldview of an archetypal male of the Sumerian middle class. Critical reading of the text reveals many societal vices:  the sexual abuse of female slaves living in households, the beating of peasants, the consumption of too much beer, etc. The text celebrates the successful bourgeoisie and draws clear borders around both the elites and the lower classes. The palace is a dangerous place, “a mighty river and a goring ox.” Class borders are clear: “To have authority and to acquire riches is the prerogative of the aristocracy.” One is advised to seek the patronage of powerful people. In contrast, “a poor man inflicts curses and diseases on a wealthy man.” Maxims such as “A married man is well-​equipped, but an unmarried man sleeps in a haystack” and betting on the income from the land round out the image of a middle-​aged Sumerian conformist. Many maxims have a moral element, and their injunctions against killing, lying, and stealing (and more) make them the earliest antecedents of the biblical Ten Commandments. Again, the notion of sin and divine or earthly retribution is entirely absent. The aim of the maxims is social equilibrium, not the improvement of the world. ED proverb collections are another testimony of popular wisdom unblemished by elitist ideologies.241 Some proverbs sound like misogynist clichés: “Like your mouth, like your vulva”; “She changes her eyes, she lies five times”; “A girl’s crotch is a dog eating rushes.” Julia Asher-​ Greve has argued that this says nothing about the stance toward women taken by society at large because these platitudes originated in the male milieu of the scribal school and were intended to make the grind of literacy more fun.242 Some ED proverbs offer universal wisdom: “A fool is a fool”; “Two men plow field with two minds”; “Haste is chaff ”; “Wrath destroys a city”; “He who drinks beer is a liar who digs holes; he does not leave the tavern”; “Possessions are good.” Other proverbs cruelly ridicule the pitiful economic and legal status of male and female slaves and their

241. Alster 1991/​2. 242. Asher-​Greve 2013: 368.

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children, reminding us that ED societies were slave-​owning. For example: “A sleeping slave neglects things”; “Come, child of a slave girl, I will feed you”; “The Chief temple administrator is the head of the ‘head’ (slave)”; note here the alliteration in the original text: sang sanga sanga. Incantations are another genre of literary texts. They are documented in Sumer from the ED IIIa period onward and starting from ED IIIb Ebla.243 These short compositions often appear on school tablets, which emphasizes their role in the school curriculum. These concern, quite practically, the treatment of diseases and the prevention of bites from venomous animals, as well as safe childbirth.244 The Keš Temple Hymn celebrates cities and their patron deities and is an early example of the genre of praise hymns (zami).245 Lexical texts were the backbone of scribal education. These monolingual (and at Ebla bilingual) compositions are lists of signs and words. Their arrangement follows acrographic and semantic logic alike: words beginning with the same sign and words of the same semantic field are grouped. Scribal education was very much focused on learning to master these lists. Veldhuis has divided the ED lexical lists into several groups. The compositions attested all over southern Mesopotamia were copies of Late Uruk lexical lists. These covered all aspects of late fourth-​millennium accounting: “occupations” in Lu A; lists of “Vessels and Garments,” of “Metals,” of “Wood,” of “Cattle”; etc. In effect, these texts had little to do with the sociopolitical reality of the ED period; rather they were a testament to the traditionalism of scribes. The second group includes lexical lists created by the scribes of the ED period in two regions. The southern tradition encompasses individual scribal traditions from local city states, most prominently Šuruppag, where the bulk of the evidence comes from. The northern tradition

243. Krebernik 1984; Cunningham 1997: 5–​43; Rudik 2011. 244. Civil and Rubio 1999; Veldhuis 2006; Bartash 2013:  no.  199; George 2016: nos.  1–​3. 245. Biggs 1971.

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centered around the city state of Kiš. Owing to its political dominance over central Mesopotamia, the writing and locally composed lexical lists of Kiš spread to prominent ED IIIa–​b kingdoms further north and west, such as Mari, Ebla, and Nagar.246 For example, the List of Geographical Names mirrors the geographical horizon of the Near East from the perspective of Kiš, while ED Lu E is a list of social statuses and occupations, again from this local viewpoint. Both regional traditions developed Practical Vocabularies, which were essentially scribal handbooks and included all words that were necessary to maintain the accounting of goods in the context of temple and palatial economies. For example, the ED Practical Vocabulary A of the northern tradition has 385 entries covering the following topics: forty-​seven varieties of lapis lazuli and objects made from it, stones and stone objects, statues and figurines, metal containers and implements, textiles, oils, musical instruments, perfumes, beds, vehicles, doors, agricultural tools, equids and harnesses, skins and leather articles, weapons, nets and traps, boats, ropes, reed mats, bitumen, measures and containers, clays and pigments, wool, and so forth.247 The local traditions of the Syrian kingdoms compose the third group of ED lexical lists. Two earlier compilations of traditions acted as the source material, although they were adapted to the local sociopolitical and economic realities and, of course, the Semitic language. The Ebla Sign List was based on the Late Uruk composition Lu A  and offered a syllabic transcription of many Sumerian signs and words. Ešbarkin is another list, which compiled more than fifteen hundred Sumerian words. Notably, the title of this composition means “to make a decision,” which emphasizes its practicality in helping a Semitic-​speaking scribe correctly pick a Sumerian logogram during his working routine.248 Scribal work included considerable calculation and required consistent knowledge in arithmetic, geometry, and metrology, which was based on the sexagesimal (and, during the ED I–​IIIa period, bisexagesimal)

246. Veldhuis 2014a: 60–​142; 2014b. 247. Civil 2008; 2010. 248. Veldhuis 2014a: 129–​138.

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system in southern Mesopotamia and on the local Semitic decimal system in Syria. School tablets from Šuruppag and Ebla provide exercises such as “One granary of barley; seven liters for one man; how many men? Answer:  45.42.51 (decimal 164,571) men, 3 liter remains.” More difficult exercises concerned the calculations of squares of surfaces, the tallying of areas in a series of rectangles, the geometric progressions of areas, etc.249 This knowledge was important in planning the construction of monumental buildings, maintaining irrigation, and measuring houses and plots of land. ED administrative and legal texts document highly developed metrological systems: length, surface, volume, capacity, and weight.250 Weight metrology is of particular interest because it was introduced into script quite late, around 2800 bce, but provided a matrix for the subdivision of the basic units of all metrological systems into sixty parts.251

8.10. In conclusion A continuation of the preceding periods, the Early Dynastic witnessed urbanism on an unparalleled scale in southern Mesopotamia. In contrast, cities emerged for the second time around 2600 bc in Iran and Syria. The state became an important factor in the development of societies across the Near East during the ED period. The evolution of the political system in southern Mesopotamia is evident, as confederations of city states gave way to proto-​territorial polities by the end of the period. In Syria, political events followed a very different trajectory. Its sizable geographical territory allowed several powers to crystallize. The final years of the ED period climaxed in the wars for hegemony, which ultimately led to the founding of the Sargonic state.

249. Friberg 1990: 540; 2007: 147–​154; Robson 2008: 27–​53. 250. Powell 1990; Friberg 2007: 373–​379. 251. Bartash 2019.

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The Near East’s ED period was a time of deepening inequality and social stratification. Access to power, means of production, and wealth depended on multiple factors, notably membership in a household and in “great household” organizations as well as personal connections to the elite. Palaces and temples played the central role in the formation of new layers of the dependent population. In the written and archaeological documentation are found most of the phenomena that would characterize the Near East for the next several millennia: the anatomy of the city, the palace and the temples, the basic layout of domestic architecture, raids and the military, slavery, mechanisms of diplomacy and trade, and economic and political crises. R ef er en c es Adams, R.McC. 2001. Complexity in archaic states. JAA 20: 345–​360. Adams, R.McC. and Nissen, H.J. 1972. The Uruk countryside: the natural setting of urban societies. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Akkermans, P.M.M.G. and Schwartz, G.M. 2003. The archaeology of Syria. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Alberti, A. 1985. A reconstruction of the Abū Salābīkh god-​list. Studi epigrafici e linguistici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 2: 3–​23. Algaze, G. 2018. Entropic cities:  the paradox of urbanism in ancient Mesopotamia. CA 59: 23–​54. Almamori, H.O. 2014a. Gišša (Umm al-​Aqarib), Umma ( Jokha), and Lagaš in the Early Dynastic III period. Al-​R āfidān 35: 1–​37. Almamori, H.O. 2014b. The Early Dynastic monumental buildings at Umm al-​Aqarib. Iraq 76: 149–​187. Alster, B. 1976. On the early Sumerian literary tradition. JCS 28: 109–​126. Alster, B. 1991–​1992. Early Dynastic proverbs and other contributions to the study of literary texts from Abū Şalābīkh. AfO 38/​39: 1–​51. Alster, B. 2005. Wisdom of ancient Sumer. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Álvarez-​ Mon, J. 2018. The sculptural arts of Elam. In Álvarez-​ Mon, J., Basello, G.P. and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 600–​621. Andersson, J. 2012. Kingship in the early Mesopotamian onomasticon 2800–​ 2200 bce. Uppsala: Uppsala University.

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in the third millennium bc. Guilford, CT:  Four Quarters Publishing, 129–​156. Michalowski, P. 2013. Of bears and men. In Vanderhooft, D.S. and Winitzer, A. (eds.), Literature as politics, politics as literature:  essays on the ancient Near East in honor of Peter Machinist. Winona Lake, IN:  Eisenbrauns, 285–​320. Milano, L., Sallaberger, W., Talon, P. and Van Lerberghe, K. (eds.) 2004. Third millennium cuneiform texts from Tell Beydar (seasons 1996–​2002). Turnhout: Brepols. Monaco, S.F. 2011. Early Dynastic mu-​iti cereal texts in the Cornell University cuneiform collections. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Monaco, S.F. 2012. Loan and interest in archaic texts. ZA 102: 165–​178. Monaco, S.F. 2015. More on pre-​Sargonic Umma. In Archi, A. (ed.), Tradition and innovation in the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 161–​166. Neumann, H. 2002. Die sogenannte Oikos-​Ökonomie und das Problem der Privatwirtschaft im ausgehenden 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. in Mesopotamien. In Hausleiter, A., Kerner, S. and Müller-​Neuhof, B. (eds.), Material culture and mental spheres: Rezeption archäologischer Denkrichtungen in der Vorderasiatischen Altertumskunde. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 273–​281. Nissen, H.J. 2015. Die ältere Frühdynastische Zeit als Forschungsproblem. In Dittmann, R. and Selz, G.J. (eds.), It’s a long way to a historiography of the Early Dynastic period(s). Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag,  1–​31. Notizia, P. and G. Visicato. 2016. Early Dynastic and Early Sargonic administrative texts mainly from the Umma region in the Cornell University cuneiform collections. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Otto, A. 2016. Professional women and women at work in Mesopotamia and Syria (3rd and early 2nd millennia bc): the (rare) information from visual images. In Lion, B. and Michel, C. (eds.), The role of women in work and society in the ancient Near East. Berlin: De Gruyter, 112–​148. Pettinato, G. 1991. Ebla: a new look at history. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Pfälzner, P. 2001. Haus und Haushalt: Wohnformen des dritten Jahrtausends vor Christus in Nordmesopotamien. Mainz: Zabern. Pittman, H. 2013. Eastern Iran in the Early Bronze Age. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 304–​324.

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Pollock, S. 1999. Ancient Mesopotamia: the Eden that never was. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pomponio, F. 2015. The rulers of Adab. In Sallaberger, W., and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3:  history & philology. Turnhout:  Brepols, 191–​195. Pomponio, F. and Visicato, G. 1994. Early Dynastic administrative tablets from Šuruppak. Naples: Istituto universitario orientale. Pomponio, F. and Xella, P. 1997. Les dieux d’Ebla. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Porada, E. et  al. 1992. The chronology of Mesopotamia, ca. 7000–​1600 B.C. In Ehrich, R.W. (ed.), Chronologies in Old World archaeology, vol. 1. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 77–​121. Potts, D.T. 2015. The archaeology of Elam: formation and transformation of an ancient Iranian state. 2nd rev. ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Powell, M.A. 1978. Texts from the time of Lugalzagesi: problems and perspectives in their interpretation. HUCA 49: 1–​58. Powell, M.A. 1990. Maße und Gewichte. RlA 7: 457–​517. Powell, M.A. 1994. Elusive Eden: private property at the dawn of history. JCS 46: 99–​104. Prentice, R. 2010. The exchange of goods and services in pre-​Sargonic Lagaš. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Quintana, E. 2018. Elamite religion and ritual. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., Basello, G.P. and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 727–​738. Renger, J. 1995. Institutional, communal, and individual ownership or possession of arable land in ancient Mesopotamia from the end of the fourth to the end of the first millennium bc. Chicago-​Kent Law Review 71: 269–​319. Richardson, S. 2012. Early Mesopotamia: the presumptive state. Past & Present 215: 3–​49. Richter, T. 2004. Die Ausbreitung der Hurriter bis zur altbabylonischen Zeit:  ein kurzer Zwischenbericht. In Meyer, J.-​W. and Sommerfeld, W. (eds.), 2000 v.  Chr.:  politische, wirtschaftliche und kulturelle Entwicklung im Zeichen einer Jahrtausendwende. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag, 263–​311. Robson, E. 2008. Mathematics in ancient Iraq. Princeton, NJ:  Princeton University Press. Rubio, G. 1999. On the alleged “pre-​Sumerian substratum”. JCS 51: 1–​16.

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Rubio, G. 2006. Eblaite, Akkadian, and East Semitic. In Deutscher, G. and Kouwenberg, N.J.C. (eds.), The Akkadian language in its Semitic context. Leuven: Peeters, 110–​139. Rubio, G. 2016. The inventions of Sumerian:  literature and the artifacts of identity. In Ryholt, K. and Barjamovic, G. (eds.), Problems of canonicity and identity formation in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Copenhagen: Carsten Niebuhr Institute, 231–​257. Rudik, N. 2011. Die Entwicklung der keilschriftlichen sumerischen Beschwörungsliteratur von den Anfängen bis zur Ur III-​Zeit. PhD thesis, University of Jena. Sallaberger, W. 2005. Palast, A.I:  Mesopotamien im III. Jahrtausend. RlA 10: 200–​204. Sallaberger, W. 2010. The city and the palace at archaic Ur. In Šašková, K., Pecha, L. and Charvat, P. (eds.), Shepherds of the black-​headed people: the royal office vis-​à-​vis godhead in Mesopotamia. Plzeň: Západočeská univerzita,  31–​38. Sallaberger, W. 2018a. Kura, youthful ruler and martial city-​god of Ebla. In Matthiae, P., Pinnock, F. and D’Andrea, M. (eds.), Ebla and beyond. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 107–​139. Sallaberger, W. 2018b. Updating primeval wisdom:  the Instructions of Šuruppak in its Early Dynastic and Old Babylonian contexts. In Cogan, M. (ed.), In the lands of Sumer and Akkad. Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, vii–​xxviii. Sallaberger, W. and Pruß, A. 2015. Home and work in Early Bronze Age Mesopotamia: “ration lists” and “private houses” at Tell Beydar/​Nabada. In Steinkeller, P. and Hudson, M. (eds.), Labor in the ancient world. Dresden: ISLET-​Verlag, 69–​136. Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.) 2015. Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols. Sallaberger, W. and Ur, J.A. 2004. Tell Beydar/​Nabada in its regional setting. In Milano, L. et al. (ed.), Third millennium cuneiform texts from Tell Beydar (seasons 1996–​2002). Turnhout: Brepols, 51–​71. Schloen, J.D. 2001. The house of the father as fact and symbol: patrimonialism in Ugarit and the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Schrakamp, I. 2013a. Die “Sumerische Tempelstadt” heute: die sozioökonomische Rolle eines Tempels in frühdynastischer Zeit. In Kaniuth, K. et al. (ed.), Tempel im Alten Orient. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 445–​465.

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Schrakamp, I. 2013b. Critical review of Visicato and Westenholz 2010. JCS 65: 201–​228. Schrakamp, I. 2014. Krieger und Bauern:  RU-​lugal und aga3/​aga-​us2 im Militär des altsumerischen Lagaš. In Neumann, H. et al. (ed.), Krieg und Frieden im Alten Orient. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 691–​724. Schrakamp, I. 2015. Urukagina und die Geschichte von Lagaš am Ende der präsargonischer Zeit. In Dittmann, R. and Selz, G.J. (eds.), It’s a long way to a historiography of the Early Dynastic period(s). Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 303–​386. Schrakamp, I. 2016. Warīum, Warûm. RlA 14: 645–​647. Schrakamp, I. 2017. Das Bewässerungssystem des präsargonischen Staates von Lagaš (ca. 2475–​2310 v. Chr.). Habilitationsschrift, Freie Universität Berlin. Selz, G.J. 1992. Enlil und Nippur nach präsargonischen Quellen. In De Jong Ellis, M. (ed.), Nippur at the centennial. Philadelphia:  University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 189–​225. Selz, G.J. 1995. Untersuchungen zur Götterwelt des altsumerischen Stadtstaates von Lagaš. Philadelphia:  University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Selz, G.J. 1997. The holy drum, the spear, and the harp:  towards an understanding of the problems of deification in third millennium Mesopotamia. In Finkel, I.L. and Geller, M.J. (eds.), Sumerian gods and their representations. Groningen: Styx, 167–​213. Selz, G.J. 2003. Who is who? Aka, König von Ĝiš(š)a: zur Historizität eines Königs und seiner möglichen Identität mit Aka, König von Kiš(i). In Selz, G.J. (ed.), Festschrift für Burkhardt Kienast. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 449–​518. Selz, G.J. 2004. Composite beings: of individualization and objectification in third millennium Mesopotamia. Archiv orientálny 72: 33–​53. Selz, G.J. 2011. Zu einer frühdynastischen Bezeichnung von “Unfreien”: Ur(a) du(-​d), eine Bemerkung zum “Hausgeborenen Sklaven”. NABU 2011: 83–​85 (no. 70). Selz, G.J. 2012. Studies in early syncretism: the development of the pantheon in Lagaš. Examples for inner-​Sumerian syncretism. Acta Sumerologica 12: 111–​142. Selz, G.J. 2014a. Aspekte einer Sozialgeschichte der spätfrühdynastischen Zeit: das Beispiel Lagas, oder “The inhabited ghosts of our intellectual ancestors”. In Csabai, Z. (ed.), Studies in economic and social history of the ancient Near East in memory of Péter Vargyas. Budapest: L’Harmattan, 239–​281.

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Selz, G.J. 2014b. Feeding the travelers: on Early Dynastic travel, travel networks and travel provisions in the frame of third millennium Mesopotamia. In Milano, L. (ed.), Paleonutrition and food practices in the ancient Near East. Padova: Sargon, 261–​279. Seri, A. 2006. Local power in Old Babylonian Mesopotamia. London: Equinox. Steible, H. 2015. The geographical horizon of the texts from Fara/​Shuruppag. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 157–​161. Steinkeller, P. 1993. Early political development in Mesopotamia and the origins of the Sargonic empire. In Liverani, M. (ed.), Akkad: The first world empire: structure, ideology, traditions. Padova: Sargon, 107–​129. Steinkeller, P. 1998. The historical background of Urkesh and the Hurrian beginnings in northern Mesopotamia. In Buccellati, G. and Kelly-​ Buccellati, M. (eds.), Urkesh and the Hurrians: studies in honor of Lloyd Cotsen. Malibu, CA: Undena Publications, 75–​98. Steinkeller, P. 1999. Land-​tenure conditions in third-​millennium Babylonia: the problem of regional variation. In Hudson, M. and Levine, B. (eds.), Urbanization and land ownership in the ancient Near East. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 289–​330. Steinkeller, P. 2002. Archaic city seals and the question of early Babylonian unity. In Abusch, T. (ed.), Riches hidden in secret places:  ancient Near Eastern studies in memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 249–​257. Steinkeller, P. 2003. An Ur III manuscript of the Sumerian king list. In Sallaberger, W., Volk, K. and Zgoll, A. (eds.), Literatur, Politik und Recht: Festschrift für Claus Wilcke. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 267–​292. Steinkeller, P. 2011. “Ancient kudurru” inscriptions. In George, A.R. (ed.), Cuneiform royal inscriptions and related texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 211–​220. Steinkeller, P. 2012. Marhaši and beyond: the Jiroft civilization in a historical perspective. In Lamberg-​Karlovsky, C.C. (ed.), “My life is like a summer rose”—​Maurizio Tosi e l’archeologia come modo di vivere: papers in honour of Maurizio Tosi. Oxford: Archaeopress, 691–​707. Steinkeller, P. 2013. An archaic “Prisoner Plaque” from Kiš. RA 107: 131–​157. Steinkeller, P. 2015a. Labor in the early states: an early Mesopotamian perspective. In Steinkeller, P. and Hudson, M. (eds.), Labor in the ancient world. Dresden: ISLET-​Verlag,  1–​35.

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Steinkeller, P. 2015b. The employment of labor on national building projects in the Ur III period. In Steinkeller, P. and Hudson, M. (eds.), Labor in the ancient world. Dresden: ISLET-​Verlag, 137–​236. Steinkeller, P. 2017. History, text and art in early Babylonia. Berlin: De Gruyter. Steinkeller, P. 2018. The birth of Elam in history. In Álvarez-​ Mon, J., Basello, G.P. and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 177–​202. Stone, E. 2013. The organization of a Sumerian town:  the physical remains of ancient social systems. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New York: Routledge, 156–​178. Streck, M. 2016. Verwandtschaft (kinship), A:  in Mesopotamien. RlA 14: 564–​566. Suter, C. 2013. Kings and queens: representation and reality. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New York: Routledge, 201–​226. Tamm, A. 2018. Tell Chuera:  Palast F—​ Architektur, Stratigraphie und Kleinfunde. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Thomas, D., Fowler, S. and Johnson, V. 2017. The silence of the archive. London: Facet Publishing. Thornton, C.P. 2012. Iran. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), Companion to the archaeology of the ancient Near East. Oxford: Blackwell, 596–​605. Tonietti, M.V. 2018. Classification of the Ebla language. Studia Eblaitica 4: 1–​16. Trigger, B.G. 2003. Understanding early civilizations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ur, J.A. 2010. Cycles of civilization in northern Mesopotamia, 4400–​2000 bc. JAR 18: 387–​431. Ur, J.A. 2012. Bronze Age cities of southern Mesopotamia. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), Companion to the archaeology of the ancient Near East. Oxford: Blackwell, 533–​555. Ur, J.A. 2013. Patterns of settlement in Sumer and Akkad. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New York: Routledge, 131–​155. Ur, J.A. 2014. Households and the emergence of cities in ancient Mesopotamia. CAJ 24: 249–​268. Van de Mieroop, M. 1999. Cuneiform texts and the writing of history. London and New York: Routledge. Van de Mieroop, M. 2013. Democracy and the rule of law, the assembly, and the first law code. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New York: Routledge, 277–​289.

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Van de Mieroop, M. 2014. Silver as a financial tool in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. In Bernholz, P. and Vaubel, R. (eds.), Explaining monetary and financial innovation. New York: Springer, 17–​29. Veldhuis, N. 2006. Another Early Dynastic incantation. CDLB 2006/​2: 1–​2. Veldhuis, N. 2014a. History of the cuneiform lexical tradition. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Veldhuis, N. 2014b. The Early Dynastic Kish tradition. In Sassmannshausen, L. (ed.), He has opened Nisaba’s house of learning: studies in honor of Åke Waldemar Sjöberg. Leiden: Brill, 241–​259. Visicato, G. 1995. The bureaucracy of Šuruppak. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Visicato, G. and Westenholz, A. 2005. An Early Dynastic archive from Ur involving the lugal. KASKAL:  Rivista di storia, ambienti e culture del Vicino Oriente antico 2: 55–​78. Visicato, G. and Westenholz, A. 2010. Early Dynastic and Early Sargonic tablets from Adab in the Cornell University collections. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Vogel, H. 2013. Death and burial. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New York: Routledge, 419–​434. Westbrook, R. and Jasnow, R. (ed.). 2001. Security for debt in ancient Near Eastern law. Leiden: Brill. Westenholz, A. 1975. Early cuneiform texts in Jena. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. Westenholz, A. 2014. A third millennium miscellany of cuneiform texts. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Westenholz, J.G. 2013. In the service of the gods:  the ministering clergy. In Crawford, H. (ed.), The Sumerian world. London and New  York: Routledge, 246–​274. Wilcke, C. 1985. Familiengründung im alten Babylonien. In Müller, E.W. (ed.), Geschlechtsreife und Legitimation zur Zeugung. Freiburg and Munich: Alber, 213–​317. Wilcke, C. 1996. Neue Rechtsurkunden der altsumerischen Zeit. ZA 86: 1–​67. Wilcke, C. 2003. Early ancient Near Eastern law, a history of its beginnings: the Early Dynastic and Sargonic periods. Munich: Beck. Wilkinson, T. 1994. The structure and dynamics of dry-​farming states in Upper Mesopotamia. CA 35: 483–​520. Winter, I.J. 1985. After the battle is over: the “Stele of the Vultures” and the beginning of historical narrative in the art of the ancient Near East. Studies in the History of Art 16: 11–​32.

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The Kingdom of Akkad A View from Within Ingo Schrakamp

9.1.  Introduction The late Early Dynastic period (cf. ­ chapter  8) at the end of the twenty-​fourth century bc saw the rise, from local ruler to master of Mesopotamia’s largest territorial state, of Sargon of Akkad (2316–​2277 bc), whose Akkadian name Śarru(m)-​kēn means “The king is true/​firm/​ legitimate” (often but incorrectly seen as a throne name). Sargon’s initially regional kingdom encompassed the Akkadian heartland in the area north of the Adheim River and east of the Tigris River, the land of Warium (Akkadian Wari’um, Warīum, Sumerian Uri),1 with the capital city Akkad located in the area of modern Samarra, as well as the northern

1. Schrakamp 2016b. Note that in this chapter, transliterations reflecting cuneiform orthography are used consistently. Akkadian text is set in italics while Sumerian is set in regular type. Identical readings of different signs are distinguished with diacritics, marked with subscript numerals; in Akkadian text, the second and third values are written instead with an acute and grave accent respectively. Determinatives are set in superscript lower-​case type. Half-​brackets mark damaged signs. Ingo Schrakamp, The Kingdom of Akkad In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0010.

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Figure 9.1.  Sites mentioned in c­ hapter 9. Only an approximate position is indicated for Akkad, as the city’s exact location is unknown. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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parts of Lower Mesopotamia (“Babylonia”), including the Diyala area (see figure 9.1).2 As a regional power, Akkad first appears as an opponent of Enšakušanna of Uruk around 2310 bc, while sources from Ebla, dating to ca. 2300 bc, mention a “King of Kiš,” most likely Sargon, as the most powerful ruler of northern Babylonia, thus partly confirming later tradition referring to Sargon’s rise to power.3 The role of Akkad as a capital city is also confirmed by roughly contemporary archival records from Tutub.4 Around 2292 bc, Sargon defeated Lugalzagesi, “King of Uruk” and “King of the land (of Sumer).” The long-​standing war against Lugalzagesi is not only reported in Sargon’s inscriptions but also referred to in the archive of Meskigala, who had been governor (ensi2) of Adab under Lugalzagesi but later allied with Sargon to fight his former overlord.5 Through the defeat of Lugalzagesi, Sargon unified the whole of southern Mesopotamia for the first time into a single territorial state and laid the foundations of the kingdom of Akkad, which dominated large parts of the Near East for more than a century. The period of its predominance (2292–​2173 bc) is today called, after its founder, the “Sargonic period,” or “(Old) Akkadian period.” Correspondingly, the late Early Dynastic period is often termed the “Pre-​Sargonic period” (see table 9.1). This chapter deals with the kingdom of Akkad under Sargon and his successors and direct descendants Rimuš, Maništusu, Naram-​Sin, and Šar-​kali-​šarri, from Akkad’s rise to transregional prominence to the territorial state’s disintegration.6 Note that our discussion does not include

2. Sommerfeld 2014; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 90. 3. Archi and Biga 2003; Archi 2008; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 90–​104. 4. Sommerfeld 2004: 288–​290; 2011c: 92. 5. On Meskigala of Adab see Visicato 2010; Visicato and Westenholz 2010; Such-​ Gutiérrez 2015; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 87–​88, 93–​94; cf. c­ hapter 10. 6. On the history of the kingdom of Akkad see Glassner 1986; Liverani 1993a; Westenholz 1999; Sommerfeld 2006; 2011a; Westenholz 2011a; 2011b; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b; Foster 2016; Schrakamp 2016a.

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Table 9.1.  Chronology and periodization of the second half of the third millennium bc* Dating

Ruler

Historical period

2475–​2292 bc 2316–​2277 bc 2292 bc

Pre-​Sargonic  period Dynasty of Sargon

Sargon Conquest of Sumer

2276–​2254 bc

Rimuš and Maništusu

2253–​2198 bc

Naram-​Sin

ca. 2230 bc 2197–​2173 bc 2172–​2170  bc

“Great Revolt”

Early Sargonic period

Classical Sargonic period

Šar-​kali-​šarri Period of confusion

2169–​2149  bc

Dudu

2148–​2134 bc

Šudurul

2102–​2085 bc

Ur-​Namma

ca.2092 bc

Conquest of Sumer and Akkad

Late Akkadian/​Gutean period

Dynasty of Ur-​Namma Ur III period

*“Middle Chronology” reduced by eight years. Source: Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b; 2015c: 301–​303.

Akkad’s fate in the aftermath, when the Akkadian heartland survived for a time as a regional state under the rulers Dudu and Šudurul, eventually to be conquered by the Guteans and the Elamites under king Puzur-​ Inšušinak, because Dudu and Šudurul are not directly related to Sargon’s dynasty.7

7. Dudu and Šudurul left only a few sources, whose palaeographic, orthographic, and linguistic features markedly differ from texts of the Classical Sargonic period (cf. table  9.1). Cf. Pomponio 2011; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b:  110–​112, 129–​130.

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9.2. The sources The Sargonic period is documented on the one hand by ca. 150 royal inscriptions that praise the accomplishments of the kings of Akkad.8 Most of these are attested not in the form of contemporary originals but in the shape of later, but generally reliable, copies made in the early second millennium bc during the “Old Babylonian” period (see volume 2) from statues and steles that continued to be publicly displayed. These inscriptions mainly relate to the conquests of the kings of Akkad and thus provide us with a historical-​political and geographical framework for our reconstruction of the Sargonic period. Occasionally inscriptions also refer to the building of temples and the like. Votive or dedicatory inscriptions and seal inscriptions of members of the royal family and the royal court provide additional information.9 On the other hand, more than eight thousand surviving archival records document the administration of the realm.10 The data contained in these texts often include year dates, which in the typical custom of early southern Mesopotamian practice selected an event of great ideological importance (such as military success, temple construction, or cultic appointments, usually of high priestesses) to identify a given year.11 Most available archival texts come from state-​run administrative institutions and economic households, mainly concerned with the management of agriculture, animal husbandry, fishing, and craft production. These institutions also yielded a corpus of ca. 150 letters, most of which represent the correspondence of state officials;12 a similar number of legal documents; and a smaller number of scribal exercises and school texts, usually lexical texts and some literary compositions, incantations, and rituals, all 8. Editions: Gelb and Kienast 1990; Frayne 1993; Kienast and Sommerfeld 1994. 9. Cf. also Braun-​Holzinger 1991; Rohn 2011. 10. Overviews of Sargonic archival records include Foster 1982a; 1982c; Westenholz 1984a; Visicato 2000; Foster 2016: 51–​80; Schrakamp 2015a; 2017. 11. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 41–​48. 12. The basic edition is Kienast and Volk 1995; on the language of Sargonic officials see Westenholz 1993.

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materials pertaining to the education of the Sargonic bureaucrats and the scribal elite.13 There are some private archives that document the commercial enterprises of wealthy families, and they comprise a similar range of economic, legal, and school texts. But these private archives are few in number, and the distinction between official and private is sometimes not strictly defined.14 Generally, the Sumerian language was predominant in the southern stretches of Lower Mesopotamia, whereas Akkadian dialects dominated the northern part. Regardless of their location, any archives directly linked to the king also used Sargonic Akkadian, the native dialect of the kings of Akkad. The use of Sargonic Akkadian often went hand in hand with an elaborate chancery script that is called Classical Sargonic here, well attested during the reigns of Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri.15 On the basis of the paleography of its written sources,16 the Sargonic period is subdivided into an Early and a Classical Sargonic period.17 The Early Sargonic period covers the later reign of Sargon, the reigns of Rimuš and Maništusu, and Naram-​Sin’s earlier reign, while the later reign of Naram-​ Sin and the reign of Šar-​kali-​šarri are referred to as the Classical Sargonic period (cf. Table 1). These textual sources are supplemented by archaeological data.18 There are some instances of monumental architecture from the Sargonic period. The palace of Naram-​Sin at Nagar (Tell Brak in northern Syria), the “Unfinished Building” at Šehna (Tell Leilan), and the monumental building at Ešnunna (Tell Asmar) are all fortified buildings. Excavations there yielded official archives that highlight how these sites served as administrative centers that controlled their hinterlands and highlight a

13. Westenholz 1974–​1977; Foster 1982h. 14. Westenholz 1999: 64 n. 283; Neumann 2007. 15. Sommerfeld 1999: 7–​13; 2003. 16. The most recent treatment of Sargonic palaeography is Maiocchi 2015. 17. On this subdivision see Foster 1982c: 3–​4 (with references) and most recently Schrakamp 2017: 96. 18. For a recent overview see McMahon 2012.

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situation that is otherwise indirectly referred to in the written records. The god Enlil’s temple Ekur at Nippur, reconstructed by Naram-​Sin, is currently the only known example of Sargonic sacral architecture, but it is frequently referred to in the contemporary texts.19 Sargonic monumental art includes sculpture in the round, reliefs, and steles.20 These objects often bore inscriptions of the kings of Akkad. Copies made of these by later scribes often include captions that describe the original monument or the inscription’s position on it.21 Essentially, these objects were expressions of Sargonic royal ideology, perpetuating the kings’ claim to power in text and image; their geographic distribution is highly suggestive. The statues of Maništusu,22 the “Victory Stele” of Naram-​Sin,23 and the bronze cast head of a king of Akkad that had been intentionally mutilated in antiquity (found in a first millennium bc context at a Neo-​Assyrian palace in Nineveh, see ­chapter 10) represent high points in ancient Near Eastern art. This high standard of craftsmanship also applies to Sargonic glyptic art, which is attested through a large corpus of ca. two thousand cylinder seals and their ancient impressions on clay tablets and other objects. These seals often bear inscriptions that identify their owners as members of the ruling elite of the kingdom of Akkad.24 On the basis of these sources, the present chapter seeks to outline the inner workings of the kingdom of Akkad and its political, ideological, socioeconomic, and administrative foundations. The far-​reaching campaigns of the kingdom of Akkad and its relations to the outside world are the subject of ­chapter 10.

19. See Westenholz 1999: 60–​62; Such-​Gutiérrez 2003: 41–​48; see section 9.4.3. 20. Westenholz 1999: 85–​89; Foster 2016: 188–​205. 21. Foster 2016: 249–​251. 22. Eppihimer 2009; 2010; Thomas 2015. 23. Bänder 1995. 24. Boehmer 1965. See Rohn 2011 for a recent edition of seal inscriptions.

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9.3.  The kingdom of Akkad from Sargon to Šar-​kali-​šarri The reigns of Sargon and his sons Rimuš and Maništusu represent the formative phase of the kingdom of Akkad. Sources from these kings’ reigns include official inscriptions and archival records. While archival records that date to the time of Sargon have been identified at various places, no archival records have so far been securely attributed to the reigns of his sons, although some recently published texts from Adab might date to this time.25 The vast majority of the available administrative Sargonic texts date to the reigns of Sargon’s grandson Naram-​Sin and his great-​grandson Šar-​kali-​šarri: some eight thousand administrative texts from institutional archives from approximately twenty sites throughout the realm.26

9.3.1  Sargon, the founder of the Akkad state The conquest of Sumer, that is, the southern parts of modern Iraq, around 2292 bc marks the beginning of the Early Sargonic period. The event is reported in retrospect in Sargon’s inscriptions. The most important of these is a long, comprehensive account compiled in Sargonic Akkadian and an independent version in the Sumerian language. Both of these compositions were engraved on a single monument that was

25. Archival records from Adab combine features of both Early and Classical Sargonic writing traditions and thus represent an intermediary stage. This has led to the proposal to assume a Middle Sargonic stage of the palaeography; see most recently Maiocchi 2015. But since the majority of the Adab texts can be confidently dated to the first part of Naram-​Sin’s reign, whereas texts that could be securely attributed to Sargon’s sons are still lacking, the beginning of this writing stage is almost impossible to define, and the definition of Middle Sargonic to include the reigns of Rimuš and Maništusu is considered conjectural and uncertain; see Molina 2014: 28 with n. 22; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 5, 105–​108. 26. More recent overviews of Classical Sargonic archives include Foster 1993b: 175–​ 176; Visicato 2000:  99–​231; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b:  111 map 10; Schrakamp 2015a: 223–​270; 2017: 96–​115; Foster 2016: 65–​73.

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displayed in the Ekur temple of the god Enlil at Nippur; they are known from copies made by scribes in the early second millennium bc. The texts from the Ekur monument are supplemented by another comprehensive, largely parallel account in Sargonic Akkadian as well as various shorter inscriptions. According to these sources, Sargon, “King of Akkad” (lugal A-​ga-​de3ki), defeated Lugalzagesi of Uruk and fifty governors (ensi2) in at least three battles, conquered Uruk, and razed its walls. Sargon captured Lugalzagesi and led him in a neck-​stock to the temple of Enlil at Nippur, thus publicly demonstrating that the gods had elected him to be the (one) “king” (lugal) instead. Sargon also conquered the cities Ur, EninMAR.KI (reading unclear) at the coast of the Gulf, Lagaš, and Umma and razed their walls, then proceeded to wash his weapons in the Lower Sea, that is, the Persian Gulf (cf. ­chapter 10). After the defeat of Lugalzagesi, Sargon first referred to himself as “King of the Land” (lugal kalam-​ma) and “Great Steward of Enlil” (ensi2-​gal den-​lil2), thus alluding to Lugalzagesi’s former titles, and then assumed the title lugal KIŠ, which either means “King of Kiš” or “King of the Universe” but which in any case expressed the claim to exclusive, hegemonic power;27 the title was adopted by his sons and successors Rimuš and Maništusu. The title is thought to emphasize the newly forged unity of the Sumerian south and the Akkadian north. This also applies to Sargon’s earlier religious titles “pašišum, priest of An” (pa4-​šeš an), and “Bailiff of Ištar” (maškim-​gi4 dinanna), which highlight the southern city of Uruk and the northern city of Akkad, respectively. The importance of these two localities is also evident from the bilingual conquest account on the monument in the Ekur temple; despite being displayed at Nippur, the texts were composed in Sargonic Akkadian and in the southern dialect of Sumerian used at Uruk.28 Thus, Sargon’s titles not only reflect 27. Whether LUGAL KIŠ means šar kiššatim, “King of the universe,” or simply represents the Early Dynastic title “King of Kiš” is a source of controversy, but either way it expressed a hegemonic claim to power; see most recently Westenholz 2002:  32–​35; Maeda 2005:  22–​23 n.  3; Marchesi and Marchetti 2011:  97–​98; Steinkeller 2013a:  145–​146. The unambiguous spelling “lugal kišiki” in Bartash 2017: no. 107 supports the latter interpretation. 28. Westenholz 1999: 37–​38; Maeda 2005; Sommerfeld 2012: 199.

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the successive stages of his career and imply a relative chronology29 but also express his hegemonic claim to power; allude to the concept of the unified, territorial state; and thus illustrate the foundations of Sargonic royal ideology.30 Sargon’s claims to power were implemented by means of the army. In his inscriptions, he boasts of having defeated Lugalzagesi “with nine regiments of Akkad” (in 9 ⸢ki-​zi-​re2⸣ A-​ga-​de3ki; perhaps corresponding to the “nine captains of Akkad” mentioned much later by his grandson and third successor, Naram-​Sin) and of having fed at his table every day fifty-​four hundred men (guruš; perhaps corresponding to the aforementioned nine regiments, if those consisted of six hundred men) or thirteen troops (surx), respectively.31 This has been taken as a reference to the existence of a standing army, bound to the king by personal loyalty, probably as a part of the royal palatial household. The “Maništusu Obelisk” (cf. section 9.3.3), written a generation after Sargon’s conquests, refers to generals (šagana) of the archers (lu2 ĝešti) and of the lance-​fighters (lu2 ĝeš gid2-​da) who must have served during Sargon’s reign and thus further supports the existence of a standing army, whose supremacy is suggested by Rimuš’s suppression of a revolt in 2276 bc. But as the city of Akkad and its palace archives wait for their discovery, its organization remains unknown.32 Later archival sources, pictorial representations such as on the Victory Stele of Naram-​Sin (see ­figure 10.5), and archaeological finds indicate that Akkad owed some of its military success to the introduction of the superior composite bow as a rank-​and-​file weapon and to innovative battle tactics based on the use of long-​range weapons (composite bows; slings), which were already common in the time before Sargon. After the conquest of Sumer, Sargon reorganized his new realm. Any indication of the administrative structure that is later well documented 29. Franke 1995: 98–​101, 108; Westenholz 1999: 37–​38; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 90. 30. Westenholz 1979: 109 n. 6; Franke 1995: 94–​101; Westenholz 1999: 37–​38. 31. On the reading of these passages see Westenholz 1999:  36 n.  99; Sommerfeld 2008b: 233–​235; 2011a: 47. 32. Schrakamp 2015c: 226; 2015d: 216–​217; 2017: 91; 2019: 85–​86.

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under Naram-​ Sin and Šar-​ kali-​ šarri, is lacking.33 Since transitional phases often leave no trace in the archival records, the Early Sargonic texts datable to Sargon are largely characterized by traditional archival practice,34 and it is therefore Sargon’s royal inscriptions that provide the most important sources on how he ran the Akkad state. Sargon claims to have razed the fortifications of the conquered cities and to have appointed “Sons of Akkad” (dumu-​dumu A-​ga-​de3ki) as governors as far as the Gulf, thus turning former city states into provinces directly answerable to the king.35 It is generally assumed that the term “Sons of Akkad” refers to native Akkadians. But the rigorous implementation of the concept of appointing Akkadians as local governors has been doubted, or the practice considered a less successful and short-​lived experiment, because at least one governor, Meskigala of Adab (whose name is Sumerian), already held the post before Sargon’s conquest and was therefore left in power despite the regime change; there are only two known governors from the Sumerian south with Akkadian names, Ennanum and Šuruš-​kin of Umma;36 and later governors in the south mostly had Sumerian names (cf. section 9.4.2).37 However, the Maništusu Obelisk demonstrates that the term “Sons of Akkad” denotes the loyal followers of the crown who were rewarded with land from the royal domain and who benefited from the king’s patronage regardless of their origin (cf. section 9.3.3). Besides members of the royal family, court, and army, these include dignitaries of apparently Sumerian origin, such as the sons of a servant of the governor of Umma and the son of the governor of Lagaš.38 The Maništusu Obelisk 33. Sommerfeld 2011a: 47. 34. Michalowski 1987: 57–​59. 35. On the reading see Westenholz 1999: 39 n. 117. 36. On Ennanum and Šuruš-​kin see Visicato 2010: 269, 271; 2012; Marchesi 2011: 19–​ 20; Pomponio 2012: 104–​105; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​40, 93–​94. 37. Foster 1993a:  28; Westenholz 1993:  161 n.  11; 1999:  39; Frahm and Payne 2003–​2004: 54. 38. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 40 n. 132; Schrakamp 2015b; and the references in the note 36.

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also mentions the son of Ilšu-​rabi, governor of Pašime (modern Tell Abu Sheeja), whose career began in the military and who, by Maništusu’s reign, had been promoted to the post of governor.39 Most likely these men represent the successors of the governors originally appointed by Sargon, who had thus established a practice that was still followed by his sons.40 In addition, a letter from the Classical Sargonic period concerns the establishment of the boundary between (the provinces) Lagaš and Ur.41 Thus, the former city states were reduced to provinces and administered on behalf of the king by loyal followers of the crown. Moreover, Sargon appointed his daughter Enheduanna as high priestess (en) of the moon-​god Nanna at Ur, and perhaps he also installed another daughter in the parallel function at Nippur.42 It is debated whether in doing so Sargon followed ancient customs or this was a new policy designed to gain control over the local clergy, but in either case he set a precedent that his successors continued, as did various later Mesopotamian rulers.43 Appointing his daughters certainly meant infringing upon the privileges of the local elites, who had previously claimed the right to fill the most important priestly roles with their relatives.44 A dedication to Sargon by a “temple administrator of Zabala” (saĝĝa zabala6ki) may imply that in addition to installing high priestesses, the king also personally appointed the heads of at least some temples.45 The authorship of the “Sumerian Temple Hymns” is usually attributed to Sargon’s daughter Enheduanna. These compositions circumscribe the

39. Hussein et al. 2010: 57–​58; Schrakamp 2017: 91 n. 7. Cf. also ­chapter 10. 40. Glassner 1986: 11–​12; Potts 1994: 103; Schrakamp 2017: 91. 41. Kienast and Volk 1995: Gir 26; cf. Sommerfeld 2015b: 272–​273; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 110, 119; Schrakamp 2017: 92, 107 n. 35. 42. On Enheduanna and her chronology see most recently Westenholz 2000: 553–​ 555; Weiershäuser 2008: 249–​256; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 95–​96, 115. 43. Glassner 1986:  12–​ 13; Steinkeller 1999b:  125–​ 129; Westenholz 1999:  38; Weiershäuser 2008: 254. 44. Michalowski 1987: 65–​66; Renger 2001: 373–​374. 45. Marchesi 2011. Cf. note 173 on the temple administrator Irinabadbi.

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geographical scope of the kingdom of Akkad by picturing it as an undividable whole, thus emphasizing the unity between north and south.46 Another of Enheduanna’s compositions, dubbed “The Exaltation of Inana,” may reflect her attempt to establish the goddess Ištar (Sumerian Inana) as the state’s deity;47 whether archival records from Ur dealing with offerings for Inana support this view remains uncertain.48 According to later literary tradition, the self-​proclaimed rebel king Lugalanne of Ur expelled Enheduanna during the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin around 2230 bc.49 After consolidating his power, Naram-​Sin installed his daughters Tuṭṭanab-​šum, Enmenana, and Šumšani as high priestesses in the most important priestly roles at Nippur, Ur, and Sippar.50 In contrast to these seemingly disruptive practices, the contemporary archival records from the southern cities of Adab, Nippur, and Umma are characterized by a continuation of local administrative traditions.51 They continue to mention scribes and bureaucrats who were already active before Sargon,52 only rarely mention people with Akkadian names,53 and exhibit great continuity in local scribal conventions, thus complicating

46. Westenholz 1999: 38–​39. 47. Weiershäuser 2008: 252–​254 (“Reichsgöttin”). 48. Steible 1997: 196; Schrakamp 2015a: 221 n. 244 (with references); Westenholz 2014: no. 232. 49. On this tradition and its historicity see Westenholz 1999: 53–​54; Sommerfeld 2000: 427 n. 21; Haul 2009: 38–​40. 50. Weiershäuser 2008: 255–​259. 51. Foster 1982d: 8–​10; 46–​50; 2016: 6–​7 dated the “Mu-​iti A Archive” from Umma to the reign of Rimuš; Foster assumed that records pertaining to the deployment and provisioning of corvée troops (surx) refer to prisoners of war, deported to forced labor after the suppression of a revolt by Rimuš in 2276 bc, but prosopography and archival contexts exclude this interpretation:  see Westenholz 1984b: 76–​78; Steinkeller 1987: 185–​189; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​ 40, 93–​94 (with references). 52. Westenholz 1975a: 4; Foster 1982d: 43; Visicato 2000: 85–​87, 94–​95; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​40, 93–​94; Such-​Gutiérrez 2015: 435–​436. 53. Westenholz 1975a: 8–​9; Foster 1982f.

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their paleographic differentiation from earlier texts.54 The archive of the governor of Umma still used the local mu-​iti dating system, which referred to the years that the local ruler had been in office.55 Meskigala, the governor of Adab, even used his own date formulae, which indicates a notable degree of independence, as the promulgation of year names was normally considered a royal prerogative. Despite these indications for the continuation of local administrative practice, the Umma archive testifies to the presence of a range of Sargonic military and officials; these include royal soldiers (aga3-​us2 lugal), (royal) men-​at-​arms (lu2 tukul; lu2 tukul lugal), emissaries (sugal7), and (Akkadian) agents (maškim; maškim uri-​me), sometimes with Akkadian names.56 As representatives of the king, they authorized transactions of the local governor.57 The “Sabum File” records the deployment and provisioning of several hundred local corvée troops (surx), but whether they had been drafted for a royal building project is debated.58 The texts of the archive of Meskigala, governor of Adab, mention royal officials (lu2 lugal; mar-​du2 lugal; sugal7 lugal; sugal7 A-​ga-​de3ki), again with Akkadian names. The archive demonstrates that Meskigala and DI-​Utu, his captain (NU-​banda3), frequently traveled to the city of Akkad, while records pertaining to visits of Sargon (once explicitly referred to as lugal kišiki, “King of Kiš”) and his representatives in Adab indicate that Meskigala recognized Sargon as his sovereign.59 In archival records from Nippur, some elements of centralization are discernible:  year names of Sargon, offerings on behalf of the king, and the measurement unit “royal kor” (gur lugal), a precursor of the

54. Westenholz 1975a:  3–​4; Foster 1982d:  3–​6; Sallaberger 1998:  24–​32; Such-​ Gutiérrez 2015: 438–​445. 55. Most recently, Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​40, 93–​94. 56. Foster 1982d: 15–​16, 19, 29, 30, 38–​39; Schrakamp 2017: 91–​92. 57. Bartash 2017: no. 443. 58. Westenholz 1984b: 78. 59. Visicato 2010:  264–​268; Visicato and Westenholz 2010:  4–​8; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 88; Such-​Gutiérrez 2015: 434–​438; cf. Bartash 2017: no. 107.

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later “Akkadian kor” (gur A-​ga-​de3ki).60 The use of royal standards always implies an interference in the local administration,61 and a single reference in the context of ships from Dilmun reminds us of Sargon’s claim in his inscriptions to have moored ships from Dilmun (modern Bahrain),62 Makkan (modern Oman), and Meluhha (Indus valley region) at the quay of Akkad (cf. c­ hapter 10), which is thought to reflect efforts to centralize maritime trade. Archival records deal with provisions for high-​ranking foreign residents, envoys, and royal representatives (lu2 lugal; lu2 sugal7), in part with Akkadian names, and mention persons from places such as Adab, Al-​šarraki, Ereš, Larsa, Marada, Kazallu, Kiš, Šuruppag, Umma, and Ur as well as Elam. This recalls the geographical horizon of a later Nippur archive, the “Onion Archive” (cf. section 9.4.3), and suggests that Sargon credited Nippur with a preeminent role in the administrative network of his realm.63 Except for Akkad’s role as the state capital,64 almost nothing is known from the north; Sargon’s rule in the south was characterized by an integration of the former city states into the realm as provinces, the installation of members of the royal family and the royal court in key positions, and the presence of Sargonic military and representatives in these provinces, while local administrative practices continued, indicating that the lower ranks of the regional administration remained in place despite the regime change.

60. Westenholz 1999: 38–​39; Sommerfeld 2011a: 46; Such-​Gutiérrez 2015: 436 n. 14. 61. Foster 1977: 301–​302. 62. Schrakamp 2017: 92 n. 12. 63. Westenholz 1975a: 5–​6, 38; 1979: 121 n. 20; 1999: 64 n. 272; Schrakamp 2015a: 213; 2017: 92 n. 13. 64. Sommerfeld 2004: 288–​290; 2011c: 92.

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9.3.2  Rimuš: confiscating rebel land for the crown’s loyal supporters Apparently the architecture of the Akkad state was so unstable that Rimuš, Sargon’s son and successor,65 faced a revolt of the Sumerian south upon his accession in 2276 bc, “immediately after Enlil had bestowed kingship upon him.” A  long inscription on a statue dedicated on the occasion of his eventual victory, known from later copies, reports that Rimuš defeated three Sumerian coalitions—​Ur and Lagaš, Adab and Zabala, and Umma and KI.AN (or Kidiĝira)—​led by Kaku, the self-​ proclaimed king of Ur. When Rimuš returned to the north, the city of Kazallu joined the uprising but was likewise defeated.66 According to Rimuš’s inscription, in total 84,556 or 85,816 enemies were killed or captured and deported to be put to forced labor.67 These enormous numbers probably corresponded to up to one-​third of the male population able to carry arms, and the many casualties were the reason there were no further uprisings before the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin ca. 2230 bc.68 The revolt against Rimuš was certainly carried out by members of the local elites, presumably in reaction to the installation of members of the royal family and court in key societal positions. However, a dedication to Rimuš by the governor of Šuruppag indicates that some cities in the Sumerian south recognized Sargonic rule, while

65. Although the earliest known version of the Sumerian King List dating to the period of the Third Dynasty of Ur (edited by Steinkeller 2003)  mentions Maništusu instead of Rimuš as Sargon’s immediate successor, it is nevertheless more likely that Rimuš was Sargon’s successor: Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 93–​94; Schrakamp 2016b: 53; 2017: 83 n. 2. 66. On this event see Buccellati 1993; Westenholz 1999:  41–​ 42; Sommerfeld 2008a: 372–​373; Pomponio 2012: 106–​107; Schrakamp 2017: 93–​94. 67. On the correct reading of these long-​ debated figures see Sommerfeld 2008b:  227–​232; 2012:  198 n.  4; on their historical credibility see Schrakamp 2015d: 216; 2017: 93 n. 14. 68. Westenholz 1999: 41–​42 n. 131; 2002: 39.

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the northern city of Kazallu’s participation in the uprising demonstrates that it was neither a regional nor an ethnically based phenomenon.69 A fragmentary limestone stele from Girsu (modern Telloh; mutilated in antiquity and now housed in the Louvre) can be attributed to Rimuš for stylistic reasons and probably provides a pictorial illustration of the uprising.70 While the stele depicts Akkadian soldiers executing captured enemy soldiers with typically Sumerian hairstyles, its inscription records huge tracts of land in the province of Lagaš and their allocation to Akkadian dignitaries, including captains of the Mardu (i.e., Amorites) (NU-​banda3 mar-​du2-​ne) and emissaries (sugal7) with Akkadian names. A further stele fragment of unknown provenance, now in the Yale Babylonian Collection, records tracts of land in the same area and was part of the same monument, as suggested especially by mineralogical analysis. Taken together, the fragments document at least 1,339 sq km of land, including seventeen “important cities” (iri saĝ) and eight “important settlements” (maš-​ga-​na saĝ). This constitutes the largest agricultural domain ever attested in the cuneiform record, in all likelihood corresponding to approximately 2 percent of land under the plow in Lower Mesopotamia. Since the Louvre fragment mentions the inthronization of a king of Akkad, the monument is thought to refer to the suppression of the revolt against Rimuš and the subsequent confiscation of the rebels’ land.71 Although this interpretation has been called into question, the suggestion of a royal confiscation of land is generally accepted, and this episode is confirmed also by the huge landholdings of Sargonic officials, as recorded in Classical Sargonic sources from Girsu, the administrative center of the province of Lagaš.72 Notably, this meant an expropriation of

69. Westenholz 1999: 41; Schrakamp 2017: 93. 70. On its content and dating see Bänder 1995: 122–​133; Nigro 2001–​2003; Thomas 2015: 87. 71. Gelb et  al. 1991:  no.  24, 39; see Foster 1982a:  30–​32; 1985; 2000:  313–​315; 2011: 127–​131; 2016: 7–​8, 72, 92. 72. Despite the results of the autopsy of the pieces and of the mineralogical analysis, Gelb et  al. 1991:  88–​90; Glassner 1995:  22–​23; and Steinkeller 1999a:  554–​555

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land originally owned by the temples, which acted as earthy households of the gods. In addition, the confiscation may have marked the beginning of the establishment of royal agricultural domains in the Sumerian south (cf. section 9.5.2).73

9.3.3  Maništusu: purchasing land for the crown In addition to forceful confiscation, the estates of the royal domain were also enlarged by means of purchase. The earliest evidence for this is provided by the inscription of the Maništusu Obelisk (see figure 9.2), a stele made of black gabbro quarried in Oman, ancient Makkan (cf. ­chapter 10). It records that Maništusu purchased parcels of and totaling 3,430 hectares (i.e., 9,723 iku) from members of extended families in the area of Kiš. Since the plots adjoined estates held by members of the royal family, the purchase certainly served to extend and consolidate the landholdings of the royal domain. Although the king paid a fair price of 3.3 shekels per iku and the purchase was documented according to the usual legal conventions, it is easy to assume that the vendors were not free to decline to sell their land.74 The inscription names forty-​nine “Sons of Akkad” (dumu-​dumu A-​ga-​de3ki) as witnesses to the purchase, who at the same time are its

doubted that the fragments belong to the same monument and argued that palaeography and orthography could allow for a later dating, but their objections have been largely invalidated by Foster 1994:  447–​448; 2011:  128 n.  7; Bänder 1995: 122; Westenholz 1999: 42 n. 132; and Schrakamp 2017: 94. That a confiscation of land is documented is generally accepted; see, for example, Gelb et al. 1991: 26–​28 and Pomponio 2012: 106–​107. The only alternative historical dating would be to the context of the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin; cf. section 9.3.4. 73. Neumann 1992:  243–​ 244; Foster 2011:  129–​ 130; 2016:  90–​ 92; Neumann 2014: 38–​39; Schrakamp 2017: 94 n. 16. 74. On this document see more recently Gelb et  al. 1991:  116–​140; Westenholz 1999:  44–​46; Milano 2003:  25–​29; 2008:  117–​120; Foster 2016:  1–​2, 35–​36; Schrakamp 2017: 94–​95.

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Figure 9.2.  The “Maništusu Obelisk,” excavated at Susa. Louvre, Paris (acquisition number Sb 20). Photo by Mbzt 2011, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​ commons.wikimedia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=16920203), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 3.0 (CC BY-​SA 3.0) license.

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beneficiaries.75 Besides members and close associates of the royal family, including a brother of the king (ses lugal) and a servant of the queen, who was also temple administrator of the god Lugalmarada (šu nin saĝĝa d lugal-​mara2-​da), this illustrious group of people features the sons of high-​ranking members of the Sargonic administration, army, and court, including the governor of Pašime, the temple administrator of the god Ilaba, a judge (di-​ku5), several generals, a servant of the conscription officer (ši gal5-​la gal), a majordomo (šabra e2), a cupbearer (sagi), and a barber (šu-​i). The names of forty-​one of these forty-​nine “Sons of Akkad” indicate that their bearers firmly belonged to the Akkadian community, while only three “Sons of Akkad,” namely the son of the governor of Lagaš and the sons of a servant of the governor of Umma (both situated in the south) bear names that suggest that they were of Sumerian origin. Moreover, several members of this group had Akkadian names that explicitly honored the sovereign and expressed their fathers’ loyalty at the time of their naming: “Sargon is My God,” “The King is My God,” and “The King is a Fortress.”76 The naming practices and titles observed in the group of beneficiaries of the Maništusu Obelisk run parallel to those of the members of the royal entourage that accompanied the king and queen on their journeys through the realm, and these people, too, are attested as holders of huge tracts of land. Thus, the term “Son of Akkad” is a title and designation for followers of the king, whose loyalty was rewarded through allocations of land from the royal domain regardless of their origin. Assuming that the purchased land was divided equally among the forty-​nine “Sons of Akkad,” each would have received a very sizable estate of 70 hectares (i.e., 198.5 iku), at a time when a field of 2 iku was considered to be enough to provide sufficient subsistence for a core family unit.77

75. On the “Sons of Akkad” see Foster 2000; 2016: 1–​2, 241 n. 5; Maeda 2005: 26–​ 27; Schrakamp 2017: 90–​91, 94–​95. 76. Westenholz 1979: 111; Andersson 2012: 76, 199–​200, 257. 77. Schrakamp 2017: 94–​95.

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The Maništusu Obelisk is a key source for the way the early Akkad rulers implemented and secured their rule. At the core was a reward system for their loyal supporters that made use of land controlled by the crown, assembled through conquest, confiscation, and purchase.78 The allocation of land generated and deepened loyalties and dependencies toward the crown among the beneficiaries, who were expected to pay taxes and muster conscripts as appropriate to their landholdings. That the Maništusu Obelisk lists not only high-​ranking dignitaries among the beneficiaries of such land allocations, but also their sons, who had not yet themselves risen to influential positions, highlights how the crown made a conscious effort to deepen the loyalties and dependencies beyond the generation of original supporters who had themselves directly contributed to the creation of the Akkad kingdom. The integration of local dignitaries of Sumerian origin, such as from the families of the governors of Lagaš and Umma, expanded the network of royal patronage and facilitated the crown’s access to the knowledge and influence wielded by the local elites and administrative bodies.79

9.3.4  Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri: consolidating the kingdom of Akkad The decisive event for the kingdom was arguably the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin, which took place around 2230 bc. A  man called Iphur-​Kiš of Kiš led a northern coalition that included Kiš, Cutha, A.HA, Sippar, Kazallu, Giritab, Apiak, and some other cities, while Amargirid of Uruk assembled a southern alliance that included the cities Uruk, Ur, Lagaš, Umma, Adab, Šuruppag, Isin, and Nippur, and both groups revolted against Sargonic rule.80 According to his royal inscriptions, Naram-​Sin defeated the rebels within one year in a series of nine 78. The Sippar Stone may document another royal land purchase, perhaps also conducted by Maništusu: Foster 2016: 25 n. 5. Westenholz 1999: 32 n. 76 argued for an origin of this monument in the northern Tigris region. 79. Foster 2016: 1–​2; Schrakamp 2017: 94–​95. 80. See the editions in Gelb and Kienast 1990; Frayne 1993; Kienast and Sommerfeld 1994; Wilcke 1997; Sommerfeld 2000; Haul 2009:  59–​94; cf. Sommerfeld 1999: 3 n. 7; on its historical background and dating see Westenholz 1999: 51–​54;

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battles, totaling the body count of the enemy forces as 95,340 men, among them two kings, 13 generals, 23 governors, and numerous “notables” (rabiānu).81 As commemorated in the inscription on the copper statue from Bassetki (see ­figure 10.4), the citizens of Akkad requested in the aftermath that Naram-​Sin be their god.82 The ruler assumed the title “King of the Four Corners of the World” (šar kibrātim arba’im), expressing an absolute claim to power,83 and embarked on a large-​scale temple building program that also included the reconstruction of the god Enlil’s temple at Nippur.84 As already stated (section 9.3), most of the available Sargonic texts date to the reigns of Sargon’s grandson Naram-​Sin and his great-​grandson Šar-​kali-​šarri, constituting about eight thousand administrative documents mainly from institutional archives in roughly twenty sites scattered across the realm. There is a remarkable uniformity in the shape of the clay tablets and their layout, and the cuneiform sign forms are characterized by an elaborate ductus typically used to write Akkadian in the Classical Sargonic variant, the native dialect of the kings of Akkad and the preferred language of the royal administration.85 This typical writing style is first clearly noticeable during the reign of Naram-​Sin and often

2000: 553–​555; Sallaberger 2007: 425–​431; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 95–​ 96, 108–​110; on the literary tradition see Goodnick Westenholz 1997: 221–​261; Haul 2009: 59–​94. 81. Sommerfeld 2000: 426; 2008: 232–​233; cf. section 9.3.2. 82. On the dating of the rebellion in the middle of Naram-​Sin’s reign and the writing of his name with the divine classifier diĝir (or the attribute ilum) as a chronological indicator, see Glassner 1986: 14–​16; Frayne 1991: 381–​383; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b:  108–​109. Recently published textual finds from Adab have invalidated most of the reservations raised by Westenholz 1999: 47; 2000: 553 and Salgues 2011: 259; see Molina 2014: 29 n. 30 and Schrakamp 2017: 114 n. 50. 83. Franke 1995: 160–​164. 84. Westenholz 2000: 553. 85. Foster 1982c:  3–​4, 9–​10; 1986b:  46–​49; 2016:  18–​21; Sommerfeld 1999:  7–​13; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 105–​108.

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thought to reflect an administrative and writing reform.86 But as the orthographic system of Sargonic Akkadian was already used in Sargon’s royal inscriptions, and as the typical script and language co-​occur along with local writing styles and dialects in various archival contexts, the absence of earlier evidence may merely be the result of a lack of preserved royal archives and administrative practice before Naram-​Sin. In either case, the use of the typical Sargonic Akkadian script and language is a certain sign of the involvement of the royal authority.87

9.4.  The provincial administration The kingdom of Akkad was divided into provinces that largely corresponded to the traditional city states and were administered by governors, who called themselves servants (ir11) of the king.88 The northern provinces were under direct control of the ruling family; under Naram-​ Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri, royal princes acting as governors are known from Ešnunna, Kiš, Pugdan, Marada, and Tutub.89 Important northern cities such as Gasur, where a large agricultural estate is documented,90 were likewise under royal control. The use of the Sargonic Akkadian script and language as well as of royal units of measurement, the presence of royal functionaries and members of the royal house as well as visits by the king himself, and the intensive circulation of goods and persons document the close links with the capital and the crown’s efforts and success in exercising control locally.

86. Foster 1982c:  3–​4; 1993a:  34, 36–​37; 2016:  18–​20; Michalowski 1987:  60; 2006: 174. 87. Westenholz 1999:  74; Sommerfeld 1999:  7–​13; 2003:  584–​585; 2010:  154–​155; 2012: 210–​214. 88. Foster 1993a: 28–​29; 2016: 40–​41; Wilcke 2007: 32–​35; Sallaberger 2008: 35–​37; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 106 map 8, 111 map 10. 89. Foster 1982b:  37, 40 n.  24; Westenholz 1984b:  80; 1993:  161 n.  13; 1999:  64 n. 278–​279; Glassner 1986: 12 n. 35; Sommerfeld 1999: 36; 2011c: 89. 90. On the Gasur archive see Foster 1982e; 1987; 2016: 65; Visicato 2000: 225–​231.

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The provincial administration in the south certainly worked differently, as the discussion here of the archives of the governors of Lagaš and Umma demonstrates. But how precisely these functionaries were integrated into the fabric of the Akkad state is debated. While some scholars emphasize that the Sumerian governors under Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri had local origins and assume that they were granted a considerable degree of independence,91 others highlight that they were appointed by the king and postulate that they merely administered on his behalf the provinces, which they assume were tightly integrated into the tributary state economy.92

9.4.1  The north: the archive of the governor of Tutub The archive of the governor of Tutub serves to illustrate the workings of the provincial administration in the northern parts of the realm.93 Tutub (modern Khafajah) is situated in the lower stretches of the Diyala River, roughly equidistant from the capital Akkad and the city of Kiš. The archive was excavated in a large administrative building and consists of sixty-​five mostly administrative texts from the reign of Naram-​Sin. These texts are characterized by the use of Sargonic Akkadian script and language and use the Akkad state’s typical archival practice; moreover, the people attested therein have almost exclusively Akkadian names. The archive documents a strong, permanent presence of members of the royal family and court in Tutub. One of Naram-​Sin’s sons, the prince Nabi-​Ulmaš, acted as governor and represented the highest local authority. Nabi-​Ulmaš’s daughter Lippuš-​iyaum is mentioned with the title lamentation singer (balag-​di) of the moon-​god Sin, Tutub’s principal deity, while another son of Naram-​Sin, Bin-​kali-​šarri, and Etib-​Mer,

91. Westenholz 1984b: 80; 1993: 161; 1999: 39. 92. Foster 1982d: 101–​103; 1993a: 28; 2016: 40–​41, 70–​71. 93. On the Tutub archive see Sommerfeld 1999: 29–​38; Sallaberger 2000: 113–​117; Sommerfeld 2011c: 92–​94; 2014: 164–​165; Foster 2016: 53–​54.

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the very frequently attested royal majordomo (šabra e2),94 held real estate in Tutub. The high number of personnel related to the royal court further indicates the close connections to the crown: fifty-​six singers (nar), twenty-​five cupbearers (sagi), sixteen chariot attendants (šu-​ut ĝešgigir), nine barbers (šu-​i), six throne attendants (šu-​ut ĝešgu-​za), and five messengers (lu2 kiĝ2-​gi4-​a); in addition, offerings are provided for the sun-​ god Šamaš of Akkad.95 Tutub’s close connection to the crown is also demonstrated by the fact that royal inscriptions of Rimuš, Maništusu, and Naram-​Sin were found there.96 The archive concerns the activities of a large household that employed an estimated eleven hundred persons, mainly dealing with agriculture, livestock breeding, and manufacturing. Geographically, the archive is focused on localities in the northern part of the realm, including the capital Akkad and nearby Akšak as well as Ešnunna in the Diyala region and Namzium in the Sippar region, while Lullubum in the Zagros Mountains is mentioned as the origin of cattle (gu4 lu-​lu-​bi-​imki) that were delivered as booty (nam-​ra-​ak).97 From the archive, Tutub emerges as an important outpost of the crown and the seat of a provincial administration run by a son of the king who acted as governor, with the prominent and regular presence of other members of the royal family and the royal court in the city. This role is already observed in the few archival records from Sargon’s reign.98

94. On Etib-​Mer see Foster 1980: 31; 1982a: 35–​36; 1982d: 88, 143; 2016: 43, 69, 71; Glassner 1986: 30; Michalowski 1981: 173; Sommerfeld 1999: 120; 2006: 10 n. 29; Westenholz 1987: 94–​95; 1993: 159–​160; Wilcke 2007: 32. 95. Sallaberger 2000: 115–​117; Sommerfeld 2011c: 93–​94. 96. Sommerfeld 2004: 291; 2011c: 94. 97. Sommerfeld 2011c: 92–​93; Schrakamp 2015a: 262–​263. 98. Sommerfeld 2014: 164–​165; cf. section 9.3.1.

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9.4.2  The south: the archives of the governors of Lagaš and Umma Our first example of the workings of a provincial administration in the Sumerian south is the archive of the governor of Lagaš;99 its roughly thirty-​eight hundred texts from the reigns of Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​ šarri make it the largest archive of a governor of the kingdom of Akkad, and it is only partially published.100 The archive was found at Girsu (modern Telloh), which had been the seat of the administration of Lagaš since Pre-​Sargonic times, and mainly consists of administrative texts but also includes correspondence, legal documents, and school tablets. Although there are some texts written in Sargonic Akkadian script and language,101 most of the documents are composed in Sumerian, and this language also dominates the onomasticon: 83 percent of the names are Sumerian, while only 13 percent are Akkadian.102 The governorship was held under Naram-​ Sin and Šar-​ kali-​ šarri 103 by Lugalušumgal, whose title was scribe and governor of Lagaš. His Sumerian name suggests a Sumerian origin, and he was probably related to a governor of Uruk,104 so it may be assumed that he was a member of the local ruling elite. However, he prominently advertised his loyalty to the king of Akkad in the imagery of his cylinder seals, whose inscriptions

99. On the archive of the governor of Lagaš from Girsu see Foster 1982a: 17–​18; 1982c: 11–​26; 2016: 70–​72; Westenholz 1984a: 18–​23; Visicato 2000: 124–​128; Schrakamp 2017: 104–​109. 100. Westenholz 1984a: 21–​22 n. 18; Sommerfeld 2015a: 251–​252; 2015b: 275–​276; Foster 2018: xii-​xxi. 101. Sommerfeld 2012: 210–​211. 102. Foster 1982f: 299. 103. dub-​sar ensi2 lagasx(NU11.BUR)la.ki; on Lugalušumgal see Westenholz 1974–​ 1977: 95 n. 1; 1999: 56 n. 217; Bauer 1990; Volk 1992: 22–​23; Kienast and Volk 1995:  67; Visicato 2000:  133–​134; Rohn 2011:  189 n.  1541; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 108, 110; Foster 2016: 41, 213; Schrakamp 2017: 105–​106. 104. Carroué 1994: 74 n. 83.

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Figure  9.3.  Cylinder seal of Lugalušumgal, governor of Lagaš, as reconstructed from its impressions on several clay sealings found at Girsu. Line drawing reproduced from Delaporte 1920: 12 (T 106).

refer to him as the servant (ir11) of the king (see figure 9.3);105 therefore it is likely that he was appointed after Naram-​Sin had managed to suppress the “Great Revolt” around 2230 bc, in which Lagaš had taken part.106 That the local governor was a royal official who fulfilled administrative functions on the provincial level and was answerable to the crown is also indicated by visits of the royal entourage and his frequent trips to Akkad.107 He also appears as a member of a royal delegation in the Mesag Archive (cf. section 9.5.2). The province of Lagaš was therefore in the hands of a loyal supporter of the crown with local roots. The organization controlled by the governor of Lagaš was very extensive; it administered large tracts of agricultural land,108 drew on 105. On Sargonic seals with a link to the king and the seals of Lugalušumgal in particular see Zettler 1977; Felli 2006; Rohn 2011: 203, 217–​218. 106. On the dating of Lugalušumgal and his alleged successor Puzur-​Mama, the first of a series of independent rulers of Lagaš, see most recently Sommerfeld 2015b:  272–​ 273; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b:  110, 119; Schrakamp 2017: 106 n. 35. 107. Foster 1982c: 25–​26; Schrakamp 2015a: 238–​239; 2017: 109. 108. Foster 1982a: 17–​45.

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the personnel and resources of various temples managed by temple administrators, and was able to draft at least five thousand corvée troops (surx).109 The archive covers all key aspects of economy and administration;110 it also contains a number of letter-​orders, mostly in Sargonic Akkadian script and language, sent to the governor by high-​ranking royal officials.111 Lagaš represented the administrative and economic center of a district governing large parts of Sumer.112 As one would expect due to its southeastern location, the region played a preeminent role in the Akkad state’s exchange with Iran and the Persian Gulf.113 At the same time, the documents of the governor’s archive mention numerous royal functionaries as well as messengers and dignitaries from other provinces within the kingdom of Akkad, including the governors of Elam, Ešnunna, Iri’aza, Maškan-​puša, Nippur, Umma, Ur, Uruk, and Zabala.114 The texts record both visits of the royal entourage and trips of the local governor to the capital Akkad,115 which is the most frequently attested toponym in the archive and also frequently appears as the destination of various goods being shipped.116 Archival records pertaining to the allocation of land demonstrate that the crown held extensive areas of agricultural land in Lagaš and identify the province as part of the royal tributary economy. Land was formally controlled by the governor (iš-​de3 ensi2 lagasx(NU11.BUR)la.ki); included domain land (niĝ2-​en-​na, aša5-​g ud), which covered the needs of the institution; allocated for subsistence (šuku); and distributed for

109. Visicato 2000: 129–​130 n. 114; Schrakamp 2006: 161–​163; Foster 2010. 110. See the statistics in Foster 1982c: 11; 2016: 71; Visicato 2000: 125–​127. 111. Westenholz 1993; 1999: 26 n. 44, 51; Kienast and Volk 1995: Gir 1–​9. 112. Foster 1982a: 110–​111; 1985: 28–​29; 1993b: 176; 2016: 70–​71. 113. Schrakamp 2015a: 202–​204, 237–​248; Foster 2016: 80–​82. 114. Schrakamp 2015a: 237–​238. 115. Schrakamp 2015a: 238. 116. Sommerfeld 2014: 159–​163; Schrakamp 2015a: 238–​239.

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lease (apin-​la2) to individuals and occupational groups.117 Traditionally, the right to receive institutional land was linked to the obligation to participate in corvée work,118 but some land texts (written in Sargonic Akkadian script and language and therefore originating in the royal sphere of influence) mention high-​ranking notables whose right to hold land resulted only from their close relationship with the king.119 Etib-​Mer, the well-​known royal majordomo (cf. section 9.4.1), held the largest estate, of 420 hectares.120 The ereš-​diĝir priestess of the god Ilaba (Akkad’s tutelary deity, whose cult was foreign in Lagaš) was allocated the second largest estate, of 410 hectares.121 Moreover, land texts mention a general with at least 190.5 hectares; a chief emissary (gal-​sugal7) with 128 hectares; Dada, an administrator (šabra) who is also known from Pugdan (cf. section 9.4.1), with estates of 76 hectares and 45.5 hectares, respectively; the governor of Susa with 63.5 hectares; the governor of Elam, the son of a judge, and a lu2-​EME (possibly a diviner), each with 31.5 hectares; and the governor of Ešnunna, who was identified as a son of the king (dumu lugal). Most of these persons had Akkadian names, and the size of their estates exceeded those held by the local functionaries by far. At the same time, these landholders largely correspond to the elite social group called “Sons of Akkad” in the Maništusu Obelisk (cf. section 9.3.3); they appear as members of the royal entourage in texts related to the “Royal Progress,” the journeys that king and court undertook throughout the realm in order to scrutinize and ascertain the loyalty of the local governors.122 117. Foster 1982a:  29, 34, 43–​45, 111–​112; 1982c:  12–​13; 2016:  71–​72; Schrakamp 2017: 106. 118. Powell 1978: 26–​27; Cripps 2007: 32–​45; cf. ­chapter 8. 119. De Genouillac 1921: no. 9253; Donbaz and Foster 1982: no. 32, 158; Thureau-​ Dangin 1903:  no.  143; see Foster 1982a:  19–​20, 36–​38; 1982c:  22; 1993a:  29; 2016: 39–​40, 184; Schrakamp 2017: 106–​109. 120. Foster 1982a: 35–​36, 38; 1993a: 29; 2016: 43. 121. Foster 1982a: 19–​21; 2016: 43; Visicato 2000: 128. 122. On archival records pertaining to the “Royal Progress” see Carroué 1985: 90–​ 91; Foster 1980; 1982a:  36; 1982d:  88, 143; 1993a:  28–​29; Kienast and Volk

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The evidence from the governor’s archive allows us to add to this picture. One document records the delivery of gold, cattle, and sheep to the king, queen, and various royal officials, including the royal majordomo Etib-​Mer (cf. section 9.4.1), Šarru-​tab, Beli-​qarrad, Puzur-​Sin, and Dada.123 Another text documents the delivery of food for the royal couple and about fifty members of their entourage (see figure 9.4). Since the sequence and the amount of food received clearly reflect these dignitaries’ hierarchy at the court, this document represents our most important source for the reconstruction of the organization of the inner circle of the Akkad state.124 As expected, the king and queen head the list, followed by an unnamed majordomo (perhaps Iškun-​Dagan, the powerful majordomo of Queen Tuta-​šar-​libbiš, the wife of Šar-​kali-​šarri; cf. section 9.5.2), then the aforementioned Etib-​Mer, elsewhere attested as majordomo; the three dignitaries named Šarru-​tab, Beli-​qarrad, and Puzur-​Sin previously mentioned; the majordomo Dada; six generals; twelve judges; Ilum-​dan, a well-​known conscription officer (šu-​gal5-​la-​um); Sikkur-​kin, who is known from the Maškan-​ili-​Akkad archive (cf. section 9.5.2); and numerous other functionaries of the royal court, including a lu2-​EME (possibly a diviner), a subordinate of a majordomo, and a captain of the barbers (NU-​banda3 šu-​i). This text serves to unequivocally identify the individuals who held land in the province of Lagaš without the obligation to provide corvée labor as some of the highest ranking members of the royal court, indicating that the king controlled huge areas of agricultural land in the province of Lagaš that he could freely allocate to his supporters.

1995:  76–​77; Michalowski 1981:  173; Sallaberger 1997:  150–​151; Schrakamp 2017: 107; Sommerfeld 2006: 9–​10; Steinkeller 1992: 56–​57; Visicato 2000: 128; 2001; Volk 1992; Westenholz 1987: 94–​96; 2004: 602; Yang 1989: 215–​216. 123. On Šarru-​tab, Beli-​qarrad, and Puzur-​Sin see Foster 1980: 31; Kienast and Volk 1995: 77; Sommerfeld 2006: 10 n. 26; Schrakamp 2017: 107. 124. Sollberger 1972: no. 172 = Westenholz 2014: no. 174; see Sommerfeld 2006: 9–​ 10; Schrakamp 2017: 107; cf. the references given above in n. 122.

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Figure  9.4.  List of expenditures on foodstuffs provided to the royal couple and members of the royal entourage, from the governor’s archive at Girsu. Written in the elaborate Classical Sargonic writing ductus, this list is the most detailed document of its kind. The amounts and the sequence in which the food is recorded reflect the rank and status of the recipients, from king and queen to majordomo, several generals and judges, to the lower ranks of the court. British Museum, Department of the Middle East, BM 86273. Photos by Aage Westenholz.

Among the local officials, only the temple administrator of the goddess NinMAR.KI and the temple administrator of the Ebabbar temple held sizable estates, of 381 hectares and 127 hectares, respectively.125 In view of the aforementioned huge estate of the ereš-​diĝir priestess of the god Ilaba, one might assume that high-​ranking temple personnel generally were entitled to receive especially large estates,126 but as the ereš-​diĝir priestess certainly belonged to the king’s inner circle and perhaps even to

125. Donbaz and Foster 1981: no. 4; see Foster 1982a: 21, 37–​38; 2016: 71–​72. 126. Foster 1982a: 38.

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his immediate family, it is more likely that these two temple administrators were the beneficiaries of royal patronage specifically directed toward themselves.127 A unique royal land purchase document from the same archive confirms this assumption.128 It records that Šar-​kali-​šarri purchased an estate of 762 hectares (i.e., 2,160 iku) and names, along with scribes and cadastral officials (sa12-​du5), the temple administrators of the goddesses Nanše and NinMAR.KI and of the Ebabbar temple of the god Utu as the recipients of a payment equivalent to the very substantial sum of 37.5 kg of silver (paid in kind in grain and wool).129 Despite their managerial function,130 temple administrators had no right whatsoever to sell temple-​owned land, which was regarded as divine property (see ­chapter 8). Although the low price of 2.1 shekels of silver per iku land is at first suggestive of a forced sale, the large size of the estate sold here by the temple administrators is locally only matched by the parcels of land held by the highest ranking royal officials, and this indicates that the transaction recorded here served to disguise and at the same time legalize a bribe that the king paid to these local functionaries.131 The use of the Sargonic Akkadian script and language as well as of royal units of measurement (gur A-​ga-​de3) clearly identifies the land purchase and this document as an interference by the king at the interface of provincial and royal administration.132 At the same time, this document and the one discussed previously also demonstrate that the king’s patronage network

127. Schrakamp 2017: 107. 128. Royal land purchases were not that uncommon in Sumer (Gelb et al. 1991: 25–​ 26; Steinkeller 1999a: 556–​558), usually as expropriations of property managed by the temples on behalf of the divine masters:  Neumann 1992:  243–​244; Foster 2016: 90–​92. 129. On this important document see Steinkeller 1999a:  555–​556; see also Foster 1982a: 29–​30; 1993a: 29; 1994: 444; 2011: 130; 2016: 23; Visicato 2000: 140. 130. Kienast and Volk 1995: Gir 23; see Foster 1982a: 28–​29. 131. Steinkeller 1999a: 556, 558. 132. Foster 1982a: 29; 1999–​2000: 254; Steinkeller 1999a: 555 n. 9.

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strove to integrate members of the local clergy, perhaps in connection with the appointment of royal daughters as high priestesses.133 Further land texts also refer to subsistence land of the governor (aša5 šuku ensi2-​ka) and testify to the allocation of much smaller parcels of land to local soldiers (aga3-​us2) and corvée troops (surx) as well as to professional groups such as fishermen, herdsmen, and brewers, who were given this land in exchange for their corvée obligation.134 An exceptional case is the allocation of 190.5 hectares of land to “royal builders” (šidim lugal-​me), possibly in connection with a royal building project.135 Especially noteworthy is the allocation of an estate of 514.5 hectares (i.e., 1,458 iku) to a group of people collectively called nisqū (written ni-​ is-​ku),136 whose Sumerian personal names suggest that they were part of the local population. They were provisioned with food and drafted for public work and military service along with local corvée troops, but the archival records otherwise strictly distinguish between these two groups. The term nisqū is a loan word from the Sargonic Akkadian administrative language that means “chosen (people).”137 “Chosen ones” are attested as bailiffs in court, in managerial functions in agricultural contexts, and as owners of cattle and slaves, and they clearly enjoyed relative wealth and a correspondingly elevated status in the community. The nisqū were deployed together with the royal soldiers (aga3-​us2 lugal);138 a letter-​order in Sargonic Akkadian script and language that a high-​ ranking Sargonic official, perhaps even the king himself, addressed to another official reports troop movements of an armed force of nisqū.139 Land texts from Umma further demonstrate that “Chosen ones” were

133. Schrakamp 2017: 108. 134. Foster 1982a: 19–​23, 34; 2016: 71. 135. Foster 1982a: 21; Schrakamp 2017: 107. 136. Foster 1982a: 20; Schrakamp 2017: 109. 137. Schrakamp 2010: 143–​144. 138. Schrakamp 2010: 27–​28,  31–​32. 139. Kienast and Volk 1995: Gir 37; cf. Westenholz 1993: 158–​159; Markina 2010.

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allocated more land from the royal domain (ki lugal) than the local corvée troops (cf. later in this section). Thus, the nisqū were a social group rooted within local society who played a prominent role in the military of the Akkad state, owed their allegiance directly to the king, and were rewarded with relative wealth and status based on the allocation of land from the royal domain.140 This shows that the royal patronage network also included local people beyond the members of the local ruling elites, crucially involving them in the military organization of the realm.141 The archive of the governor (ensi2) of Umma, which dates to the reign of Šar-​kali-​šarri,142 serves as our second example for the workings of a provincial administration in the Sumerian south. At the time of Šar-​ kali-​šarri, the institution was headed by Mesag, the scribe and governor of Umma. As discussed further in section 9.5.2, this same man had previously held the title of scribe and cadastral official (dub-​sar sa12-​du5) and administered an estate with close links to the crown in the province of Lagaš during the reign of Naram-​Sin. The province of Umma was therefore run by a man with a proven track record as a loyal supporter of the crown. The governor’s archive consists of some 270 administrative texts plus a few letters and legal documents. Most texts are written in Sumerian. The proportion of texts in Sargonic Akkadian (estimated at 2.5  percent) is significantly lower than the proportion of Akkadian personal names (26  percent),143 while 68  percent of names can be identified as Sumerian.144 The texts are dated according to local conventions with 140. On the term nisqū see Schrakamp 2010: 143–​151 with a discussion of references from several other archives; 2017: 108–​109; cf. Foster 1981; 1982d: 85; 1986b: 50; 2016: 40. After the Sargonic period, there is only one more reference to nisqū in the “Laws of Urnamma” of the founder of the kingdom of Ur (cf. c­ hapter 13 in volume 2): Wilcke 2002: 306–​307 n. 54; 2007: 50. The king of Ur claims to have abolished the nisqū who were in control of fields and canals, which further underlines their previously important position and status in society. 141. Schrakamp 2017: 109. 142. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 38–​40; Schrakamp 2015a: 266. 143. Foster 1982d: 80, 135–​136; Westenholz 1984b: 78–​80. 144. Foster 1982f: 299.

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mu-​iti dates (cf. section 9.3.1.) and use local capacity measures such as the “Sumerian sila” (sila3 eme-​gi7) and the “DUL3 kor” (gur-​saĝ-​ĝal2 DUL3), as well as local sign forms,145 all testifying to a continuation of the local archival practices. The texts mainly deal with the administration of land, grain, livestock, personnel, and provisions.146 Land texts demonstrate that the province of Umma was closely integrated into the state economy of the kingdom of Akkad.147 They mention domain land (aša5 gud), which served the needs of the provincial administration, and king’s land (ki lugal), which was allocated for lease (ki lugal apin-​la2) and for subsistence (ki lugal zi-​ga), as well as royal plowmen (saĝ apin lugal-​ke4-​ne), whose arrears were balanced by the governor.148 In addition, the land texts record allocations of land to supporters of the crown. The most extensive estates were parceled out to Etib-​Mer, well-​attested in archives across the realm as the royal majordomo, who as already mentioned held large areas of agricultural land in the province of Lagaš. One of the documents records the surveying of 444.5 hectares of agricultural land for Etib-​Mer, while a partly parallel text mentions land totaling 647.75 hectares and 1333.5 hectares, respectively.149 Importantly, this document is one of the very few Sargonic Akkadian texts in this archive. It is equally significant that the subscript refers to Mesag, the

145. Foster 1982a:  80–​ 81; 1982d:  4–​ 5; Steinkeller 1987:  190; Schrakamp 2013: 146–​147,  150. 146. On the “Mu-​iti C Archive” see Cripps 2010:  10–​26; Foster 1982a:  69–​83; 1982d:  79–​148; 1993b:  175–​176; 2016:  69–​70; Schrakamp 2015a:  266–​269; 2017: 109–​112; Visicato 2000: 111–​112; Westenholz 1984a: 19–​20; 1984b: 78–​80. 147. Foster 1982a: 69–​84; 1982d: 81–​89; Cripps 2010: 16–​18. 148. See the discussion in Foster 1982a: 78, 80–​82, 111; 1982d: 86, 89, 147; Westenholz 1984b: 78; Cripps 2010: 36, 46–​48; Schrakamp 2013: 147. Note that there are also references to “the king’s land” from the Pre-​Sargonic period that demonstrate that already Lugalzagesi, king of Uruk, allocated temple-​owned fields in Umma to governors and dignitaries from Adab, Nippur, and Uruk who supported him: Schrakamp 2017: 110 (with references). 149. Foster 1982a: 36; 1982d: 88, 143; 2016: 69. Foster attributes this text to the archive of the governor of Lagaš while others argue for its origin in Umma: Westenholz 1984b: 78 n. 12; Visicato 2000: 113 n. 57.

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governor, but that the field survey was carried out by a royal scribe. This not only confirms that the crown controlled extensive landed property in Umma but also characterizes the allocation of such land as royal interference in the provincial administration and further demonstrates that the governor of Umma was subordinate to higher-​ranking royal officials from outside.150 The latter fact is also indicated by a unique document that records expenditures of 110,000 liters of grain, 6,600 liters of fish, and 630 liters of oil for the contingent of a general that included hundreds of male and female workers (ĝuruš, geme2), dozens of platoon leaders (ugula), several captains (NU-​banda3), a conscription officer (šu-​gal5:la), several scribes, an emissary (sugal7-​kas4), a lu2-​EME (possibly a diviner), and other personnel. While some scholars assume that the governor had provided sustenance for a military contingent that was passing through, others argue for a connection with a royal building project such as Naram-​Sin’s temple at Nippur, which likewise involved a general managing huge numbers of workers whom the local governor had to supply with food (see section 9.4.3).151 Expenditures of processed food mention very similar occupational groups, officials, and probably the same general.152 Together, these documents feature the highest proportion of Akkadian names attested in this archive,153 are dated according to the Akkadian calendar,154 and use royal units of measurement such as the “Akkadian sila” and “Akkadian

150. Fish 1932:  no.  18  =  Foster 1982g:  459, 472 no.  18 (with collations); on this important document see Foster 1982a: 79; 1982d: 88; Westenholz 1984b: 78–​ 80; Cripps 2010: 17; Schrakamp 2017: 112. 151. Foster 1982d:  98–​100; 1993a:  26; Cripps 2010:  18–​22, 93–​95; Schrakamp 2013: 157. 152. On the much-​discussed function and context of these documents see Foster 1982d:  110–​ 116; 1993c:  445; Molina 1991:  139–​ 141; Steinkeller 1992:  51; Westenholz 1995: 536. 153. Cripps 2010: 21. 154. Schrakamp 2017: 112 n. 45.

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kor” (sila3 A-​ga-​de3ki, gur A-​ga-​de3ki) instead of local ones,155 so they were clearly composed within the royal sphere of authority. The subordinate role of the governor is further evidenced by a handful of archival records and letter-​orders written in Sargonic Akkadian. In a letter-​order, an unnamed majordomo (perhaps the well known Etib-​ Mer) instructs Mesag to provide the representatives of an Akkadian official with dairy products,156 and another document records the shipment of 583,200 liters of barley authorized by an administrator (šabra).157 Finally, a group of texts that represent the most elaborate instances of Sargonic Akkadian writing in the entire archive record the issue of precious items including gold, silver, and bronze objects; high-​quality textiles; fattened cattle; and other luxury items to members of the royal entourage on the occasion of a royal visit.158 Thus, the archives of the governors of Lagaš and Umma demonstrate that the provinces were firmly integrated into the state economy of the kingdom of Akkad. They were administered by governors who originated in the local literate elite (hence routinely designated as scribes) but as loyal supporters of the king had been successfully integrated into the royal patronage network. On a provincial level, they acted as the highest royal administrators, while within the state hierarchy they were answerable to higher-​ranking royal officials outside of the provincial system. A characteristic feature of their archives is the coexistence of local administrative practice with obvious interference from the royal administration, which is particularly evident in the administration of agricultural land, obligations to deliver goods to the crown, and the mobilization

155. Foster 1982d: 6, 102, 107, 147; Westenholz 1984b: 80. 156. Kienast and Volk 1995: Um 2; see Westenholz 1984b: 78; for the correspondence of Mesag see also Kienast and Volk 1995:  Um 1, 3; Catagnoti 2003; Keetman 2014; Robson and Zólyomi 2014. 157. Foster 1982d: 90–​91; Westenholz 1984b: 80. 158. Sollberger 1972:  no.  52; Cripps 2010:  no.  41–​42; see Foster 1980:  36–​37; 1982d:  5, 143; Cripps 2010:  13, 113–​118; Schrakamp 2013:  159–​160; 2017:  112; on the dating of these documents see Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 38–​39; Foster 2016: 73.

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of corvée troops for public work and military service. The later poem “Curse over Akkad” preserves a surprisingly fitting literary reminiscence, stating that under Sargonic rule, the governors, temple administrators, and cadastral officials had to send taxes to Akkad.159

9.4.3  Further archives from the southern provinces A third important governor’s archive from the south is from Adab. It comes from a well-​documented excavation in Mound IV,160 but since it essentially displays the same characteristics as the previously discussed archives from Girsu and Umma, another group of texts from Adab, found in a residential area on Mound III that the excavators dubbed the “Semitic Quarter,”161 is discussed here instead. Unlike most of the documents from the governors’ archives, these texts are routinely written in Sargonic Akkadian script and language and feature people with mostly Akkadian names as well as a wide geographical horizon. Notably, the texts include a Sargonic Akkadian letter-​order sent by Iškun-​Dagan, the scribe and majordomo of Šar-​kali-​šarri’s queen Tuta-​šar-​libbiš (cf. section 9.5.2); archival records mentioning royal servants; and the sealings of two scribes and servants of the kings Naram-​ Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri and another of Išar-​beli, who served under queen Tuta-​šar-​libbiš as “scribe, majordomo and her servant” (dub-​sar šabra e2-​ti-​sa ir11-​za).162 Although no notable relations to the local administration are discernible, the people operating in the Semitic Quarter were

159. Foster 2011: 130; Schrakamp 2017: 103. 160. On this archive see Foster 1982a:  84–​85; 2016:  66–​68; Yang 1989; Visicato 2000:  176–​177; Wilson 2012:  65–​74; Schrakamp 2015a:  223–​224; Molina 2019: 427–​428, 451–​458. 161. Wilson 2012: 53–​63. On the interpretation as a residential area see Milano and Westenholz 2015: 24 n. 23. 162. For a characterization of the texts from the “Semitic Quarter” see Yang 1989:  122, 270–​271; Westenholz 1993:  159; Kienast and Volk 1995:  53–​55; Wilson 2012:  53–​63; Keetman 2014; Milano and Westenholz 2015:  24–​25; Foster 2016: 67–​68; Schrakamp 2017: 102 n. 31; Such-​Gutiérrez 2018: 133–​134.

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clearly embedded in a supraregional network that included a number of high-​ranking royal officials.163 The city of Nippur housed the Ekur, the temple of Enlil and most important sanctuary of Sumer, and was thus given a preeminent status that is already obvious in texts from the reign of Sargon (cf. section 9.3.1).164 The following paragraphs discuss two Classical Sargonic archives from Nippur. The “Onion Archive” is dated to the reigns of Naram-​Sin and Šar-​ kal-​šarri and includes some 110 administrative texts written in a local Sumerian dialect and writing style. Its texts originated in an institution led by the local governor. The archive dealt with the cultivation and distribution of onions, which were issued as a delicacy to high-​ranking notables and more widely to other people on special occasions.165 Regular deliveries of onions were issued to local institutions and officials, including the god Ninurta and the “governor’s table” (pansur ensi2). In addition, onions were issued to the governor, cupbearers (sagi), and a steward (ugula e2) on the occasion of their trips to the capital Akkad. The archive also mentions a large number of high-​ranking royal officials as recipients of onions, including the majordomo Šuaš-​takal and the general Ilšu-​qarrad,166 who were involved in Naram-​Sin’s temple building at Nippur (cf. section 9.3.4); Naḫšum-​šanat, the majordomo of the workshop (šabra e2 ĝeš-​kiĝ2-​ti), who is known from the governor of Lagaš’s archive in Girsu as well as Maškan-​ili-​Akkad; other well-​known and highly mobile members of the royal court, such as Etib-​Mer, the conscription officer (šu-​gal5-​la-​um) Ilum-​dan, Beli-​qarrad, and Puzur-​Sin, all of whom have been mentioned previously as members of the king’s entourage; and various notables from places in the Diyala area and Isin, Umma, and Lagaš.167 Additional disbursements of onions were made on the occasion of Naram-​Sin’s daughter Tuṭṭanab-​šum’s installation as 163. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 27; cf. Schrakamp 2017: 102 n. 31. 164. Sallaberger 1997; Westenholz 1999: 60–​65; cf. section 9.3.1. 165. On the “Onion Archive” see Westenholz 1987: 87–​98; 1999: 60–​62; Visicato 2000: 196–​198; Foster 2016: 66; Schrakamp 2017: 112–​113. 166. On Šuaš-​takal see Westenholz 1987: 55, 94–​95; Molina 2014: 82. 167. Westenholz 1987: 93–​94; Schrakamp 2015a: 253–​254; 2017: 112–​113.

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high priestess, the marriage of a prince, and a visit of the king. Finally, the archive records deliveries for “the king’s table” (pansur lugal) and for the royal palace (e2-​gal; e2 lugal; e2 lugal šumun2; e2 nin). The “Onion Archive” thus not only testifies to Nippur’s integration in a far-​flung network that included the highest ranking members of the royal family and court and to the occasional presence of royal dignitaries in the city, but also documents the permanent presence of certain members of the royal family and their representatives. A second example is the “Akkadian Archive” from Nippur, which originated in the organization that managed the rebuilding of the Ekur, Enlil’s temple at Nippur,168 in the aftermath of the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin ca. 2230 bc (cf. section 9.3.4). The archive consists of about forty administrative texts found in a secondary context in the Ekur precinct and dates to the reigns of Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri; its texts are characterized by the use of the Sargonic Akkadian language and script as well as the royal units of measurement and the Akkadian instead of the local Nippur calendar, thus indicating that they originated in the royal sphere of influence.169 The archive was administered by the then-​crown prince Šar-​kali-​ šarri and Šuaš-​takal, the royal majordomo, and involved several generals, including Puzur-​Eštar (cf. section 9.5.2), as well as a garrison of soldiers (aga3-​us2). Four hundred blacksmiths (si7), goldsmiths (ku3-​dim2), joiners (DUB.NAGAR), sculptors (bur-​g ul), and carpenters (nagar) were employed in a workshop (ĝeš-​kiĝ2-​ti) that was possibly directed by the above-​mentioned Nahšum-​šanat, mobilizing workers from Sippar, Kiš, and Zabala (or Ur) and supported by huge shipments of grain from cities such as Marada.170 The specialized craftsmen usually worked under Akkadian foremen and processed hundreds of kilograms of gold and

168. On the dating of this archive after the “Great Revolt” see Steinkeller 1993b: 142; Franke 1995: 165; Westenholz 1999: 52 n. 181; 2000: 553–​555. 169. On the “Akkadian Archive” see Westenholz 1987:  21–​24; 1999:  61; Visicato 2000: 193–​194; Such-​Gutiérrez 2003: 37–​48; Foster 2016: 15–​16; Schrakamp 2017: 113–​115. 170. Schrakamp 2015a: 255.

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silver and tons of copper into figurative decorations;171 the archival records mention shipments of 29 kg gold and 180 kg silver and thirty deliveries of 20 tons of copper each.172 The archive testifies to the presence of further royal officials at Nippur, including the general Ilšu-​qarrad and some unspecified servants of the king (ir11 lugal). The only local official mentioned is Irinabadbi, the temple administrator. He was appointed by the king after the “Great Revolt” and called himself servant of Naram-​Sin in his inscriptions.173 Ranking behind the majordomo Šuaš-​takal, he ensured the supply of the workforce at the expense of the Ekur temple. The “Akkadian Archive” thus documents how the royal administration managed a local royal building project, using enormous resources from the royal treasure in the process and recruiting workers from the whole kingdom, while the local administration was charged with supplying their sustenance and maintenance (cf. previously in this section). The “Onion Archive” and the “Akkadian Archive” demonstrate that the kings of Akkad credited Nippur with special status, clearly a result of its role as the cult center of Enlil, the supreme god of Sumer and Akkad.174 In line with their claim to rule over the entire Mesopotamian Plain, whose hegemons traditionally offered their sacrifices at Enlil’s temple at Nippur, the kings of Akkad erected their statues in the sanctuary, and Rimuš reports the dedication of 15 kg of gold, 1,800 kg of copper, and three hundred slaves as well as stone vessels from his spoils of war.175 The fact that the kings of Akkad felt obliged to provide offerings for the Enlil temple, and moreover offerings on an enormous scale, reflects not only the god’s elevated rank among the Mesopotamian deities but also the deliberate promotion of Enlil to a deity of state (German

171. Westenholz 1987: 24–​27; Durand 1993. 172. Westenholz 1975b: 37–​38; 1987: 25 173. On Irinabadbi see Glassner 1986:  13; Westenholz 1987:  55–​56; Steinkeller 1993b: 142 n. 2; Such-​Gutiérrez 2003: 44; Schrakamp 2017: 114. 174. Sallaberger 1997: 150; cf. Westenholz 2002: 33. 175. Sallaberger 1997: 148–​149; Such-​Gutiérrez 2003: 41, 43–​44.

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“Reichsgott”) in line with the rise of Akkad to a territorial kingdom, emphasizing the kings’ divinely supported claim to hegemonic power over the local elites.176 That the poem “Curse over Akkad,” with its prominent anti-​Akkadian agenda, later recasts Naram-​Sin’s rebuilding of the Ekur temple in Nippur as an act of wanton destruction is today interpreted as a reaction to the loss of power that Sargonic rule meant for the local clergy (cf. also section 9.6).177

9.5.  Allocating crown land to supporters of the crown In the Akkadian heartland in the north of the Mesopotamian Plain, there is clear evidence that by the time of Naram-​Sin, vast agricultural estates were routinely held by members of the royal house, who allocated some of that land to other functionaries of the Akkadian administrative and military elite.

9.5.1  In the Akkadian heartland The best example comes from Pugdan (modern Umm el-​Jir), a site near Kiš. An archive of some forty-​five mostly administrative texts dated to the reign of Naram-​Sin documents the running of a large agricultural estate,178 mostly concerned with barley (expenditures, deliveries, loans) and animal husbandry. There is a handful of texts pertaining to the administration of land, notably characterized by Sargonic writing.179 The estate included at least 1,042.5 hectares (i.e., 2,955 iku) located at the Kiškattum canal between Kiš and Cutha.180 The land was held by a governor and

176. Sallaberger 1997: 152. 177. Liverani 1993b: 56–​59; Westenholz 1999: 55. 178. On the Pugdan archive see Foster 1982b; 1983a; 2016:  59–​60; Steinkeller 1993a: 122–​123 n. 41; Visicato 2000: 209–​212; Schrakamp 2017: 96–​97. 179. Foster 1982b: 10, 35–​36; 1983a: 173. 180. Schrakamp 2015a: 249–​250.

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prince (dumu lugal, “the king’s son”) called Šu-​Migri. References to crown land (ĝešapin lugal) controlled by royal agents (maškim lugal) and to (royal) plowmen (engar; engar lugal) further emphasize the involvement of the royal administration. Profits, which were in turn paid to the crown, were made in the form of crop yields (barley measured according to the “Akkadian kor”:  gur A-​ ga-​de3ki) but also in the form of rent payments in silver, as part of the land was allocated to members of the royal court and the state administration. These arrangements were overseen by Kinu-​mupi, a governor. The largest land parcel of 317.5 hectares (i.e., 900 iku) was held by a servant of the queen named Dada, who is well attested as an administrator in various contemporary archives. As a member of the royal entourage, he accompanied the king on his journeys through the realm and was one of his highest ranking officials, also holding extensive estates in the province of Lagaš (see section 9.4.3).181 Another majordomo and an administrator held sizable plots of 95.25 hectares (i.e., 270 iku) and 76 hectares (i.e., 216 iku), respectively, while two notables mentioned without titles held 51 hectares (i.e., 144 iku) and 19 hectares (i.e., 54 iku), respectively. Military personnel including captains and soldiers and local professional groups including blacksmiths (si7) and herdsmen (sipa) were given much smaller parcels of land, ranging between 4.25 and 8.5 hectares (i.e., 12–​24 iku).182 Another example of a vast agricultural estate in the hands of a member of the royal family is documented at Kiš itself. Some seventy archival records in Sargonic Akkadian script and language183 were excavated in a building that is thought to have housed the administration of the local

181. On Dada see Foster 1980:  31, 36; Glassner 1986:  30; Westenholz 1987:  95; Kienast and Volk 1995: 88; Sommerfeld 2006: 10 n. 26; Weiershäuser 2008: 196; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 25. 182. Foster 1982b: 14–​15. 183. On these texts see Glassner 1986: 43; Steinkeller 1993a: 122–​123 n. 41; Visicato 2000: 206–​208; Foster 2016: 57–​59; Schrakamp 2015a: 235–​236; 2017: 97.

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governor.184 Added together, the land mentioned in these texts amounts to 1,126 hectares (i.e., 3,312 iku). This large estate was concerned with agriculture and animal husbandry and headed by Saratigubisin, another “son of the king” and most likely Šar-​kali-​šarri’s heir apparent, who may well have served as governor of Kiš.185 The running of the estate was managed by his subordinate cadastral officials and administrators, who organized several hundred workers. A further northern estate controlled by a member of the royal family was a parcel of land of 647 hectares whose allocation to a high priestess of the goddess Inana, most likely a daughter of the king, is recorded on a document of unfortunately unclear provenance.186

9.5.2  In the Sumerian south Agricultural estates such as these, with close ties to the crown, existed not only in the traditional Akkadian heartland in the north but also in the Sumerian south, as three archives document in some detail.187 Two archives come from sites in the hinterland of the southeastern province of Lagaš, while another is from the region of Nippur in the center of the Mesopotamian Plain. They share several features that help to distinguish them from the contemporary archives of governors (cf. section 9.4.2): their location in the hinterlands of the provincial centers,188 the use of the Sargonic Akkadian script and language in equal measure to or 184. Gibson 1972: 118–​121. Westenholz 1999: 64 argued that the scattered findspots of the tablets point at private archives, but this is difficult to reconcile with the contents of the texts. 185. On Saratigubisin see Glassner 1986:  43–​ 44, 50; Westenholz 2011a:  35; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 127. Pomponio 2011: 233 n. 30 and Steinkeller 2011: 18; 2015: 284 considered Saratigubisin to be a (much later) Gutean prince, but their implied dating (cf. Kienast and Volk 1995:  147) disagrees with the context of the archive, its linguistic features, and the palaeographic dating. 186. Foster 1982a: 107–​108; Schrakamp 2017: 97 n. 20. 187. Foster 1982c: 24; 1993a: 30; Westenholz 1984b: 81; 1995: 536; 1999: 50 n. 167; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 23–​27; Schrakamp 2017: 97–​104. 188. Foster 1993c: 444; Westenholz 1995: 536.

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even more than Sumerian,189 the combined use of local and royal measurements and administrative practices,190 and the almost complete lack of references pertaining to the cult. The “Mesag Archive” comprises about 600 texts, 150 of which are published.191 It is dated to the reign of Naram-​Sin.192 It probably originates from Saĝub in the hinterland of Lagaš.193 It includes a large number of texts in Sargonic Akkadian script and language as well as a comparable number of tablets in a mix of Akkadian and Sumerian language (with fully conjugated verbal forms in both languages). The archive documents a large, self-​sufficient agricultural estate led by Mesag, a scribe and cadastral official who later became governor of Umma.194 Mesag was allocated at least 1,270 hectares of land. One-​third was subsistence land (aša5 šuku), meant to provide for his personal subsistence by earning him income from yields and rental payments, while the other two-​thirds were described as purchased fields (aša5 sa10-​a), which denotes crown land that he held on the basis of cash purchase or land

189. Westenholz 1995: 536. 190. Foster 1982c: 22–​25; 1983b; 1986a: 113–​115; 1986b: 46–​49. 191. On the Mesag Archive see Bridges 1981:  426–​444; Foster 1982a:  52–​69; 1986a:  110–​ 115; 2000:  314–​ 316; 2016:  72–​ 73; Salgues 2011; Schrakamp 2017: 98–​99. 192. Salgues 2011: 253–​254, 259–​260; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​40. 193. Steinkeller 1992:  8–​10 did not only consider Saĝub the locus of the archive, but also that the archive was part of that of the governor of Umma. But as the texts of this archive are written almost exclusively in Sumerian, have mu-​iti datings, and date from the time of Šar-​kali-​šarri instead of Naram-​Sin, this can be excluded; see Salgues 2011: 253–​254 n. 3; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 26 n. 29; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 39–​40; Schrakamp 2017: 98 n. 21. 194. Since the head of the rural estate is always referred to as scribe and cadastral official, whereas the homonymous head of the provincial administration of Umma is normally only referred to as governor, their possible identity was long debated; see Markina 2012:  169. But an archival record from the governor’s archive mentions “Mesag, scribe (and) governor of Umma” ([me]-​sag2 dub-​sar ensi2 ummaki; collated by E. Salgues), and this demonstrates that it is the same man; see Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 40 n. 147.

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lease.195 His fields were cultivated by plowmen (engar), and references to new fields (aša5 gibil) and the cleaning of canals (i7-​da al—​du3) indicate that Mesag was responsible for canal maintenance and development of new arable land.196 From this estate, Mesag parceled out fields to his household personnel, which according to a roster list included at least 178 persons, mostly men. These were employed in agriculture, livestock breeding, fishing, manufacturing, and administration. As 81  percent of these people had Sumerian names, whereas only 13  percent represent Akkadian anthroponyms, the estate was clearly rooted in a Sumerian social milieu.197 This agrees with both with its location in Lagaš province in the southeast of Sumer and with the fact that the Sargonic Akkadian used in the texts of this archive occasionally shows indications of imperfect second-​language learning, obviously as a result of its introduction as an administrative language.198 With this background, the high percentage of mixed-​ language texts could indicate that Mesag’s estate represents an early phase in the administrative and economic reorganization of the Sumerian south.199 Besides Sargonic writing and archival practice, the close connection to the crown is indicated by direct shipments of grain to the city of Akkad,200 by the presence of royal officials,201 and especially by the visit of a royal delegation headed by the

195. Foster 1982a: 57–​58; 1982c: 23 n. 35; 1986a: 111; 2011: 129–​130; 2016: 72; Salgues 2011: 254 with n. 6. For an interpretation as “purchased land” see Foster 2016: 72; for “leased land” see Foster 1982a: 58; 1982b: 21; Renger 1995: 274 n. 15. 196. Bridges 1981:  82; Foster 2016:  87 n.  130. The anonymous date formula “Year when the canal of the steppe was dug” hardly refers to Mesag’s own activities, cf. Bridges 1981: 19, 234. 197. Foster 1982f: 299. 198. Woods 2006: 93–​94; Markina 2012: 172; Sommerfeld 2012: 210–​212, 214. 199. Markina 2012: 172. 200. Foster 1982a: 69; 1986a: 120–​121; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 26; Schrakamp 2015a: 255–​256. 201. Foster 1986b: 49–​50; 2016: 55–​56; Salgues 2011: 260 n. 45. Whether bad3-​mu-​ bi2 dub-​sar ir11 ru-​ba-​tim refers to “Dur-​mupi, scribe and servant of the queen”

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king,202 which included several sons of the king; envoys from the northern city Gasur (cf. section 9.4), later Nuzi (modern Yorghan Tepe) and the southern cities Umma and Uruk;203 and Lugalušumgal, Naram-​Sin’s governor of Lagaš (cf. section 9.4.2). The archive also documents that Mesag himself frequently traveled to Akkad,204 as well as Al-​šarraki and A.HAki,205 and refers to shipments of grain to and from the cities Adab, E’igi’il,206 and Zabala. With regard to its management and administration, Mesag’s estate is closely comparable to the already discussed northern estate at Pugdan (see section 9.5.1).207 But while the Pugdan estate was controlled by a member of the royal house, here it was a local scribe who had been successfully integrated into the royal patronage network and its web of loyalties and dependencies by the allocation of crown land in the Sumerian south. The estate was largely independent of the nearby provincial administrations of Lagaš and Umma, and Mesag was directly answerable to the king. Establishing such an estate therefore represents the imposition of northern organizational features into the Akkad state’s southern holdings and constitutes a new and intrusive element in the traditional socioeconomic fabric of Sumer, clearly designed to strengthen the influence of the crown.208

or merely to “Dur-​mupi, scribe and servant of Rubatum” remains unclear; see Weiershäuser 2008: 197; Rohn 2011: 126 n. 1117. 202. Volk 1992: 23–​24; Schrakamp 2017: 99. 203. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 26 n. 34; Schrakamp 2017: 99 n. 23. 204. Bridges 1981: 17–​18; Schrakamp 2015a: 255–​256. 205. There are at least two distinct settlements called A.HAki; see Schrakamp 2015a: 198 n. 15. For A.HAki, perhaps Kharaib Ghdairife in the north, see Al-​ Rawi and Black 1993; Sommerfeld 2014: 154–​155, 172–​173. 206. For the possible location at the small settlement of E’igi’il see Farber 1975: 119–​ 121; Foster 1989: 158 n. 11. 207. Bridges 1981: 443. 208. Bridges 1981: 432; Schrakamp 2017: 99.

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Mesag’s estate may have been part of a much larger estate if a tablet with a land survey by a cadastral official is correctly attributed to the archive, which is not certain. This survey records a total of 6,236 hectares (i.e., 17,676 iku) of agricultural land, almost twice as much as the estate in the Maništusu Obelisk (see section 9.3.3) and five times more than Mesag’s estate. Whether this text is directly connected to Mesag’s archive or not, the document clearly indicates that the kings of Akkad established numerous such estates in the Sumerian south.209 Another of these southern estates is documented by the “Lugalra Archive,” which dates to the reign of Naram-​Sin’s son Šar-​kali-​šarri and includes about one hundred texts.210 They are written in Sargonic Akkadian and Sumerian; occasionally use royal units of measurement such as the “Akkadian sila” (sila3 A-​ga-​deki); and document the running of an estate in the rural hinterland of Lagaš that engaged in agriculture, livestock breeding, and fishing. Field texts mention at least 114.5 hectares (i.e., 324 iku) of domain land (aša5 gud) under the cultivation of farmers (engar) who had fixed obligations and were allocated fields for subsistence (aša5 šuku) and lease (apin-​la2; maš2 aša5-​ga).211 The estate was managed by Lugalra, scribe and cadastral official of the queen,212 who was in close communication with several high-​ ranking members of the royal court. One of Lugalra’s contacts was Iškun-​Dagan—​the scribe and majordomo of Queen Tuta-​šar-​libbiš, the wife of Šar-​kali-​šarri—​one of the most important royal officials of the time (see figure 9.5),213 who in a harshly phrased letter-​order instructs 209. Hackman 1958: no. 198; see Bridges 1981: 102; Foster 1982a: 57, 63; 1985: 26–​27 n. 19; 2011: 129–​130; Visicato 2000: 102; Salgues 2011: 253 n. 3. 210. On the Lugalra archive see Limet 1973: 13–​21; Foster 1982a: 45–​52; 2016: 41; Westenholz 2014:  148; Milano and Westenholz 2015:  25; Schrakamp 2017: 99–​100. 211. Schrakamp 2017: 99 with n. 26. 212. On Lugalra see more recently Glassner 1986: 40 n. 11; Westenholz 1993: 159; 2014: 148; Kienast and Volk 1995: 88, 93–​94; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 25. 213. On the majordomo Iškun-​Dagan see Glassner 1986:  40; Kienast and Volk 1995:  54–​55; Westenholz 1999:  26 n.  44, 51; Weiershäuser 2008:  197–​199; Schrakamp 2017: 99.

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Figure  9.5.  Ancient impression of the cylinder seal of Iškun-​Dagan, the scribe (and) majordomo of queen Tuta-​šar-​libbiš (tu-​da-​sar-​li-​bi2-​iš nin iš-​ku-​ un-​dda-​gan dub-​sar šabra e2-​ti-​sa ir11-​za). YPM bc 007117. Courtesy of the Peabody Museum of Natural History, Anthropology:  Babylonian Collection, Yale University (peabody.yale.edu).

Lugalra to deploy troops to protect the fields and livestock from Gutean marauders and to fulfill his obligations toward the crown.214 There is also mention of a subordinate of Iškun-​Dagan (šu dIš-​ku-​un-​dDa-​gan) and of Ilum-​dan, the conscription officer (diĝir-​kal šu-​gal5:la2), who is attested as a member of the king’s entourage in archival records from Nippur, Maškan-​ili-​Akkad, and Girsu.215 On the other hand, there is no evidence for any direct links to the provincial administration of Lagaš.216 Thus,

214. Kienast and Volk 1995:  Gir 19; on this “Gutean letter” see Westenholz 1993: 157–​158; 2014: 148. 215. On Ilum-​dan see Westenholz 1987: 95; 2004: 602 n. 18; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22, 25; Schrakamp 2017: 100. 216. Schrakamp 2017: 100 n. 27.

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Lugalra’s estate is another example of a large agricultural holding in the south allocated by the crown to a local individual, in this case with close connections to the queen and her circle, who was not connected to the local provincial administration but was answerable directly to the crown and its officials.217 This final example of such an estate leaves the southeastern region of Lagaš. The “Šu-​Ilišu Archive” documents the running of an estate at Maškan-​ili-​Akkad (modern Umm el-​Hafriyat), ca. 25 km east of Nippur in the center of the Mesopotamian Plain.218 This place’s name openly advertises its strong royal connections; it was founded by Naram-​Sin after the “Great Revolt” and his subsequent deification around 2230 bc (cf. section 9.3.4), as its name, “Settlement of the god of Akkad,” expressly refers to the deified king.219 The Šu-​Ilišu Archive dates to the reign of Šar-​kali-​šarri and includes about 230 texts, mainly administrative records but also letters and legal documents.220 They are almost exclusively written in Sargonic Akkadian script and language, with some Sumerian phrases used in rare cases,221 and the people mentioned in these texts overwhelmingly have Akkadian names. The records document an estate that employed, and provided for, at least four hundred persons working in agriculture, livestock breeding, fishing, and manufacturing, administered by a handful of officials. Prominent among these are the scribes Šu-​Ilišu (whose prominence in the texts led to the modern designation of the archive) and LugalKA, who are called “servants of the god of Akkad” (ir11 diĝir A-​ga-​de3ki), that is, the deified king.222

217. Schrakamp 2017: 100. 218. Visicato and Westenholz 2006: 16; Westenholz 2010: 458–​460; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 13–​48; Schrakamp 2017: 100–​104. 219. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 15. 220. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 16. 221. Westenholz 2010: 458; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 16. 222. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 19–​20.

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The agricultural land of Maškan-​ili-​Akkad was subdivided into districts (agar4), allocated for subsistence (aša5 šuku) and for lease (apin-​la2) and cultivated by farmers (engar), who fulfilled work quotas and received grain provisions. Letter-​orders sent by royal officials mention royal domain land (aša5 gud lugal) and refer to a royal majordomo (šabra e2 lugal) in connection with royal (?) land (agar4 maš-​da-​lu-​gal); of this land, at least 79 hectares (i.e., 223 iku) were allocated for subsistence (šuku) to officials that included the scribe Šu-​Ilišu and a cadastral official named Imi-​Ilum, for cultivation or lease (eš2-​gar3) to farmers.223 Other letter-​orders refer to the fields of a high priestess (aša5 ereš-​diĝir), most likely a royal princess, and possibly the estates of a temple of Ištar (e2 dInana).224 These letters were sent by high-​ranking Sargonic officials based outside the estate at Maškan-​ili-​Akkad, including Išu-​ilum, the chief scribe (dub-​sar mah), and Sikkur-​kin, known to be a member of the king’s entourage.225 His cadastral official Imi-​Ilum appears as the addressee of several letter-​orders concerning fields. The close connection of the crown to the estate at Maškan-​ili-​Akkad is further apparent from references to a royal millhouse (e2 geme2-​kikken), royal farmers (engar lugal), farmers of the god of Akkad (engar diĝir A-​ga-​de3ki; i.e., the deified king), and farmers of the queen (engar nin). The evidence indicates that the crown distributed landed property at Maškan-​ili-​Akkad and that the beneficiaries in return incurred fixed obligations toward the crown. The presence of high-​ranking royal officials such as a royal majordomo, a royal trade agent (dam-​gara3 lugal), a servant of the king’s son, and an administrator of Naram-​Sin’s daughter Tuṭṭanab-​šum,226 as well as a visit by the king himself,227 further highlight the estate’s character as

223. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 18, 21, 28, 35–​36; Schrakamp 2017: 101. 224. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 20. 225. On Sikkur-​kin see Milano and Westenholz 2015: 23. 226. On Tuṭṭanab-​šum and her staff see most recently Such-​Gutiérrez 2003:  45–​ 47; Weiershäuser 2008:  256–​259; Sommerfeld 2011b:  290–​292; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 21. 227. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22, 212.

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a royal establishment, as do references to royal servants (both of the king and the queen: ir11 lugal; ir11 nin; šu nin).228 Contacts with other cities range from the nearby provincial centers of Adab and Nippur to Akkad and Aššur in the north and Kabsu (Nagsu) in the south.229 The estate’s role in the realm’s supraregional network is also emphasized by references to some of the highest functionaries of the state. These included several generals: Nannum inspected the records of Šu-​ilišu, Idi-​ilum is connected to a royal visit, and Puzur-​Eštar was entrusted by Šar-​kali-​šarri with the reconstruction of Enlil’s temple at Nippur.230 The archive also mentions a messenger of Ilum-​dan, the conscription officer (lu2 kiĝ2-​gi4-​a diĝir-​kal ši-​gal5:la2), known from various other archives,231 and Naḫšum-​šanat, a majordomo of the workshop (šabra e2 ĝeš-​kiĝ2-​ti), who was a member of the king’s entourage.232 That some of these functionaries are referred to as “subordinates of the god of Akkad,” that is, the deified ruler (šu/​šu-​ut diĝir A-​ga-​de3ki), underlines their allegiance to the king.233 To sum up, Maškan-​ili-​Akkad was an important royal outpost in the Nippur area, whose agriculture and livestock breeding made it largely self-​sufficient. The estate was managed by local officials, loyal to the king and answerable to higher-​ranking royal officials from outside the estate. They operated largely independently of the nearby provincial centers

228. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 20. 229. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22, 322. 230. On the “generals” see Milano and Westenholz 2015:  22. On Puzur-​Eštar see Glassner 1986:  11 n.  32; Westenholz 1987:  28; Cripps 2010:  19; Schrakamp 2010: 205; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 16, 22. On Nannum see Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22; Schrakamp 2017: 102 n. 30. The Sumerian King List, a later literary composition first attested in the time of the Third Dynasty of Ur, lists Nannum as one of four contenders for the throne of Akkad after the demise of Šar-​kali-​šarri. 231. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22. 232. On Nahšum-​ šanat see Westenholz 1987:  26 n.  28, 94–​ 95; Milano and Westenholz 2015: 16, 34, 47, 247. 233. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 20.

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and instead were closely associated with the king, a connection that the frequent presence of members of the royal court and family emphasized and strengthened.234 The functions of the institutions represented by the archives of Mesag, Lugalra, and Šu-​Ilišu have been debated. Originally a direct connection with the revolts against Rimuš (cf. section 9.3.2) was suspected, assuming that the crown then considered the practice of appointing governors, as initiated by Sargon, to have failed and that the crown therefore established new centers in rural areas that served to levy taxes and maintained control over the provinces, which had to be granted a certain degree of independence.235 More recently, however, the settlements’ lack of interaction with the provincial capitals has been highlighted and their autonomy and prominent role in the network of royal administration emphasized.236 As shown, the archives of Mesag, Lugalra, and Šu-​ilišu share common features that link them to the northern archives discussed in section 9.5.1. This demonstrates that the crown established estates whose land was allocated directly to loyal local functionaries, such as Mesag, the scribe and cadastral official and Lugalra, the scribe and cadastral official of the queen, in the Lagaš area and the scribe Šu-​ilišu in the Nippur area. Letter-​orders originating from high royal functionaries and the strong presence of such dignitaries as well as members of the royal family and royal court, and even at times the king himself, highlight that the local beneficiaries were part of a supraregional network that linked local supporters of the crown. The beneficiaries were expected to manage their estates following administrative practices and economic patterns traditionally associated with the Mesopotamian north. This, as well as their location in the rural hinterland of the provincial centers, marks these estates as royal outposts and as intrusive elements in the socioeconomic fabric of the south, and the lack of interaction with the provincial centers

234. Schrakamp 2017: 102. 235. Westenholz 1984b: 80–​81; 1999: 50. 236. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 23–​24, 27.

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and their administration points toward a deliberate separation of royal and provincial hierarchies and economies.237 The later poem “Curse over Akkad,” which is highly critical of the Akkad state, preserves memories that support this interpretation, stating that under the Sargonic kings, governors, temple administrators, and cadastral officials had to send taxes to Akkad.238 Also, these establishments are clearly the models for the rural settlements in the hinterlands, through which the later kings of the Third Dynasty of Ur managed their landed property.239 The allocation of land to local officials generated loyalties and dependencies to the crown that simplified access to the provincial administrations. Mesag, hitherto encountered as the manager of an estate in Saĝub in the hinterland of Lagaš in the late reign of Naram-​Sin, took over the office of the governor of Umma at the beginning of Šar-​kali-​šarri’s reign and was therefore put in charge of the provincial administration of an important southern province. His long-​standing integration into the royal patronage network meant that the crown had direct access to an administrative apparatus that was still deeply rooted in the traditional structures of the once-​independent city state (cf. section 9.4.2). But although the agricultural estates’ important role in linking local communities directly into the royal network of power and control has been duly highlighted, it is now necessary to highlight that they served with great likelihood also as self-​sustaining garrisons in the service of the crown. The Šu-​Ilišu Archive offers the most explicit evidence for this: it mentions several generals, some of whom were probably permanently

237. Foster 2016: 90–​92; Schrakamp 2017: 102–​103. 238. Foster 2011: 130; Schrakamp 2017: 103. 239. As suggested by Schrakamp 2017: 103. The names of these Ur III settlements frequently celebrate the ruler, such as “City: (King) Šulgi is the Shepherd of the Country” (iri-​dsul-​ge-​sipa-​kalam-​ma), or include components such as maškanum, “place, settlement,” or uṣārum, “pen,” that identify them as recent foundations. They were controlled by royal generals, managed by royal officials including majordomos, administrators, scribes, and cadastral officials who operated independently of the provincial administrations and employed and provided for corvée troops (eren2); see Steinkeller 2007; 2013b: 353–​361.

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installed at Maškan-​ili-​Akkad,240 as well as royal soldiers (aga3-​us2), men-​ at-​arms (šu ĝeštukul), archers (ĝešbana; šu-​ut ti), and bowmakers (zadim ĝeš bana),241 and therefore highlights the strong presence of the military, like the archival records from Dur-​Akkad (i.e., Susa in the Sargonic period; cf. ­chapter 10).242 This brings the discussion back to the question of the foundation of these estates. The name Maškan-​ili-​Akkad, “Settlement of the God of Akkad,” from which the Šu-​Ilišu Archive originates, clearly refers to the deified ruler and therefore implies that it was founded after the deification of Naram-​Sin around 2230 bc.243 Year names of recently published texts from the Mesag Archive also date this archive to the later reign of Naram-​Sin.244 Unlike the largely Akkadian-​language archives of Lugalra and Šu-​ilišu that have been attributed to the reign of Šar-​kali-​šarri,245 the Mesag Archive includes a high number of mixed-​language texts, and this is highly suggestive of a relatively early phase in the process of the administrative and economic reorganization of the south.246 The royal intervention in the management of agricultural land seems to have begun with the forceful appropriation of landed property under Rimuš (cf. section 9.3.2), and this has often been considered a trigger for the “Great Revolt” against Naram-​Sin around 2230 bc (cf. section 9.3.4). But while it therefore remains tempting to assume that the crown established estates of the type discussed in this section long before the revolt against Naram-​Sin, it is necessary to emphasize that the available data offer no support for this interpretation.247

240. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 22. 241. Schrakamp 2017: 103 n. 32. 242. Schrakamp 2010: 13, 344–​352; 2015d: 217; Foster 2016: 73–​75. 243. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 15. 244. Salgues 2011: 254, 259–​260, 268–​269; Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015b: 46. 245. Milano and Westenholz 2015: 24; cf. Salgues 2011: 254 n. 8. 246. Markina 2012: 172. 247. Cf. Schrakamp 2017: 103–​104.

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9.6. In conclusion The Sargonic period is regarded as a turning point in Mesopotamian history. In a political and societal milieu that was traditionally attached to particularism, the consolidation of the kingdom of Akkad constituted the decisive first step in a process that resulted in the long-​term implementation of the concept of the territorial state in the Mesopotamian political landscape. At the same time, the Sargonic period saw a series of political, ideological, socioeconomic, and administrative innovations that were closely interwoven and conditioned each other.248 These included the forceful implementation of the concept of the territorial state,249 promoted by a concept of autocratic and conquering kingship with a claim to universal power,250 which after Naram-​Sin’s suppression of the “Great Revolt” also included the deification of the living ruler;251 administrative centralization directed toward the capital,252 linked to the introduction of Sargonic Akkadian as an administrative language;253 establishment of large agricultural estates and the spread of private tenure of land that was ultimately owned by the king;254 and innovative battle tactics facilitated by the maintenance of a standing army, whose expensive upkeep was likely made possible through the enormous concentration of agricultural land in the hands of the king.255 The conception of Akkad kingship, the realm’s geographical scale and reach, and its mode of administration created a paradigm for future

248. Schrakamp 2017: 81–​82. 249. Steinkeller 1993a: 129. 250. Steinkeller 1993a: 129; Westenholz 2002: 38. 251. Selz 2016: 545–​546. 252. Glassner 1986: 10–​13. 253. Sommerfeld 2003. 254. Renger 1995; Steinkeller 1999a. 255. Schrakamp 2019: 84–​85.

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dynasties.256 The inscriptions of the kings of Akkad were copied by cuneiform scribes until the first millennium bc,257 and like no other Mesopotamian royal dynasty before or after them, the Sargonic kings evoked a strong literary tradition, predominantly in the Akkadian language, which remained alive in pseudo-​historical narratives, chronicles, and omens that focused on Sargon and Naram-​Sin.258 Whereas Sargon was unambiguously stylized as an ideal ruler, the memory of his grandson Naram-​Sin was distinctly ambivalent; while the Akkadian tradition depicted him as a heroic warrior, the Sumerian poem “Curse over Akkad,” composed during the Ur III period, charged him with the desecration of the Ekur temple in Nippur, thus provoking the god Enlil to send down the Gutean hordes from the mountains, which eventually caused the kingdom of Akkad’s demise.259 This negative judgment is considered a reflection of the political, ideological, and socioeconomic transformations that Sargonic rule brought about, especially for the Sumerian south,260 and it fits the observation that Sumerian literature as a whole contains no work that would glorify the kings of Akkad.261 Unlike the Gutean rulers and Puzur-​Inšušinak of Elam, whose own inscriptions emulated those of the Sargonic dynasty,262 the self-​representation of the rulers of the Second Dynasty of Lagaš and the Third Dynasty of Ur, and even of Puzur-​Mama, who claimed the kingship of Lagaš probably shortly after Šar-​kali-​šarri’s death,263 sharply contrasted with Sargonic royal ideology.

256. Cooper 1993; Liverani 1993b. 257. Westenholz 2000. 258. Glassner 1986; Goodnick Westenholz 1997; Haul 2009. 259. Cooper 1993: 12; Wilcke 1993: 33–​35; Westenholz 1999: 55. 260. Liverani 1993b: 56–​59. 261. Wilcke 1993: 67–​69. 262. Cf. the editions in Gelb and Kienast 1990. 263. Volk 1992.

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The kings of Akkad subjugated the whole of Mesopotamia proper to an autocratic form of kingship whose claim to power found its expression in titles such as “King of the Four Corners of the World” and which enforced a socioeconomic and administrative centralization directed toward the capital Akkad. The implementation of the kings’ claim to power also had ideological implications, which are often thought to have triggered the rebellions against Rimuš and later Naram-​Sin.264 The Sargonic period is therefore regarded as a period of both great innovation and severe unrest.265 Modern commentators ascribe great importance to the forced appropriation of land originally owned by the temples and the subsequent establishment of agricultural estates under the crown’s control because it was considered a sacrilegious seizure of divine property.266 The later poem “Curse over Akkad” preserves a surprisingly fitting memory (cf. sections 9.4.2 and 9.5.2). In this context, the deification of Naram-​Sin is of particular importance. After Naram-​Sin had suppressed the “Great Revolt” and saved the kingdom of Akkad from near destruction, the citizens of Akkad raised him to be their god (cf. section 3.4). Among the numerous implications of this,267 two are especially important. It is assumed that Naram-​Sin’s deification served to disempower the local gods and thereby signaled the transfer of landownership to the deified king, expressing an absolute claim to power against the local elites and thus underpinning the concept of the territorial state.268 At the same time, the ruler is thought to have served as a spiritual-​religious figure of identification for the inhabitants of the kingdom at a time when it had almost collapsed, and thus contributed to its preservation and cohesion.269 In view of the spread

264. Kienast 1973: 496–​499; Westenholz 1979: 110; 2002: 38; Selz 1999–​2000: 20–​ 21; Foster 2016: 44–​46. 265. Neumann 2014: 38. 266. Neumann 1992: 243–​244; Renger 1995: 281. 267. Brisch 2008; Selz 2016. 268. Neumann 1992: 245–​246; Renger 1995: 281; Steinkeller 1999a: 554. 269. Sallaberger 2002: 93–​98; Stępień 2009: 248–​250; Král 2010.

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of tributary patterns of economy in evidence under the Sargonic rulers, both interpretations can be understood in the context of a “privatization” of the state.270 After Šar-​kali-​šarri’s death, Mesopotamia fell back into a period of particularism that lasted approximately seventy years. From the perspective of the longue durée, however, the Sargonic period constituted the earliest sufficiently documented phase in a process that found its end with the final implementation of the concept of the territorial state in the Old Babylonian period of the early second millennium bc.271 As early as in the time of Sargon, many royal courtiers had names that honored the living ruler. Classical Sargonic sources not only testify to the frequent attestation of such names (e.g., Ili-​Rimuš, “My god is Rimuš,” and Naram-​Sin-​ili, “Naram-​Sin is my god”) and more broadly Akkadian names referring to the king (šarrum); they also mention Sumerian names such as Ursaĝ-​Akkad, “A hero (is) Akkad” and Akkad-​kidug, “Akkad (is) a good place.”272 This could suggest that Sargonic rule and the concept of the unified territorial state ultimately gained traction and support in the Sumerian south as well, quite possibly as a result of the deliberate extension of the Akkad kings’ network of patronage into these regions.273 The testimony of the Sumerian King List may support this hypothesis. This literary composition, first attested in the period of the kingdom of Ur (cf. ­chapter 13 in volume 2), states that since primordial times, the whole of the Mesopotamian Plain had been unified into a single territorial state that was subject to a dynastic kingship (nam-​lugal), stylizing the Third Dynasty of Ur as the contemporary legitimate heir to this long tradition.274 But although the earliest attested manuscript is dated to the reign of Šulgi of Ur, the composition may well go back to the Sargonic

270. Selz 1999–​2000: 1,  20–​21. 271. Renger 1995: 283–​284, 318–​319; Selz 1999–​2000: 20–​21; Neumann 2014: 39–​ 40; Schrakamp 2017: 89–​90, 116–​117. 272. Westenholz 1979: 111; 1999: 40 n. 124; Andersson 2012: 239, 257. 273. Schrakamp 2017: 116. 274. Wilcke 1993: 36.

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period and may have been created originally to legitimize the kings of Akkad, who were the first to unify Lower Mesopotamia into a single territorial state.275 Sometime around the turn from the third to the second millennium bc, Šulgi’s father and predecessor, Urnamma of Ur, had succeeded once more in unifying Sumer and Akkad into a single territorial state and thus laid the foundations for the kingdom of Ur that would dominate Lower Mesopotamia for almost a century. The fact that Urnamma and his successors held the title “King of Sumer and Akkad” indicates that the Sargonic conception of the territorial state was consciously continued. Other parallel structures include the extremely prominent position of the king, including the deification of the ruler during his lifetime; the integration of the provincial administration into the state economy; administrative centralization in favor of the capital city; and the strong royal control exercised over the agricultural land.276 Although the kings of Ur chose to present themselves in ways that differed markedly from their Sargonic predecessors, the kingdom of Ur was very much the conceptual heir of the Akkad state. R ef er en c es Alberti, A. and Pomponio, F. 1986. Pre-​Sargonic and Sargonic texts from Ur edited in UET 2: Supplement. Rome: Biblical Institute Press. Al-​Rawi, F.N.H. and Black, J.A. 1993. A rediscovered Akkadian city. Iraq 55: 147–​148. Andersson, J. 2012. Kingship in the early Mesopotamian onomasticon, 2800–​ 2200 bce. Uppsala: Uppsala University. Archi, A. 2008. Considerations on a delivery of spearheads from Ebla. JCS 60: 1–​5. Archi, A. and Biga, M.G. 2003. A victory over Mari and the fall of Ebla. JCS 55: 1–​44.

275. Steinkeller 2003: 268, 285–​286. 276. Kienast 1973:  499–​500; Renger 1995:  280–​284; Sallaberger 1999:  148–​149; Selz 2010; Foster 2016: 275.

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Bänder, D. 1995. Die Siegesstele des Naramsîn und ihre Stellung in Kunst-​und Kulturgeschichte. Idstein: Schulz-​Kirchner-​Verlag. Bartash, V. 2017. Sumerian administrative and legal documents ca. 2900–​2200 bc in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Bauer, J. 1990. Lugal-​ušumgal. RlA 7: 155. Boehmer, R.M. 1965. Die Entwicklung der Glyptik während der Akkad-​Zeit. Berlin: De Gruyter. Braun-​Holzinger, E.A. 1991. Mesopotamische Weihgaben der frühdynastischen bis altbabylonischen Zeit. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. Bridges, S.J. 1981. The Mesag archive: a study of Sargonic society and economy. PhD dissertation, Yale University. Brisch, N. 2008. Religion and power: divine kingship in the ancient world and beyond. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Buccellati, G. 1993. Through a tablet darkly: a reconstruction of Old Akkadian monuments described in Old Babylonian copies. In Cohen, M.E., Snell, D. and Weisberg, D.B. (eds.), The tablet and the scroll: near eastern studies in honor of William W. Hallo. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 58–​71. Carroué, F. 1985. Un autre prince sargonique d’Umma. Acta Sumerologica 7: 89–​96. Carroué, F. 1994. La situation chronologique de Lagaš II: un élément du dossier. Acta Sumerologica 16: 47–​75. Catagnoti, A. 2003. Two Sargonic tablets mentioning Mesag, Énsi of Umma. In Marrassini, M. (ed.), Semitic and Assyriological studies presented to Pelio Fronzaroli. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 105–​115. Cooper, J.S. 1993. Paradigm and propaganda: the dynasty of Akkade in the 21st century. In Liverani, M. (ed.), Akkad, the first world empire: structure, ideology, traditions. Padova: Sargon, 11–​23. Cripps, E.L. 2007. Land tenure and social stratification in ancient Mesopotamia:  third millennium Sumer before the Ur III dynasty. Oxford: Archaeopress. Cripps, E.L. 2010. Sargonic and Presargonic texts in the World Museum Liverpool. Oxford: Archaeopress. De Genouillac, H. 1921. Inventaire des tablettes de Tello conservées au Musée Impérial Ottoman, II:  textes de l’époque d’Agadé et de l’époque d’Ur. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Delaporte, L. 1920. Musée du Louvre, catalogue des cylindres: cachets et pierres gravées de style oriental, I: fouilles et missions. Paris: Librairie Hachette.

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Donbaz, V. and Foster, B.R. 1982. Sargonic texts from Telloh in the Istanbul Archeological Museums. Philadelphia:  University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania. Durand J.-​M. 1993. Notes de lecture: Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian texts in Philadelphia. MARI: Annales de Recherches Interdisciplinaires 7: 377–​382. Eppihimer, M. 2009. The visual legacy of Akkadian kingship. PhD dissertation, Harvard University. Eppihimer, M. 2010. Assembling king and state: the statues of Manishtushu and the consolidation of Akkadian kingship. AJA 114: 365–​380. Farber W. 1975. Review of Limet 1973. WdO 8: 118–​123. Felli, C. 2006. Lugal-​ušumgal:  an Akkadian governor and his two masters. In Taylor, P. (ed.), The iconography of cylinder seals. London:  Warburg Institute,  35–​50. Fish, T. 1932. Catalogue of the Sumerian tablets in the John Rylands Library. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Foster, B.R. 1977. Review of Westenholz, 1975a. JNES 36: 299–​302. Foster, B.R. 1980. Notes on Sargonic royal progress. Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society 12: 29–​42. Foster, B.R. 1981. Notes brèves, 10: ni-​is-​ku. RA 75: 190. Foster, B.R. 1982a. Administration and use of institutional land in Sargonic Sumer. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. Foster, B.R. 1982b. An agricultural archive from Sargonic Akkad. Acta Sumerologica 4: 7–​51. Foster, B.R. 1982c. Archives and record-​keeping in Sargonic Mesopotamia. ZA 72: 1–​27. Foster, B.R. 1982d. Umma in the Sargonic period. Hamden, CT: Archon Books. Foster, B.R. 1982e. Administration of state land at Sargonic Gasur. Oriens Antiquus 20: 39–​48. Foster, B.R. 1982f. Ethnicity and onomastics in Sargonic Mesopotamia. Orientalia 51: 297–​354. Foster, B.R. 1982g. Sargonic and Pre-​Sargonic tablets in the John Rylands University Library. Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester 64: 457–​480. Foster, B.R. 1982h. Education of a bureaucrat in Sargonic Sumer. Archív Orientální 50: 238–​241. Foster, B.R. 1983a. Collations to the Umm el-​Jir tablets. Acta Sumerologica 5: 173–​174.

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Sallaberger, W. 1999. Ur III-​Zeit. In Attinger, P. and Wäfler, M. (eds.), Mesopotamien: Akkade-​Zeit und Ur III-​Zeit. Fribourg: Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 119–​390. Sallaberger, W. 2000. Review of Sommerfeld 1999. BiOr 57: 112–​118. Sallaberger, W. 2002. Den Göttern nahe -​und fern den Menschen? Formen der Sakralität des altmesopotamischen Herrschers. In Franz-​Reiner, E. (ed.), Die Sakralität von Herrschaft:  Herrschaftslegitimierung im Wechsel der Zeiten und Räume. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 85–​98. Sallaberger, W. 2007. From urban culture to nomadism: a history of Upper Mesopotamia in the late third millennium. In Kuzucuoğlu, C. and Marro, C. (eds.), Sociétés humaines et changement climatique à la fin du troisième millénaire: une crise a-​t-​elle eu lieu en Haute Mésopotamie? Istanbul: Institut Français d’Études Anatoliennes-​Georges Dumézil, 417–​456. Sallaberger, W. 2008. Provinz, A: Babylonien im 3. und 2. Jt. RlA 11: 34–​38. Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.) 2015a. Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols. Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. 2015b. Philological data for a historical chronology of the third millennium. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 1–​136. Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. 2015c. Conclusion. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3:  history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 297–​306. Schrakamp, I. 2006. Kommentar zu der altakkadischen ‘Rüstkammerurkunde’ Erm. 14380. Babel und Bibel 3: 161–​177. Schrakamp, I. 2010. Krieger und Waffen im frühen Mesopotamien: Organisation und Bewaffnung des Militärs in frühdynastischer und sargonischer Zeit. PhD thesis, Philipps-​Universität Marburg. Retrieved from https://​archiv. ub.uni-​marburg.de/​diss/​z2010/​0486/​ (last accessed July 2019). Schrakamp, I. 2013. Zu den vor-​Ur III-​zeitlichen Keilschrifttexten des World Museum, Liverpool. JCS 64: 145–​162. Schrakamp, I. 2015a. Geographical horizons of the Presargonic and Sargonic archives. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 197–​270.

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Schrakamp, I. 2015b. “Urukagina, Sohn des Engilsa, des Stadtfürsten von Lagaš”: zur Herkunft des Urukagina, des letzten Herrschers der 1. Dynastie von Lagaš. AoF 42: 15–​23. Schrakamp, I. 2015c. Kampf-​und Streitwagen in Vorderasien. In Meller, H. and Schefzik, M. (eds.), Krieg:  eine archäologische Spurensuche. Halle: Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie, 225–​228. Schrakamp, I. 2015d. Militär und Kriegführung in Vorderasien. In Meller, H. and Schefzik, M. (eds.), Krieg:  eine archäologische Spurensuche. Halle: Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie, 213–​224. Schrakamp, I. 2016a. Akkadian empire. In MacKenzie, J. (ed.), The encyclopedia of empire. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 50–​59. Schrakamp, I, 2016b. Warīum, Warûm. RlA 14: 645–​647. Schrakamp, I. 2017. Ressourcen und Herrschaft:  Ressourcenkulturen im Reich von Akkade (2300–​2181 v.  Chr.). In Scholz, A.K., Bartelheim, M., Hardenberg, R. and Staecker, J. (eds.), ResourceCultures:  sociocultural dynamics and the use of resources—​theories, methods, perspectives. Tübingen: Universität Tübingen, 81–​132. Schrakamp, I. 2019. Militärgeschichte ist immer Wirtschafts-​und Sozialgeschichte:  Kommentar eines Altorientalisten zum Beitrag von Axel Paul. In Jung, M., Reymann, A. and Sutterlüty, F. (eds.), Narrative der Gewalt:  interdisziplinäre Analysen. Frankfurt am Main:  Campus Verlag,  79–​86. Selz, G.J. 1999–​2000. Wirtschaftskrise—​Legitimationskrise—​Staatskrise: zur Genese mesopotamischer Rechtsvorstellungen zwischen Planwirtschaft und Eigentumsverfassung. AfO 46/​47: 1–​44. Selz, G.J. 2010. “He put in order the accounts . . .”: remarks on the Early Dynastic background of the administrative reorganisations in the Ur III state. In Kogan, L., Koslova, N., Loesov, S. and Tishchenko, S. (eds.), City administration in the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 5–​30. Selz, G.J. 2016. Vergöttlichung, A: in Mesopotamien. RlA 14: 545–​548. Sollberger, E. 1972. Pre-​Sargonic and Sargonic economic texts. London: British Museum. Sommerfeld, W. 1999. Die Texte der Akkade-​Zeit, 1: das Dijala-​Gebiet: Tutub. Münster: Rhema. Sommerfeld, W. 2000. Naram-​Sin, die “Große Revolte” und MAR.TUki. In Marzahn, J. Neumann, H. and Fuchs, A. (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 419–​436.

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Sommerfeld, W. 2003. Bemerkungen zur Dialektgliederung Altakkadisch, Assyrisch und Babylonisch. In Selz, G.J. (ed.), Festschrift für Burkhart Kienast. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 569–​586. Sommerfeld, W. 2004. Die inschriftliche Überlieferung des 3. Jahrtausends aus Tutub. In Waetzoldt, H. (ed.), Von Sumer nach Ebla und zurück: Festschrift Giovanni Pettinato. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 285–​292. Sommerfeld, W. 2006. Der Beginn des offiziellen Richteramtes im Alten Orient. In Hengstl, J. and Sick, U. (eds.), Recht gestern und heute: Festschrift zum 85. Geburtstag von Richard Haase. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 3–​20. Sommerfeld, W. 2008a. Rimuš. RlA 11: 372–​375. Sommerfeld, W. 2008b. Große Zahlen in den altakkadischen Königsinschriften. AoF 35: 220–​237. Sommerfeld, W. 2010. Prä-​Akkadisch: die Vorläufer der “Sprache von Akkade” in der frühdynastischen Zeit. In Kogan, L., Koslova, N., Loesov, S. and Tishchenko, S. (eds.), Language in the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 77–​163. Sommerfeld, W. 2011a. Sargon (Śar-​ru-​GI usw.): Begründer der Dynastie von Akkade. RlA 12: 44–​49. Sommerfeld, W. 2011b. Altakkadische Duelle. In Barjamovic, G., Dahl, J.L., Koch, U.S., Sommerfeld, W. and Westenholz, J.G. (eds.), Akkade is king: a collection of papers by friends and colleagues presented to Aage Westenholz. Leiden: NINO, 287–​299. Sommerfeld, W. 2011c. Geschichte des Dijala-​Gebietes in der Akkade-​Zeit. In Miglus, P.A. and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium bc. Heidelberg:  Heidelberger Orientverlag,  85–​96. Sommerfeld, W. 2012. Hasselbach, Rebecca, Sargonic Akkadian: a historical and comparative study of the syllabic texts; ein Rezensionsartikel. WZKM 102: 193–​284. Sommerfeld, W. 2014. Die Lage von Akkade und die Dokumentation des 3.  Jahrtausends. In Ziegler, N. and Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E. (eds.), Entre les fleuves, II: d’Aššur à Mari et au-​delà. Gladbeck: PeWe-​Verlag, 151–​175. Sommerfeld, W. 2015a. Girsu-​ Texte der Akkade-​ Zeit in Istanbul—​ eine Nachlese. In Müller-​Karpe, A., Rieken, E. and Sommerfeld, W. (eds.), Saeculum:  Gedenkschrift für Heinrich Otten. Wiesbaden:  Harrassowitz, 251–​267.

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Sommerfeld, W. 2015b. The transition from the Old Akkadian period to Ur III in Lagash. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 271–​279. Steible, H. 1997. Review of Alberti and Pomponio 1986. WdO 28: 194–​197. Steinkeller, P. 1987. Review of Foster 1982d. WZKM 77: 182–​195. Steinkeller, P. 1992. Third-​millennium legal and administrative texts in the Iraq Museum. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Steinkeller, P. 1993a. Early political development in Mesopotamia and the origins of the Sargonic Empire. In Liverani, M. (ed.), Akkad, the first world empire: structure, ideology, traditions. Padova: Sargon, 107–​129. Steinkeller, P. 1993b. Review of Westenholz 1987. JNES 52: 141–​145. Steinkeller, P. 1999a. Land-​tenure conditions in southern Babylonia under the Sargonic Dynasty. In Böck, B., Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E. and Richter, T. (eds.), Munuscula Mesopotamica:  Festschrift für Johannes Renger. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 553–​571. Steinkeller, P. 1999b. On rulers, priests and sacred marriage: tracing the evolution of early Sumerian kingship. In Watanabe, K. (ed.), Priests and officials in the ancient Near East. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 103–​137. Steinkeller, P. 2003. An Ur III manuscript of the Sumerian King List. In Sallaberger, W., Volk, K. and Zgoll, A. (eds.), Literatur, Politik und Recht in Mesopotamien: Festschrift für Claus Wilcke. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 267–​292. Steinkeller, P. 2007. City and countryside in third-​millennium southern Mesopotamia. In Stone, E.C. (ed.), Settlement and society: essays dedicated to Robert McC. Adams. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 185–​211. Steinkeller, P. 2011. Third-​millennium royal and votive inscriptions. In George, A.R. (ed.), Cuneiform royal inscriptions and related texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 1–​28. Steinkeller, P. 2013a. An archaic “Prisoner Plaque” from Kiš. RA 107: 131–​157. Steinkeller, P. 2013b. Corvée labour in Ur III times. In Garfinkle, S. and Molina, M. (eds.), From the 21st century bc to the 21st century ad. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 347–​424. Steinkeller, P. 2015. The Gutian period in chronological perspective. In Sallaberger, W. and Schrakamp, I. (eds.), Associated regional chronologies

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for the ancient Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean, vol. 3: history & philology. Turnhout: Brepols, 281–​288. Stępień, M. 2009. Why some kings become gods: the deification of Narām-​ Sîn, the ruler of the world. In Drewnowska, O. (ed.), Here & there: across the ancient Near East:  Studies in honor of Krystyna Lyczkowska. Warsaw: Agade, 233–​255. Such-​Gutiérrez, M. 2003. Beiträge zum Pantheon von Nippur im 3. Jahrtausend. Rome: Università di Roma “La Sapienza”. Such-​Gutiérrez, M. 2015. Der Übergang von der frühdynastischen Zeit in die altakkadische Periode anhand der Adab-​Texte. In Selz, G.J., Dittmann, R. and Rehm, E. (eds.), It’s a long way to a historiography of the Early Dynastic period(s). Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 433–​451. Such-​Gutiérrez, M. 2018. Die Sprachsituation in Adab während der altakkadischen Periode. In Fink, S., Lang, M. and Schretter, M. (eds.), Mehrsprachigkeit: vom Alten Orient bis zum Esperanto. Münster: Zaphon, 131–​150. Thomas, A. 2015. The Akkadian royal image: on a seated statue of Manishtushu. ZA 105: 86–​117. Thureau-​Dangin, F. 1903. Recueil de tablettes chaldéennes. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Visicato, G. 2000. The power and the writing: the early scribes of Mesopotamia. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Visicato, G. 2001. The journey of the Sargonic king to Assur and Gasur. In Abusch, T., Beaulieu, P.-​A., Huehnergard, J., Machinist, P. and Steinkeller, P. (eds.), Historiography in the cuneiform world. Bethesda, MD:  CDL Press, 467–​472. Visicato, G. 2010. New light from an unpublished archive of Meskigalla, ensi of Adab, housed in the Cornell University Collections. In Kogan, L., Koslova, N., Loesov, S. and Tishchenko, S. (eds.), City administration in the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 263–​271. Visicato, G. 2012. Two governors of Umma called Surus-​kin in the Sargonic period. In Notizia, P. and Pomponio, F. (eds.), Scritti in onore di Pietro Mander. Naples: Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”, 169–​174. Visicato, G. and Westenholz, A. 2006. Le tavolette presargoniche e sargoniche. In Pomponio, F., Stol, M. and Westenholz, A. (eds.), Tavolette cuneiformi di varia provenienza delle collezioni della Banca d’Italia. Rome:  Banca d’Italia,  11–​67.

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Visicato, G. and Westenholz, A. 2010. Early Dynastic and early Sargonic tablets from Adab in the Cornell University Collections. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Volk, K. 1992. Puzur-​Mama und die Reise des Königs. ZA 82: 22–​29. Weiershäuser, F. 2008. Die königlichen Frauen der III. Dynastie von Ur. Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Göttingen. Westenholz, A. 1974–​1977. Old Akkadian school texts: Some goals of Sargonic scribal education. AfO 25: 95–​110. Westenholz, A. 1975a. Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian texts in Philadelphia chiefly from Nippur, part 1: literary and lexical texts and the earliest administrative documents from Nippur. Malibu, CA: Undena. Westenholz, A. 1975b. Early cuneiform texts in Jena: Pre-​Sargonic and Sargonic documents from Nippur and Fara in the Hilprecht-​Sammlung vorderasiatischer Altertümer Institut für Altertumswissenschaften der Friedrich-​ Schiller-​Universität, Jena. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. Westenholz, A. 1979. The Old Akkadian empire in contemporary opinion. In Larsen, M.T. (ed.), Power and propaganda: a symposium on ancient empires. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag, 107–​124. Westenholz, A. 1984a. The Sargonic period. In Archi, A. (ed.), Circulation of goods in non-​palatial context in the ancient Near East. Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo,  17–​30. Westenholz, A. 1984b. Review of Foster 1982d. AfO 31: 76–​81. Westenholz, A. 1987. Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian texts in Philadelphia, part 2: the “Akkadian” texts, the Enlilemaba texts, and the Onion Archive. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press. Westenholz, A. 1993. The world view of Sargonic officials: differences in mentality between Sumerians and Akkadians. In Liverani, M. (ed.), Akkad, the first world empire: structure, ideology, traditions. Padova: Sargon, 157–​169. Westenholz, A. 1995. Review of Steinkeller 1992. JAOS 115: 535–​537. Westenholz, A. 1999. The Old Akkadian period:  history and culture. In Attinger, P. and Wäfler, M. (eds.), Mesopotamien: Akkade-​Zeit und Ur III-​ Zeit. Fribourg: Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 15–​117. Westenholz, A. 2000. Assyriologists, ancient and modern, on Naramsin and Sharkalisharri. In Marzahn, J. Neumann, H. and Fuchs, A. (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner. Münster: Ugarit-​ Verlag, 545–​556.

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Westenholz, A. 2002. The Sumerian city-​state. In Hansen, M.H. (ed.), A comparative study of six city-​state cultures:  an investigation conducted by the Copenhagen Polis Centre. Copenhagen: C.A. Reitzels, 23–​42. Westenholz, A. 2004. “Have you been near Prof. Larsen too long?” In Dercksen, J.G. (ed.), Assyria and beyond: studies presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen. Leiden: NINO, 599–​606. Westenholz, A. 2010. What’s new in town? In Melville, S.C. and Slotsky, A.L. (eds.), Opening the tablet box: Near Eastern studies in honor of Benjamin R. Foster. Leiden: Brill, 453–​462. Westenholz, A. 2011a. Sar’atigubisin. RlA 12: 35. Westenholz, A. 2011b. Šar-​kali-​šarrī. RlA 12: 64–​65. Westenholz, A. 2014. A third-​ millennium miscellany of cuneiform texts. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Wilcke, C. 1993. Politik im Spiegel der Literatur, Literatur als Mittel der Politik im älteren Babylonien. In Raaflaub, K. (ed.), Anfänge politischen Denkens in der Antike:  die nahöstlichen Kulturen und die Griechen. Munich: Oldenbourg,  29–​75. Wilcke, C. 1997. Amar-​girids Revolte gegen Naram-​Su’en. ZA 87: 11–​32. Wilcke, C. 2002. Der Kodex Urnamma (CU): Versuch einer Rekonstruktion. In Abusch, T. (ed.), Riches hidden in secret places:  ancient Near Eastern studies in memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake, IN:  Eisenbrauns, 291–​333. Wilcke, C. 2007. Early ancient Near Eastern law, a history of its beginnings:  the Early Dynastic and Sargonic periods. Rev. ed. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Wilson, K.L. 2012. Bismaya: recovering the lost city of Adab. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Woods, C. 2006. Bilingualism, scribal learning, and the death of Sumerian. In Sanders, S.L. (ed.), Margins of writing, origins of cultures. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 91–​120. Yang, Z. 1989. Sargonic inscriptions from Adab. Changchun: Institute for the History of Ancient Civilizations. Zettler, R. 1977. The Sargonic royal seal:  a consideration of sealing in Mesopotamia. In Gibson, M. and Biggs, R.D. (eds.), Seals and sealing in the ancient Near East. Malibu, CA: Undena, 33–​39.

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The Kingdom of Akkad in Contact with the World Piotr Michalowski

10.1.  Introduction Looking back at events that were mere memory from several generations earlier, a Mesopotamian poet began “The Curse of Akkad,” an epic poem that recounts the end of the Akkadian polity, with these words: After divine Enlil’s frown of discontentment Had slain Kiš as if by the (mythical) Heavenly Bull, Had slaughtered into the dust the House of Uruk land as if by a colossal bull, Then, once divine Enlil To Sargon, king of Akkad Had given kinship and sovereignty Over all lands from north to south, Only then did divine Inana build haven Akkad As her supreme woman’s abode And set up (her) throne in temple Ulmaš. . . .  So that people should throng places of celebration, Piotr Michalowski, The Kingdom of Akkad in Contact with the World In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0011.

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Fellows should dine together, Foreigners should cruise around like strange birds in the sky, And (even the distant land of ) Marhaši be restored to the tribute rolls, So that monkeys, mighty buffaloes and elephants—​animals from (that) distant land—​ Should jostle each other in the public squares, Alongside exotic dogs, cheetahs, various mountain creatures, and long-​haired  sheep —​(to make this all come about) Inana slept not! At the same time, she filled Akkad’s choice estates with gold, Filled its bright choice estates with silver, Delivered copper, tin, slabs of (exotic) stone, and gemstones to the granaries displacing their grain, And plastered the resulting outdoor grain heaps with protective clay.1 While it is possible to quibble about minor details of translation, the significance of this passage is indubitably clear: later generations knew that working under divine sanction of Sumer’s principal god Enlil and Akkad’s divine protectress Inana/​Ištar, the Sargonic kings had served as mediators between the transcendent and mundane spheres, claiming cosmologically charged knowledge based on access to geographically distant lands and peoples. These were sources of exotic animals and luxury goods that bolstered their political-​religious legitimacy, which empowered their status in the everyday world of elite interaction and reinforced the image of their land as the destination of precious goods and materiel from far and wide. Moreover, “The Curse of Akkad” directly asserted the relationship between the local center of authority—​the city of Akkad—​ and the world beyond, bringing the outside in and simultaneously affirming and erasing the distinction between here and there as well as between center and periphery. At the very beginning of the poem the two symbolic political centers of northern and southern Babylonia, Kiš, and Uruk (see figure 10.1), 1. Curse of Agade, ll. 1–​9, 17–​28: Cooper 1983a: 50–​52.

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Figure  10.1.  Sites in and around Mesopotamia mentioned in ­chapter 10. Only an approximate position is indicated for Akkad, as the city’s exact location is unknown. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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are laid low by the whim of the god Enlil, who hands supremacy over the whole land to Sargon, erasing the hitherto normative city-​state parity (cf. Chapter  8). This divine sanction is ratified when the goddess Inana chooses Akkad as her earthly abode, certifying it as the capital of the new polity. She then works sleeplessly to ensure its prosperity as a place of wonder endowed with the power derived from mastery over the known world, symbolized once again by the internalization of the outside within. Local acquaintances are contrasted to exotic foreigners; the powerful distant land of Marhaši (see figure 10.2) once again pays tribute, even if this is more wishful thinking than historical fact; and the squares of the city teem with strange animals and precious metals, gems, and stone, obtained in tribute and plunder far and wide. These gifts and booty are so plentiful that grain has to be displaced from granaries to contain them. To be sure, this imaginative representation of kingly ideals was set down in clay years after the Sargonic polity had disintegrated, and the story it tells is rife with poetic license. The tenor of the passage echoes the self-​representative strategies of the Akkadian kings, whose propaganda had such an effective impact on members of later generations of Mesopotamian elites and modern readers alike. Indeed, this poem, with its willful distortions of history, stood at the beginning of a literary tradition that commemorated the dynasty of Akkad, most prominently its two long-​lived members, Sargon and Naram-​Sin, reducing them to the roles of founder and ill-​starred last king who imperiously survived massive rebellions but whose hubris eventually angered the gods and brought about the fall of the monarchy. Both were portrayed as mighty conquerors who led victorious armies to far-​flung lands to the very ends of the known world, prompting a prominent modern historian to describe them as “the first marcher lords of history.”2 These poems and inscription-​like narratives, transmitted and written anew over a millennium and a half, served as vehicles for the examination and exploration of various aspects of kingship and acquired novel

2. Mann 1986: 101.

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Figure 10.2.  Regions and sites in the wider world mentioned in ­chapter 10. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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shades of meaning over time.3 As succinctly stated by Mario Liverani, “The ancient scribes valued the Akkad kings as prototypes, as models for proper (Sargon) or improper (Naram-​Sin) behavior, and as authors of unsurpassed achievements, to be challenged by every king eager for perennial fame.”4 The stories were distinctively imaginary, even if some elements were based on knowledge obtained from examining still extant Sargonic royal inscriptions, but although they were composed or copied centuries and even millennia after the fall of Akkad with contemporary issues in mind, their powerful stories strongly influenced the imaginations of readers not only in Babylonia and Assyria, but in Syria, among the Hittites, and even fleetingly in Egypt.5 The propaganda of success perpetuated by scribes working for the Sargonic crown was effective in ways none of them could have even begun to imagine. One cannot gauge its immediate impact, but it is possible to trace the way in which these writings reverberated for more than a millennium in Mesopotamia and beyond in the form of literary works featuring Sargon and Naram-​Sin, indirectly radiating throughout the Near East. Even more impressively, their work and its native echoes resurfaced ages later in our times, in writings on the military exploits of Sargon and his successors that have incorporated often uncritical paraphrases of the ancient inscriptions and retellings of events recounted in the subsequent fictional poems.6 Historians by nature wish to articulate coherent stories that are good to tell and often find it difficult to avoid fleshing out their accounts with details drawn from the literary tradition, unwittingly creating new conjured tales under the guise of rigorous scholarship. Indeed, it is difficult to recall a single modern account of the history of this period that does not at some point cite or allude to

3. For an edition and discussion of the poems and pseudo-​inscriptions see Goodnick Westenholz 1997; for an overview of all later Mesopotamian tales about Akkad see Foster 2016: 245–​286. 4. Liverani 1993: 1. 5. See, most recently, Haul 2009. 6. Michalowski 1993. The history of scholarship on Akkad is chronicled in Foster 2016: 287–​315.

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the later Mesopotamian literary traditions about these kings (but cf. also ­chapter 9). With this in mind, save for this one poetic citation, the later literary compositions will play no role in this essay, which relies on contemporary Sargonic writings, including royal statements in the form of originals and later copies. But the analysis of these deceptively informative inscriptions does not provide much historical solace.

10.2. The sources The circumvention of later literary accounts does not solve all historiographic problems associated with the analysis of the outside dealings of the Sargonic crown. The probative value of the remaining evidence is difficult to gauge: like all Mesopotamian royal inscriptions, the Sargonic writings only celebrated successes, but the silences that permeate the documentary record are noteworthy as well. These inscriptions mention only selected victories, with nary a mention of any military setback; one is asked to believe that during a century and a half of seemingly unending war waged against internal and external enemies, the armies of Akkad experienced not a single stalemate or defeat. Most of their outside opponents did not use writing and therefore did not leave behind their own versions of events, but if they had, these undoubtedly would have proclaimed similar victories in wars waged against their Mesopotamian foes. Indeed, if we were to figuratively place ourselves to the east, in the midst of Marhaši or Anšan or the lowland Pre-​Sargonic city-​centered polities, the subsequent Akkad regime would quite possibly appear less imposing than one might think based on the Mesopotamian writings that inform our historical reconstructions. We shall never know how many skirmishes or battles were lost by Sargon and his descendants or how many times they withdrew from the field to avoid conflict; hence it is impossible to evaluate the veracity of their stories. Old Akkadian written sources are more abundant and informative than those from earlier periods of Mesopotamian history; administrative documents, however, mostly concerned local matters or dealings with other centers under Sargonic control, including the capital at Akkad, rarely mentioning more distant lands (cf. ­chapter 9).

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In Pre-​ Sargonic times most Mesopotamian votive dedicatory inscriptions were short and to the point, but those written in the name of Lagaš rulers included lengthy detailed narratives concerning building projects as well as a multigenerational martial feud between the Lagaš and Umma polities over a boundary and occasional other military activities.7 Numerous stone bowls deposited in the Enlil temple in Nippur were inscribed with a long engraving of Sargon’s Uruk rival Lugalzagesi that touted the king’s divine sanction and his pious offerings, commemorating conquests and territorial control bestowed by the god in recognition of his devout deeds.8 All of these were composed in the Sumerian language. Sargon’s scribes transformed the traditional votive inscription to serve a more grandiose, self-​representational mode; they were now often much longer and either written in Akkadian or in separate Sumerian and Akkadian versions, while descriptions of royal piety were shortened, and the main sections were focused on a stripped-​ down, laconic litany of conquests. The plots were deceptively simple, even if they became more complex in the hands of his successors, and were designed to authenticate and legitimate central authority in a narrative form that was culturally embedded and allowed for no alternative points of view. The aura of invincibility that emanated from the inscribed and illustrated monuments was supported by the use of seemingly precise numbers of slaughtered or captured enemies.9 Quite obviously, there is no way to verify such information, which was characterized by a double articulation:  to impress upon the reader the folly of any resistance to the might of the Sargonic kings, but also to bestow upon the narrative an illusion of verisimilitude, a reality effect that testified to the proposition that the story could never be questioned. This device had a long history in northern Babylonia. An inscribed and illustrated plaque possibly from Kiš, which dates back to the early part of the third millennium

7. On these inscriptions see Cooper 1983b. 8. Translation: Cooper 1986: 94–​95; Frayne 1998: 435–​437. 9. On the large numbers see Sommerfeld 2008.

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bc, enumerates a total of thirty-​six thousand prisoners of war from over twenty different places assigned to processing grain.10 This example suggests that the use of numbers of defeated enemies as a narrative scheme was characteristic of northern Babylonian inscriptional language from early on and was not a Sargonic innovation. The Sargonic inscriptions had their own stylistic features. Characteristic is the pithy beginning of one such text, redacted in both Akkadian and Sumerian and known only from later Old Babylonian copies: “Sargon, king of Akkad, steward of divine Ištar, king of everything, anointed priest of divine An, king of the homeland, sovereign of divine Enlil, conquered the city of Uruk and tore down its walls . . . captured Lugalzagesi, king of Uruk, in battle and led him in a neck stock to Enlil.”11 The objects on which such texts were inscribed were often physically self-​referential, consisting of precious stone or metal that had been plundered during the raids and battles mentioned, described and sometimes even depicted in art on their very surfaces. Shorter inscriptions might just identify the votive object (ceremonial mace heads, bowls or jars of precious stone), while larger victory steles or statues made of stone or metal could be covered by long, elaborate descriptions of military triumphs. The designs must have been impressive, including illustrations of sieges, parades of captured enemy leaders, and piles of booty, judging by the associated captions.12 None of the larger steles have survived, and their inscriptions are known only in the form of copies on clay tablets, mostly made approximately five hundred years later in Old Babylonian Nippur, Ur, and possibly elsewhere. These copies invariably imitated the earlier form of the monumental version of the cuneiform script and meticulously recorded not only the main narratives but also the aforementioned captions. The most numerous of these,

10. Steinkeller 2013a. 11. Frayne 1993: 10. 12. On these monuments see Goodnick Westenholz 1998; for an attempt at a reconstruction of one example see Buccellati 1993. The inscriptions are edited in Frayne 1993; for the Sargonic years names see now Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 42–​49.

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from Nippur, were made from monuments that stood in the courtyard and perhaps in other areas of the Ekur temple, the central “national” shrine of the god Enlil, to whom they were dedicated. It is impossible to estimate how many of the original celebratory Akkadian objects survived the intervening years or the factors involved in any pruning of the Ekur as later kings added their own memorials there, nor is it possible recover the considerations that determined the choice of texts deemed worthy of replication, just as one cannot gauge the nature of the initial Akkadian messaging control and the choice of facts singled out for the written and pictorial record. The city of Nippur was initially excavated in the last years of the nineteenth century ad, when the findspots of tablets were not precisely registered; therefore there is no record of where the eighteenth-​century bc copies of Sargonic inscriptions were discovered, but they were certainly not part of the regular school curriculum, and not a single one has been recovered in well-​excavated schooling rooms discovered during more modern explorations. The Ur copies were retrieved during the 1920s and 1930s in a house that archaeologists have provided with the modern address “No. 7 Quiet Street.” There have been many discussions of these finds, and because of imperfect recording, some controversies remain.13 This particular Ur building was destroyed at the end of a short-​ lived insurgency against the Babylonian crown, when the armies of king Samsu-​iluna put down the rebellion, took over the city, and inflicted their vengeance; Nippur also participated in the revolt, and most of the houses that were used for scribal instruction there suffered a similar fate.14 It is therefore possible that the majority, if not all, of these copies were 13. For a description of the house see Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 110–​113. Charpin 1986: 424–​434 and more recently Diakonoff 1990: 225–​266; Brisch 2010: 40; Delnero 2016:  32–​36; and Rubio 2016:  250 have discussed the date and contents of this tablet collection and the oppositional role of its literary contexts, including the unique poems concerning Rim-​Sin I of Larsa (or even the possible attribution to Rim-​Sin II), perhaps reinterpreted in light of the rebellion, situating these within the general use of Sumerian literature as a marker of “southern” Sumerian identity formation. 14. Note, however, that someone copied a Naram-​Sin inscription and kept it in the Mari palace decades before the rebellion: Frayne 1993: 154.

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made during the time of the insurgency, although much the same can be said about many of the Old Babylonian Sumerian school texts found in Nippur. There are indications that both the Babylonian king and his local adversaries justified some of their actions by recourse to historical traditions, each claiming their own particular ownership of aspects of past Mesopotamian royal glories, real or imagined. The models of the Akkad kings, Naram-​Sin in particular, figured large in the ideological aspects of the conflict, and this may have been a factor motivating the copying of ancient inscriptions.15 It is not known what other impulses motivated a few teachers at Nippur and Ur to promote this activity or how they chose subjects for their student assignments: Were they trying to preserve whatever had survived in the courtyards, or did they select specific monuments with rebellion-​inspired aims, and if so, what were the criteria for their choices? It is also possible, as already noted years ago by F. R. Kraus, that some of these copies (that were not always the work of advanced students, to say the least) may not have been made from originals, but from copies already made by someone else.16 Briefly stated, the royal inscriptions recounted numerous military events, but their evidentiary weight is difficult, if not impossible, to evaluate. Sometimes they can be correlated with the contents of year names, but in some cases there are few matches between these very different sources of martial information. For example, more year names are preserved from the reign of Naram-​Sin, the fourth king of the dynasty, than from any other Sargonic ruler, and much the same can be said of the royal inscriptions. But with one possible exception, there are no exact matches between events recounted in these disparate source types from his reign. Conversely, most of the year names of Sargon find resonance in his inscriptions. One assumes that the events chosen for use in year names were particularly salient and deemed worthy of such commemoration, sending specific messages of glory to the bureaucrats who had

15. Michalowski 2019a. 16. Kraus 1948: 80–​91. This pertains mainly to Ur; on the general reliability of the copies see Kogan 2011, even if the students may have had some problems with Old Akkadian numbers (Sommerfeld 2008).

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to use them on their tablets, and therefore one expects that such events would also be celebrated on monuments for all to see, as was the case in later periods. This discrepancy is indicative of the levels of selection that guided later generations of minders of history, be they keepers of the architectural spaces where Sargonic monuments stood who pruned out their collections, or teachers and collectors who consciously selected inscriptions for study, pedagogy, and preservation, guided by particular views on the past or contemporary political needs. Indeed, in view of such constraints one has to ask if it is at all possible to write a reliable historical overview of the military exploits and expansionist ambitions of the Akkad polity based on the intentionally and unintentionally selected information that has come down to us. Much of what follows here is speculative and cannot be properly justified or falsified because it is of necessity reliant on the evidence of “textual curtains that veil the fragility of Mesopotamian societies,”17 in this case the five or six generations of the Akkad polity.

10.3.  The geopolitical background The polity first created by Sargon was not static but underwent numerous overlapping structural and ideological transformations and reconfigurations during his own lifetime and throughout the reigns of his successors. The shifting nature of the kingdom eludes easy characterization and evades characterization with any one classificatory label. Many have categorized it as an empire; indeed, it is often depicted as the world’s first imperial power. To a degree, this is a definitional problem; the term “empire” has been uncritically applied to various ancient states, including Mesopotamian polities beginning with Akkad, but there is little agreement on the characteristics of such power structures in comparative perspective, nor is it clear what is gained, from a methodological point of view, by any one label even with a broad comparative agenda in mind. Mario Liverani has recently offered the most incisive discussion of

17. Yoffee and Seri 2019: 194.

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the broader intellectual issues involved, with particular reference to the study of the ancient Near East; for him the first truly imperial formation was Assyria, and after surveying much of the earlier literature on the subject he has offered a definition: “a political-​territorial formation that sets as its program, its goal, to enlarge its borders incessantly to subjugate the rest of the world through direct conquest or indirect control, to the point where its frontiers are coterminous with those of the entire inhabited world.”18 As I argue in this chapter, there is little evidence that the Sargonic polity was construed with such a precise and specific agenda in mind, although it is possible that as it developed, driven by programmatic as well as aleatoric factors, such an imperial vision many have crystallized during the reign of its last major ruler, Naram-​Sin. The rise of Akkad took place in a time of upheaval, entangled in complex geopolitical contexts. During the late fourth and early third millennia bc, the cities of Mesopotamia played an important role as nodes in a dense web of interregional communication and exchange networks that connected various complex and often powerful cultures located in a wide arc, ranging from the Indus Valley to Iran, westward to the Persian Gulf, upstream along the Euphrates and Tigris through Mesopotamia to Syria and on to Anatolia, and northward to the “Bactria-​Margiana Archaeological Complex” (BMAC; also referred to as the “Oxus Civilization”) east of the Caspian Sea, encompassing a far-​reaching area that has been labeled by Gregory Possehl the “Middle Asian Interaction Sphere.”19 These networks incorporated various overland as well as maritime routes that facilitated direct as well as indirect human contacts, carrying goods as well as ideas. Because of the availability of written records, scholars often view this interconnected world from the vantage point

18. Liverani 2017: 6. 19. Possehl 2002; 2007. See, recently, Pfälzner and Soleimani 2015: 106 (with earlier references). On the Oxus Civilization, and on the terminology used to describe it, see most recently Salvatori 2008; 2016. For other recent important analyses of the flow of goods, mainly from the north, see Wilkinson 2014 and Barjamovic 2018, and from the Gulf and points east, see Steinkeller 2013b.

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of Mesopotamian or Syrian polities, but such perspectives misrepresent the relative authority and power dynamics of the time to favor those who were able to leave behind verbal propaganda, habitually aggrandizing their own status and place in the world. And although archaeology has brought to light much new information on the early civilizations in the Caucasus, Anatolia, the Iranian highlands, and the Indus valley, the lack of deciphered native written perspectives constrains the reconstruction of historical events. And yet there are reasons to believe that while Mesopotamian cultural influence radiated far east, with different levels of intensity at various times, and its hunger for precious objects and materials often strongly impacted source and transmission locales, the broader geopolitical region was host to polities that politically and militarily rivaled the smaller city states of Sumer and even the larger territorial entity that Sargon built. Indeed, as Dennys Frenez and Maurizio Tosi summarized it, “As far as we presently know, proto-​Indian economy was one of the largest and more complex coordinated organizations of the Bronze Age, continuously spread over а remarkably wider, and culturally and ecologically more variable domain than those controlled by contemporary early states in Egypt and Mesopotamia.”20 Closer to home lay the rich and likely powerful polity that the Mesopotamians labeled Marhaši, likely to be identified with the Halil Rud Culture of Kerman and Balochistan,21 as well as the kingdom of Anšan, with its capital at the eponymous site (modern Tell-e Malyan) in the modern Iranian province of Fars.22 To the north and northeast, the Upper Mesopotamian and Syrian plains were ruled by powerful kingdoms that likewise easily rivaled the city states of Sumer and Babylonia. The sociopolitical situation across the range of Syria underwent several reversals during the third millennium bc, beginning with a seeming collapse of larger urban areas, but

20. Frenez and Tosi 2005: 68. 21. For Marhaši see Steinkeller 2012; 2014 (with earlier literature). Some scholars do not agree that the Old Akkadian P/​Barahšum was just a variant of later Marhaši, but that view is not accepted here (see, most recently, Pomponio 2012: 100 n. 5). 22. For Anšan see Hansman 1985.

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by the middle of the millennium, at a time contemporary with the Early Dynastic period in Mesopotamia, there is ample evidence of a new urban flowering documented at sites such as Carchemish, Ebla, Mari, and Tuttul, as well as many sites in the Khabur triangle, including Nagar (Tell Brak), Šehna (Tell Leilan), and Urkeš (Tell Mozan) (cf. c­ hapter 8). The polities ruled from these sizable cities were economically grounded in agriculture and herding in an area that did not require irrigation and provided expanses of steppe suitable for grazing sheep and goats. They also maintained ample contacts with surrounding areas, including the thriving cultures on the Mediterranean coast with their stands of trees and their maritime contacts with Cyprus and Egypt. The mountain ranges of Lebanon and Amanus provided cedar and other timber as well as additional products such as olive oil, while stone and precious metals were obtained from Anatolia, and there are also documented contacts with cultures to the north. The most abundant written testimony to these times comes from the royal palace of Ebla; much smaller numbers of roughly contemporary tablets have been recovered from Mari and Nagar, and somewhat earlier, smaller archives were found in rooms at the much smaller town of Nabada (Tell Beydar). The recovered Ebla archives cover forty to fifty years and end abruptly when an unknown enemy conquered the city and burned down its palace, approximately a decade before the beginning of Sargon’s reign. Because there is very little contemporary written information to rival the rich epigraphic finds from Ebla, there has been a consistent tendency to overestimate the size and power of that polity, but as Marco Bonechi, for example, has argued, there are good reasons to assume that this kingdom, powerful though it may have been, was smaller than many have suspected and but one among a number of roughly equal powers in Syria and Anatolia.23 Because of a very different geographical setting, political entities in Syria were often somewhat larger in size than those in Babylonia. During the half century covered by the palace archives, Ebla’s economic and political fortunes were determined within a complex web 23. Bonechi 2016: 77–​84; see already Michalowski 1985: 301.

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of relationships with neighboring powers in all directions, including the better-​known polities of Mari, Nagar, and Kiš, but also with major powers such as Aleppo, Carchemish, and Armi. Kiš seems to have had important relationships with this world; indeed, it is the only Mesopotamian city that is repeatedly mentioned in the Ebla documents, approximately seventy times in accounts from the last decade of the archive, according to the most recent estimates.24 The Ebla chancery tablets were written in a Semitic language that modern scholars refer to as Eblaite. It can be understood fairly well at present, but there are important lacunae in our knowledge. In administrative texts, the Ebla scribes did not spell out verbal forms in syllabic fashion but used equivalent Sumerian words (logograms), with little grammatical information. The political and military relationships of the time have been reconstructed from these writings, but the resulting modern stories are very much dependent on how one understands these logographic renderings. For example, some scholars translate the Sumerian term niĝ2-​kas4 as “war” or “military expedition,” but others are less certain of this interpretation of a word that is otherwise attested only once in a Mesopotamian text and could refer to diplomatic and other journeys. Alfonso Archi and Maria Giovanna Biga have painted a picture of a complex series of military actions that culminated with the destruction of Ebla by Mari but also involved both polities in events taking place in Mesopotamia in the time immediately preceding the time of Sargon.25 According to their interpretations, Mari, and indirectly Ebla, were involved with events concerning the Mesopotamian city of Kiš, with Mari taking part in a war against that city, presumably allied with Enšakušanna of Uruk, while Ebla remained on the side of Kiš. In this historical reconstruction, Ebla encamped close to Mari, but a treaty was

24. On Kiš in Ebla texts see Archi 1987; Pomponio 2013 (with earlier literature) (note that he maintained that the Kiš mentioned in these documents was actually a homophonous city located in the Khabur region and not the northern Babylonian one). 25. Archi and Biga 2003; subsequently, for example, Biga 2003; 2008: 311–​319; 2010; Tonietti 2010.

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signed that saved the city. Three years later hostilities broke out again, and Mari was able to turn matters around to destroy its rival. Between the two wars, Ebla and Kiš concluded a diplomatic marriage alliance when the princess Kešdut, daughter of the last king of third-​millennium Ebla, was sent off to marry the son of the king of Kiš, with a dowry that included more than five thousand animals.26 In hindsight, these were ill-​ starred nuptials; the Ebla palace she grew up in went down in flames, destroyed by Mari but a year later, and in her new home an upstart by the name of Sargon put an end to the reign of her husband’s family.27 This is a compelling story, but much of it is based on translations that can be contested and must remain hypothetical at best. The details are of little relevance in the present context, as is the identity of the destroyers of the Ebla palace; what is significant is the level of disruption in the power relationships in northern as well as southern Babylonia in the times preceding and contemporary with the beginnings of the Akkad polity.

10.4.  Sargon The historical information on the period leading up to the reign of Sargon (ca. 2316–​2277 bc28) is obviously sparse, but there is no evidence to suggest that his rise to power was a meticulously planned project or that it signaled a strategically calculated radical break with earlier political traditions. On the contrary, one may venture to suggest that Sargon was likely an accidental potentate, who benefited from the cumulative efforts of several short-​lived Uruk rulers in the south and from events in Syria that were beyond his control. He appears to have taken power in northern Babylonia, and as far as can be ascertained, the base of his authority was situated in the still undiscovered city of Akkad, which had

26. Archi and Biga 2003: 26–​29. 27. It had been suggested that Sargon, supposedly reigning at Kiš, was alluded to in an Ebla text as “King of Kiš,” but this “does not stand the scrutiny of evidence”: Marchesi 2015: 154. 28. Throughout this chapter, dates are approximate and used only for general orientation, following Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 136.

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been politically insignificant before this moment. The location of his capital has been the subject of inconclusive debates for over a century; two decades ago, Aage Westenholz redirected the discussion by focusing the search to the northern fringes of Babylonia, to the area just south of Samarra on the Tigris River, a suggestion that has found some academic support even if it is not accepted by all.29 This proposal is admittedly speculative but geopolitically highly significant, as it would place the center of the Akkad polity outside of the traditional power centers, on the northern fringes of Babylonia, somewhat distant from Sumer, with natural incentives for northern, western, and northwestern geopolitical orientations. This northern hypothesis is significant in light of later literary stories that placed the origins of Sargon’s rise to power farther south at the court of king Ur-​Zababa of Kiš, stories that cannot be confirmed and may be as fictitious as the many other post-​Sargonic traditions about him and his family. In the second part of the third millennium bc, northern Babylonia had been dominated by the territorial state of Kiš, which structurally resembled the Syrian polities rather than the smaller city states of Sumer.30 As argued by Norman Yoffee, around 2500 bc Kiš was the largest city in the world, populated by tens of thousands of people, but toward the end of the late Early Dynastic period (ED IIIb), just before the rise of Akkad, it suffered at least two defeats.31 Its largest monumental building (Palace A) was sacked, and the remains show signs of a period of abandonment, after which the area was used as a cemetery. A  different monumental building, usually referred to as the “Plano-​Convex Building,” was also despoiled and burned at least twice at the end of this period, with remains of weapons found in the ashes.32 The precise chronology of these events is impossible to reconstruct, and 29. Westenholz 1999: 31–​32; see also Reade 2002: 268–​269; Sallaberger 2007: 425–​ 426. For the most recent summary of the debate on the localization of the city, see Sommerfeld 2014. 30. Ławecka 2014 (with earlier literature); for a skeptical view see Westenholz 2020. 31. Yoffee 2013: 529. 32. Zaina 2015: 193.

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while one may speculate on the identity of the victors, possibly from Uruk, the important fact remains that, like the Syrian principalities to the west, Kiš was no longer a major political, economic, or military force at the time Sargon was consolidating his power, and there is no evidence that he ruled from there or from anywhere else but Akkad.33 Whatever his origins, Sargon managed to consolidate power in northern Babylonia, and his final defeat of Lugalzagesi put all of southern Babylonia in his hands in one fell swoop. During the late Early Dynastic period, southern Babylonia was organized into a galactic system of polities that have traditionally been labeled as city states. These consisted of territories of various sizes in which political power radiated from a single city, sometimes in tandem with a secondary urban center that may have been the center of religious authority. As already noted, these polities, ruled from Adab, Girsu, Umma, Ur, Uruk, Isin, etc., were relatively small compared to contemporary ones in Syria. These city states were mutually interdependent and shared a common “Sumerian” cultural profile that included similar kinship, organizational, religious, and political structures and utilized writing for similar purposes. Although much of the area was multiethnic and multilingual, it shared a common written language—​Sumerian—​ inscribed in a common writing system now referred to as cuneiform. For centuries before the rise of Akkad, these polities were often at war with one another, with shifting alliances and fleeting victories. Thus, Umma and the Lagaš polity centered on the city of Girsu were stuck in a cycle of intermittent confrontations over a piece of agricultural land that divided them, with no permanent military solution. Only a few generations before the rise of Sargon, the polities Ur and Uruk were unified by rulers named Lugalkiginešdudu and Lugalkisalsi, apparently father and son, but then Ur apparently regained its autonomy for a short period of time, only to once again fall into the orbit of Uruk under Enšakušana, who claimed the titles “Lord of Sumer and King of the Homeland.” His successor Lugalzagesi managed to extend hegemony over much of

33. Some would recognize an unidentified “King of Kiš” mentioned in Ebla tablets as Sargon; see n. 7 and cf. ­chapter 9.

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Sumer. A stranger king whose family came from the cultic center of Ereš, he took over the reins of power in Umma, then in Uruk, and in a few years extended his authority over Lagaš, Adab, Nippur, Larsa, Ur, and other southern cities. This was the first documented political unification of Sumer. Little is known about the processes that led to this integration, although if a text from Lagaš lamenting the destruction wrought there is to be believed, some of this was undoubtedly accomplished with ruthless military might.34 The process leading to the conquest of all of Sumer under Lugalzagesi had its roots a few generations earlier, as Uruk rulers not only subjugated Ur but also pillaged Kiš in the north. Enšakušana, Lugalzagesi’s immediate predecessor, repeatedly laid siege to Girsu, the capital of the Lagaš polity, but the war was brought to a successful end by his successor. Thus, Lugalzagesi’s achievement can be viewed as the final moment in the evolution of a longer ideological and political project. In recognition of the common religious and political customs of the time, Lugalzagesi dedicated as many as a hundred inscribed stone vessels to Enlil, the chief deity of Sumer, in his temple in the city of Nippur. The inscription is unique, as for the first time it sets out an imperial program of domination that encompassed not only Sumer but also places far beyond its limits. The second section of the dedication began thus: “When (the god) Enlil, king of all the lands, gave to Lugalzagesi the kingship of the homeland, directed all the eyes (obediently) toward him, put all the lands at his feet, and from east to west made them subject to him; then, from the Lower Sea (i.e., the Persian Gulf ), (along) the Tigris and Euphrates rivers to the Upper Sea (i.e., the Mediterranean Sea), (Enlil) put their roads in good order and from east to west Enlil permitted him no rival.”35 Barring new discoveries, this was the first time that a Mesopotamian ruler had claimed dominion not only over Sumer and adjacent regions but also over the whole known world, from sunrise to sunset, as well as toward the northwest, up the Tigris and

34. This is a unique clay tablet with a royal inscription of Urukagina (Erekagina) of Girsu lamenting the devastation of his city by Lugalzagesi; for the text see Cooper 1986: 78–​79; Frayne 1998: 276–​279. 35. Cooper 1986: 94; Frayne 1998: 436.

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Euphrates across Syria to the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. There is absolutely no reason to believe that Lugalzagesi’s authority reached such far-​flung regions, which were ruled by powerful independent polities, but this is of little consequence. What matters is the geographical ambition expressed in these words and the parallelism between the mundane and transcendent spheres that informs these claims. The Mesopotamian supreme deity, Enlil, had already been described as “King of all the Lands” by earlier kings of Uruk who claimed larger dominion, including the aforementioned Lugalkiginedudu and Enšakušana, as well as by a Lagaš king who may have been a contemporary of the former,36 and this guaranteed his mundane servants the divine sanction necessary to seek control of all the lands watched over by their divine master. This marked a break with earlier traditions of hegemony and kingship that were focused on local matters and saw power within individual dominant cities working internally within the Sumerian galactic cultural sphere. These Uruk kings forged transformations of royal ideals, imagining larger, differently organized polities. It is significant that until this time the universalist projections of Mesopotamian cultural and political authority were limited to the transcendent sphere in claims of dominion. Nevertheless, these ideological developments, which undoubtedly began to transform notions of sovereignty, limitation of power, and the role played by kings and elites, also impacted the manner in which inside/​ outside relations were perceived. Thus, during the final decades of the Early Dynastic period certain Mesopotamian rulers were attempting to remodel the cycles of peace and violence that dominated the relationships between the cities of southern Babylonia by incorporating them into a larger polity. Sargon appeared on the scene while Enšakušana and Lugalzagesi were warring in the south. Little is known about the complex series of events that led to the final result: Lugalzagesi managed to achieve control over 36. Enmetena of Girsu, Cooper 1986:  54; Frayne 1998:  195; Uruk rulers:  Lugalkiginedudu, Cooper 1986:  101; Frayne 1998:  414; Lugalkisalsi (or Lugalkisalesi or Luglagiparesi), Cooper 1986: 103; Frayne 1998: 422; Enšakušana, Cooper 1986: 105; Frayne 1998: 430; and Lugalzagesi, Cooper 1986: 94; Frayne 1998: 435–​437.

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all of Sumer, and when Sargon defeated him, he inherited this integrated kingdom and became the first known master of northern and southern Babylonia. While this was an extraordinary event, its significance is hardly straightforward. As observed by Augusta McMahon, “If we define Akkadian rulers by their ambition to unify and control the southern plains, then Lugalzagesi . . . might be called the first Akkadian king. Alternatively, Sargon, whose actual hegemony was of limited extent, might be considered the last Early Dynastic ruler.”37 Thus, Sargon’s large state-​building project, centered on charismatic kingship and bolstered by universalist claims of world dominion, was not revolutionary but drew on various ideas of power and hegemony drawn from existing southern and northern Babylonian as well as Upper Mesopotamian political traditions. The information on Sargon’s external campaigns derives from two distinct kinds of sources: year names and both inscribed and uninscribed monuments. The year names commemorated victories over the forces of Mari up the Euphrates in Syria and of Urua and Susa in the east, as well as an expedition against Simurrum, which was located to the east of the Tigris in the mountainous region beyond where the Diyala River passes through the Jebel Hamrin mountains and acquires the name Sirwan.38 With the exception of Simurrum, which controlled one of the major routes into Iran, all these places are also mentioned as targets of Akkadian campaigns in the inscriptions. Sargon’s surviving inscriptions and uninscribed monuments are mostly concerned with the king’s Babylonian conquests, perhaps reflecting choices made by the later copyists, and the references to foreign expeditions are mostly laconic, stating simply, “Mari and Elam stood before Sargon,” or “Sargon, king of the universe, who defeated Elam and Marhaši (Parahšum)” in a text that also mentions booty from Urua, with a caption indicating that the plunder was illustrated on the

37. McMahon 2012: 650. 38. On the location of Simurrum see Ahmed 2012: 297–​302; Altaweel et al. 2012: 9–​ 11 (with earlier literature).

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original monument.39 Urua (or Arawa) was likely the ancient name of Tepe Musiyan in the Deh Luran plain, an important locality on a major Zagros range route that connected Susa via Der to the Diyala region and then southwest to northern Babylonia.40 Only two inscriptions describe Sargon’s external wars, without any substantial narrative, providing captions to depictions on now-​lost monuments of captured enemy leaders of Elam and Marhaši as well as various highland and possibly coastal regions and of acquired booty.41 As a result, Sargon was portrayed as “King of the World, Vanquisher of Elam and Marhaši.” If one accepts these claims, it is possible to conclude that Sargon’s armies plundered these areas as well as the Susiana plain and battled over Elam with expeditionary forces from distant Marhaši, perhaps in an effort to protect the vital communication channel that led from Susa through Khuzestan to Babylonia. It is difficult to evaluate the long-​term impact of these military events; it is possible that Susa, Urua, and some other cities were permanently occupied and were administratively incorporated into the Akkad polity, but the details escape us because there is no evidence for such early Sargonic presence in the area.42 A stone monument with a portrait of the king was found in Susa (see figure 10.3), but it is uncertain whether it had originally been erected there or was brought to the city much later as booty from Babylonia.43 In addition, it has been claimed that Sargon crossed the Persian Gulf and invaded Oman (ancient Makkan), but this is based on a highly speculative reconstruction of a damaged passage in two later

39. Frayne 1993: 23. The defeat of Urua was also commemorated in a year name. 40. On the identification of Urua with Tepe Musiyan see Michalowski and Wright 2010 and now Zeynivand 2019. 41. On these people and places see Steinkeller 2018: 185. 42. On the Akkadian occupation of Susa see, most recently, Foster 2016: 73–​75. 43. Foster 2016: 3 fig. 1.2.

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Figure 10.3.  Detail of a stone monument found at Susa. Sargon leading his troops into battle with a caption reading “King Sargon.” Louvre, Paris (acquisition number Sb 1). Photo by ALFGRN, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​ commons.wikimedia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=77534491), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-​SA 2.0) license.

copies of a Naram-​Sin inscription that cannot be used as historical evidence in their present form.44 In the text cited above Sargon claimed that Enlil had promised him the lands from the Persian Gulf to the Mediterranean; the fulfillment of this pledge was spelled out in a paragraph from two almost identical inscriptions, its terse wording providing few significant details: “Sargon, king of the universe, was victorious in 34 battles. He destroyed their city walls as far as the shores of the sea and moored the ships of Meluhha, Makkan and Dilmun at the quay of Akkad town. King Sargon bowed down and prayed before divine Dagan in Tuttul and (as a result) he gave him the Upper Land, Mari, Iarmurti and Ebla as far as the Cedar Forest and the Silver Mountains. King Sargon to whom Enlil granted no

44. Wilcke 1997: 25, where it was suggested that the conquest was accomplished by Sargon (the signs are broken), qualified by “[my father],” which is restored. This has been accepted by Steinkeller 2018: 186, but Naram-​Sin did campaign there, and it is more probable that the passage refers to him.

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rival—​5,400 men dined daily in his presence.”45 These statements resume and significantly expand on the hegemonic claims of Sargon’s Uruk rivals, creating a political dialogue in which dominion over the outside world bolstered charismatic authority over the whole polity. But just how should these statements be unpacked? On the face of it, it would appear that Sargon described a unique expedition from Akkad to the far-​flung regions bordering on the Mediterranean Sea and farther northwest into Anatolia. The manner in which the ruler of Akkad framed the narrative is instructive; the controlling trope of this summary of the king’s deeds is the fulfillment of divine hegemonic sanction. The narrative opens with a precise number of battles won against various enemies, further specifying that he abolished all Mesopotamian opposition by tearing down the city walls of the major power centers down to the Persian Gulf, opening up shipping lanes and welcoming maritime trade from the entrepots at Dilmun (i.e., the island of Bahrain); from Makkan (today Oman) at the southwestern tip of the Persian Gulf, the source of Akkadian copper; and from Meluhha, that is, the distant shores of the Indian Ocean. These interconnections were certainly mercantile, yet they resulted in a profound exchange not only of goods but also of people and their ideas as well. Recent archaeological excavations in Oman have provided evidence of permanent or semipermanent presence of people from the Indus valley in the coastal and inland areas of ancient Makkan.46 Such interactions between eastern Arabia and the Oman peninsula with the robust cultures of the Indus valley began much earlier and were well established by the time of the rise of Akkad, as already noted. More specifically, Sargon claimed that Enlil gave him the “Homeland,” that is, northern and southern Babylonia, and in a semantically parallel fashion proclaimed that Dagan, in his main temple in Tuttul (Tell Bi’a) on the Balikh River, had given him the “Upper Land,” that is, Mari, Ebla, and the lands to the west and northwest as far as Lebanon and Anatolia, the sources of precious woods and metals. This demonstrates

45. Frayne 1993: 28–​29. 46. Méry et al. 2017.

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an understanding of local Syrian traditions:  in texts from Ebla and Mari the god of Tuttul was designated as “Master of the Land” (ba’l/​bēl mātim).47 Finally, the statement that over five thousand men dined in his presence may have been intended to specify that he personally led a core company of loyal soldiers on these expeditions, an image represented in another medium on the aforementioned stone monument found at Susa (­figure 10.3), which shows him leading a group of soldiers, with a caption identifying the portrait of the great king.48 The Adab archives from this time also include mundane accounts that end with a month name and then an annotation: “When Meskigala, governor of Adab, came back from the Cedar Mountains (var. Mountains for Cedar Cutting).” This is significant for two reasons. First, it was clearly a form of year name, which in early Mesopotamia was exclusively the prerogative of sovereigns. The habit of naming years was in its infancy during this time and was applied sporadically and inconsistently; nevertheless, this instance may imply that Meskigala maintained a measure of autonomy, belying the notion of a strong, hierarchical monarchy at the time. This interpretation is bolstered by the evidence of a badly preserved inscription on a stone statue dedicated by an unknown elite individual to a deity for the life of a leader of Adab by this name, likewise suggesting that he enjoyed some level of independence. It has been suggested that Meskigala may have taken part in Sargon’s purported expedition to the Lebanon, and this would certainly have been a memorable achievement.49 But it is equally possible that the Adab leader may have been commemorating an unrelated excursion in the opposite direction. Here, a brief digression is called for. The Sumerian word “eren” (Akkadian erenum), which was used in the texts cited here, is usually rendered in modern Western languages as “cedar” or its equivalent. But

47. Jaquet 2009: 164. Durand (2008: 673; 2012: 128), however, has asserted that this epithet stood for the storm god Addu (Adad) of Aleppo. 48. Foster 2016: 3. 49. On the long career of Meskigala of Adab, who began as a vassal of Lugalzagesi, joined Sargon and was still alive in the time of Rimuš, see Visicato 2010; Pomponio and Visicato 2015: 2–​3; and Molina 2019 (with earlier literature).

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ancient botanical taxonomies do not always correspond to modern ones, and there are good reasons to believe that eren was loosely used as a label for a variety of aromatic conifer trees, including the Lebanon cedar (Cedrus libani), which grew in Mediterranean coastal forests and farther north over a much wider geographical range than it does today, but also for junipers, cypresses, and perhaps certain varieties of pine, all of which grew in the mountains of Lebanon and Anatolia in antiquity and were prized throughout the wider region, used by kings and elites as far off as Sumer and Egypt.50 Although cedars apparently did not grow in Iran, some early texts, including early versions of the Gilgamesh stories, clearly locate eren trees and a “Cedar Mountain” in that region, most probably referring to large junipers.51 Therefore, one cannot rule out the possibility that Meskigala’s expedition ventured east to obtain such timber and had nothing to do with Sargon’s campaign. What transpired during Sargon’s expedition to the northwest is impossible to reconstruct given the data currently at hand. The cited inscriptions provide only generalized statements concerning divinely sanctioned hegemony, nothing else. Two occurrences in an anonymous year name commemorating a defeat of Mari are the only clue outside of the inscriptions concerning any specific events associated with this undertaking; this has been traditionally ascribed to the first king of Akkad, as has the evidence of fiery destruction in the city revealed by archaeologists.52 However, Jean-​ Claude Margueron, who for many years led the Mari excavations, has hypothesized that the city may have been conquered not by Sargon but by his grandson Naram-​Sin, an idea taken up more recently by others as well.53 This would not preclude the ascription of the year name to the founder of the dynasty; it may have

50. On the ancient forest of the regions see Mikesell 1969. 51. Michalowski 1978: 118; 2011: 345–​346; Klein and Abraham 2000. 52. The dating of these two tablets is not unambiguous; Maiocchi 2015:  78 listed them as Early Sargonic on the basis of tablet type and sign forms but is now less certain of this early date (Maiocchi, personal communication, 7 May 2018). 53. Margueron 2004:  310–​312; for a synopsis of the issues involved see now Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 100–​104. On the analysis of the archaeological

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commemorated a military engagement rather than the violent taking of the city. A new perspective on these events has been made possible by the recent publication by Jean-​Marie Durand of a somewhat later tablet from Mari that contains a narrative concerning one Idada, servant of Sargon, who apparently marched on Mari and the nearby city of Terqa (Tell Ashara).54 The text is fragmentary and difficult to understand, but it is possible to conclude, following Durand, that this was the same person as the Idada known from other sources to have been the first in a line of rulers of Mari who reigned there until the eighteenth century bc and that he had ascended Mari’s throne as a vassal or ally of Sargon. Durand also surmised that the partial destruction of the central part of the city of Mari might have occurred during a later local revolt during the reign of Naram-​Sin against kings allied to Akkad. It is noteworthy, indeed unique, that Sargon’s statements do not refer to military conquests during his western expedition but only to the divine sanction of Dagan, the most important deity of the region, and only to resource areas rather than plundered towns. As previously mentioned, it is evident that sometime preceding his reign the balance of power between Ebla, Nagar, and Mari, not to mention other polities in Upper Mesopotamia and Syria, had been completely unsettled and would never again be the same. This must have resulted in serious disruption of long-​established trade patterns, especially access to wood and precious metals that came from the Amanus and the highlands of Anatolia, patterns that had been mediated by the various powers along the way. It is therefore possible that one of the main goals of the expedition, which for all anyone knows may have ended in Tuttul on the Balikh River, was the re-​establishment of communication networks that had been impacted and perhaps even severed during those turbulent times. The order and chronology of Sargon’s military adventures is impossible to reconstruct, and it is likely that he embarked on some of them remains and the difficulties involved in their interpretation see Butterlin 2007; 2018. 54. Durand 2012.

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before the final defeat of Lugalzagesi. What actually transpired during these campaigns is equally opaque. The year names mention only victories over cities, and it is impossible to ascertain if Sargon’s armies achieved any permanent objectives or whether, as is more likely, his military adventures were focused on more ephemeral matters: attaining riches and fame; striving to ward off Marhašian influence and control in Elam and the surrounding areas; and perhaps rebuilding trade and communication networks reaching toward the west, possibly installing friendly regimes in important nodes on the communication routes such as Mari.

10.5.  Rimuš and Maništusu According to later Mesopotamian traditions, Sargon was followed on the throne by two sons, Rimuš and Maništusu (together ca. 2276–​2254 bc), but the singular pre–​Old Babylonian manuscript of the Sumerian King List, copied around 2060 bc, offers the reverse order.55 Here and in ­chapter 9, the traditional sequence is maintained, but it should be kept in mind that there are good arguments to be made for both historical reconstructions. The reign of Rimuš, as far as one can measure from the surviving documentation, began with blistering war and strife. Two matters are the main focus of his inscriptions, recounted in some detail only in later copies: a massive revolt in most of central and southern Babylonia all the way down to the Persian Gulf and a large-​scale military campaign into Iran. No other events of his reign were deemed worthy of inscriptional commemoration; it is impossible to know if this was representative of what the regime of Rimuš sought to proclaim as its central achievements or if this reveals the limited interests of the later copyists.56 From the time of his reign, over a hundred short dedicatory inscriptions on apparently

55. Steinkeller 2003:  238. Arguments for the traditional order Rimuš followed by Maništusu have been made by Westenholz 2014: xiv n. 3 as well as Pomponio and Visicato 2015: 2–​3. 56. For a discussion of the reign of Rimuš see Pomponio 2012.

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plundered stone objects such as vessels and mace heads, placed in temples and possibly in other buildings throughout his dominion, simply state that the artifact was dedicated to a deity by Rimuš, “King of the World,” or add that it originated when he conquered Elam and Marhaši. Surviving exemplars have been found in Girsu, Ur, Uruk, Nippur, Tutub, Nagar, and Assur. One such text, a later copy from a statue inscription, proclaimed that he held “the Upper and Lower Sea and all the mountain regions for Enlil.”57 Such bluster notwithstanding, the precise timing and itineraries of his southern and southeastern wars are difficult to reconstruct. One of the three main inscriptions that offer similar accounts of these events included the notation that the final victory took place in the third year of his reign.58 The descriptions of these events begin with a claim of victory over a king of Marhaši by the name of Abalgamaš in a general introductory statement that summarizes all the events subsequently described.59 The most detailed version then specifies that “Zahara, Elam, Gubin and Meluhha assembled for battle,”60 while another one states that “Zahara and Elam assembled for battle in Marhaši, but (Rimuš) defeated (them) and killed 16,212 men and captured 4,216 captives.”61 Taken literally, this implies that the battle took place in Marhaši, which seems unlikely if the current localization of this toponym in Kerman and Balochistan is correct. Zahara is otherwise unknown. Gubin has variously been localized in Oman, the Zagros, or Bactria; the fact that it occurs alongside Meluhha, that is, a polity or polities in the Indus valley region, strongly suggests a location some distance east of Mesopotamia.62 A  succinct summary states: “Rimuš, king of everything, defeated Abagalmaš, king of Marhaši, in battle and captured his general Sidgau between Awan and 57. Frayne 1993: 59. 58. Frayne 1993: 53; Kogan and Markina 2014: 237–​238. 59. Following Kogan and Markina 2014: 231. 60. Frayne 1993: 58. 61. Frame 1993: 51–​55 (Rimuš 6); see also Steinkeller 2018: 186. 62. See, most recently, Miller and Gadotti 2009: 239–​240 (with earlier literature).

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Susa on the . . . river.”63 The wording of the text is difficult to interpret and may have created problems for Old Babylonian copyists, but it is evident that Rimuš claimed he was facing a coalition of eastern forces assembled in his own territory by the Marhašian king and that he captured his opponent’s general somewhere between Susa and Awan, possibly on the Karun River, in proximity to or at the very location of the final battle, not anywhere near Marhaši.64 The enemy leaders were executed; the Akkadians piled a commemorative burial mound and proceeded to plunder various cities in Elam and to uproot all Marhašian presence from the land. As a result, “Rimuš, king of everything, ruled Elam.”65 Philological difficulties notwithstanding, there can be little doubt that the surviving documentation is witness to a defensive military action organized to ward off a major invasion from the east that targeted Elam and, most important, Susa and the areas of Khuzestan that had probably been annexed by Sargon, who also faced a similar Marhašian invasion. Indeed, the events recounted by Rimuš cannot be considered as part of any Akkadian imperial expansion but rather bear testimony to the aggressive territorial ambitions of the eastern polity, whose power may have equaled if not surpassed that of Akkad. The documentation on the external relations of Akkad during the reign of Maništusu is even more limited in scope. For all practical purposes, the only surviving information on his time on the throne concerns one military venture in southwestern Iran, the Gulf region, and Oman. Standing and seated life-​sized statues of the king made of olivine gabbro stone were erected in all the major cities of the realm, some inscribed with versions of the same “standard inscription” that described the expedition into Iran and then across the Gulf to the source of the material used for the very monument.66 Here, the king’s ability to procure precious stone 63. Frayne 1993: 56. 64. Awan must be localized in eastern Khuzestan. On this see Michalowski 2008: 115 with n. 25; Steinkeller 2013c: 296–​297; 2018: 177. On the difficult reading of the adjective or name qualifying the “river” see Kogan and Markina 2014: 230, 235. 65. Frayne 1993: 88. 66. On these statues see Eppiheimer 2010.

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from far away with great skill was linked not only to his name but also to his very portrait, using mastery of the outside once again for internal self-​representative strategies. The texts were also inscribed on steles that may have been illustrated with scenes of war and booty. Each was dedicated to the patron god of the city in which it was erected, for example Enlil at Nippur, Sin at Ur, and Šamaš at Sippar, and there are small variations in the curse formulae, but they all share the same central narrative. The text begins, “when (Maništusu) had defeated Anšan and Šerihum.” Anšan was a polity centered in Fars; the whereabouts of Šerihum, a polity that had sided with Marhaši against Sargon, is presently unknown, but it may have been located close to the shore of the Persian Gulf on the Iranian side, as suggested by Piotr Steinkeller.67 The place where the battle took place is not specified, but after the victory, “(Maništusu) made . . . ships cross over the Lower Sea (i.e., Persian Gulf ). The cities on the other side of the sea—​thirty-​two of them—​assembled together for battle but he defeated (them). Moreover, he struck down their cities, killed their rulers . . . and plundered (everything) up to the ‘metal mines.’ He mined ‘black stone’ (i.e., gabbro) in the mountains on the other side of the Lower Sea, loaded it on ships and then moored (them) at the quay of Akkad. He then fashioned (this) statue of himself and dedicated it to [Enlil/​Sin/​ Šamaš etc.].”68 Unlike earlier Sargonic dedications, this one specified a particular purpose of an expedition, one that was associated with the very object on which it was inscribed, providing a dual perspective on the self-​representational project at hand. The king succinctly proclaimed his martial and organizational prowess by marching victoriously on both sides of the Persian Gulf, vanquishing a coalition of forces in Makkan and pursuing a very specific objective: the mining of masses of hard black olivine gabbro stone that would then be used to create the numerous statues of the triumphant

67. Steinkeller 2018: 185. 68. Frayne 1993: 75–​76, ll. 9–​46.

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king, proclaiming his glory and mastery over outside lands in word and stone. The strategic intent of these undertakings eludes us. Did the armies of Akkad begin an offensive against enemies in Fars, or did the army of Anšan invade first, causing Maništusu to lead his own troops—​or send them under a trusted general—​to fend off a threat to Susa and other territories under his control, much as his predecessors had done when faced with Marhašian invasions? The subsequent crossing of the waters and the invasion of Makkan appear to us today as an expedition in search of plunder without any long-​term mercantile or military goals. Nevertheless, this must have involved significant strategic and logistic planning. While the military part of this expedition may have been relatively unchallenging given the regionalized political situation in Oman, the necessary mining expertise and organization of transport, both across the Gulf in attack as well as for the maritime return to Mesopotamia with boatloads of large and heavy blocks of stone and other goods, may have been considerable indeed. The “standard inscription” with its bare reporting style creates the impression that all these events were linked together, but it is possible that in fact the war against Anšan and the expedition to Makkan may have been two separate and distinct projects. Such narrative distortions of fact that telescope into a sequence distinct events that sometimes took place years apart are known from Mesopotamian royal inscriptions of later times.69 The only other significant event of Maništusu’s reign presently known is the construction of Dur-​Maništusu (“Fort Maništusu”) recorded in the one year name from his reign, but the location and purpose of this fort remains unspecified.70 The Akkadian enclave in Susa was named Dur-​ Akkad, Fort Akkad, so this may also have designated some such Sargonic community in the midst of a foreign city.

69. Michalowski  2019a. 70. Alkhafaji  2019.

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10.6.  Akkad and the outside world under Sargon and his two sons How can one evaluate the reach of the Akkad polity during the time of its founder and his two immediate successors? A search for policy or strategic patterning at first glance reveals a bewildering scattering of attempts at extending territorial control mixed with one-​time invasions intended to pacify frontier regions or defend such areas against external threats from powerful rivals such as Marhaši and single-​minded raids in search of booty. It is possible, however, that these events, narrated without any deeper contextual information in the commemorative inscriptions, may have been driven by more complex sociopolitical, economic, diplomatic, and ideological motivations, some of which may have been years in the making. This is evident at the very beginnings of the Akkad polity. Sargon claimed two major military undertakings, a war in Elam and an expedition to Syria. The first of these seems to have been a practical move to counter Marhašian interests in Elam and to defend his new military and commercial outpost in Susa. Another military and administrative center was probably in Pašime, located north of the modern town of Amarah at Tell Abu Sheeja between Girsu and Susa and managed by one Ilšu-​rabi,71 described as a governor in a stone monument from the reign of Maništusu and probably the same person who commissioned a stele found in Pašime itself. Other such outposts must have been created in the area. The motivations that drove the expedition to Mari, Tuttul, and perhaps beyond are difficult to trace, and some of Sargon’s claims of glory are suspect, to say the least. Unlike some later razzias, this does not appear to have been a simple search for plunder but may have been driven by more multifaceted stimuli. As previously described, royal pretenses to global rule that encompassed the land as far as the Mediterranean Sea—​ apparently the western limits of the geographical imagination of the time—​were already percolating in Mesopotamia, most vividly expressed in the universal aspirations of Lugalzagesi of Uruk, who claimed, as 71. Hussein et al. 2010.

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already shown, that the god Enlil had given him all the lands from east to west to the Upper Sea (i.e., the Mediterranean) and “put the routes in good order for him.”72 There is no reason to believe that the Uruk master of southern Babylonia ventured to the north and west, but apparently Sargon did, even if it is unlikely that he managed to reach the sea. In doing so, he enacted, or perhaps even generated, a paradigm of heroic royal action in liminal foreign lands that joined two related politico-​ religious principles: the search for cosmologically defined outsiders and outside territory to ensure legitimation of leadership and authority at home coupled with the enactment of unusual great deeds that would be remembered for all time,73 assuring not only historical glory but also favorable treatment in the netherworld. Ordinary mortals had to rely on their offspring to remember them and to tender the ancestor cult and provision them ritually with water that would reach the underworld, but a heroic ruler like Sargon could establish his immortal fame by martial exploits and their commemoration in various media in bronze and stone.74 Such Sargonic monuments emphasized these notions with curses that warned any future king who would wish to erase the name of the hero in the text and insert his own name instead that the gods would, idiomatically stated, “tear out his ‘foundation’ and ‘gather’ his seed,” thus ensuring the inability to generate progeny that would provide for him in eternity. In the north, in what would much later be the heartland of Assyria, the evidence for early control of Akkad over the two major urban centers, Nineveh and Assur, is tenuous at best. Although fragments of Sargonic dedicatory inscriptions and an impressive bronze head that some claim may have been part of a royal statue were discovered in major temples of Nineveh, these were most likely brought there in much later times,

72. Cooper 1986: 94. 73. Such matters have been well explored in the work of Mary Helms (e.g., 1998); see also Michalowski 2019b. 74. Cf. Radner 2005.

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and a solitary Sargonic sealing is likewise of no historical significance.75 The claims of a later monarch of the early second millennium bc, Samsi-​ Addu of Ekallatum (cf. c­ hapter 15 in volume 2), that he found foundation deposits of a temple (re)built by Maništusu lack credibility and are probably reflective of his use of the memory of Akkad as a major component of his own self-​representational strategies.76 The political status of Assur at this time is more difficult to establish. While some scholars assume that it lay under the control of Akkad from the time of Sargon onward, the evidence for this is ambiguous at best, consisting mainly of inscribed and uninscribed objects, as well as a small number of cuneiform tables. A hematite mace head with a short standard inscription of Rimuš was found there,77 and a bronze spear-​head with an inscription of one Azuzu, “servant” of Maništusu, was discovered in the temple of the goddess Ištar.78 The latter was dedicated to the unknown deity Ba’al-​SI.SI, and it is probable that it was a precious object deposited in the temple by some other person who received it through plunder, inheritance, or trade. An uninscribed full-​sized statue of a man was also found in the city and based on comparative criteria has been ascribed to Maništusu, but there are good reasons to believe that this sculpture is probably post-​Sargonic.79 Excavations in Assur also revealed an alabastron with a fragmentary dedicatory inscription to the goddess Ištar-​Annunitum, who was at home in the city of Akkad, but the name of

75. Goodnick Westenholz 2004: 7; Foster 2016: 64 was less skeptical; see also Reade 2011. Reade 2005: 360–​361 provided a new re-​evaluation of the discovery of the bronze head and suggested that originally it may “have been made for dedication at Nineveh, or have arrived there as booty, possibly even as booty from Ashur.” 76. Goodnick Westenholz 2004 strongly doubted that there was any evidence for Akkadian control in Nineveh; for a summary of current views see Orsi 2011: 194; Ristvet 2015: 136–​137. 77. Frayne 1993: 70–​71: ex. 42. 78. Braun-​Holzinger 1991: 88 (MW 5), pl. 5; Frayne 1993: 82. 79. On the reconstruction of the statue see Klengel-​Brandt 1993; on the dating see Eppihimer 2010: 371 with n. 32.

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the Sargonic ruler is not preserved; it is obvious that this object was not originally intended for Assur.80 Other inscriptional evidence is likewise indeterminate from an evidentiary point of view. More than a century ago, approximately fourteen fragmentary unbaked Sargonic clay tablets were found at Assur in secondary context, in what was probably fill from an earlier building. None of these have been published to date, but apparently “the texts, mostly ration lists and lexical lists, are the remains of a Sargonic administrative archive, perhaps for official administration.”81 The city of Assur was mentioned several times in documents from Gasur (later Nuzi, modern Yorghan Tepe), most likely from the time of Naram-​Sin, in a manner that suggests close ties at the least.82 Farther west, evidence of such early Akkadian presence is likewise ambiguous, consisting solely of small portable items that could have been bestowed by rulers but equally could have been brought there in later times; excavations at Nagar (Tell Brak) and Tuttul (Tell Bi’a) have brought to light fragments of inscribed stone vessels with versions of the standard Rimuš inscriptions from the booty of Elam and Marhaši.83 There are not many securely dated early Sargonic documents available, but administrative texts from Umma from the time of Sargon mention people of Elam, Marhaši, and Pašime (Mišime).84 It is difficult to ascertain the precise roles of these people; there can be little doubt that not all relations with the outside world were bellicose in nature, but few such contacts are discernible in the written record of this time.

80. For this inscription see Pedersén 1990: 689. 81. Pedersén 1985: 26; for a more detailed description see Neumann 1997. 82. For references see Schrakamp 2015: 232. Visicato 2001: 471–​472 remarked cautiously that these accounts may have been made in connection with a visit there by an important person, perhaps even a late Sargonic king, maybe even in the context of a military expedition. 83. For the Nagar vessel see Finkel 1985:  201 and Frayne 1993:  70–​72, ex. 43; the Tuttul inscription was identified by Marchesi 2015: 425 (np. 13.2.2.1). 84. References to geographical locations in these Umma texts are from Schrakamp 2015: 256–​257.

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Looking back at the reigns of these first three Sargonic rulers, it is impossible to discern any consistent patterning in regard to external policy; moreover, it is not easy to distinguish between what was administratively internal and what lay outside the core of the polity. Sargon and his sons controlled southern and northern Babylonia and possibly Susa and parts of Khuzestan, with some allied or tributary cities elsewhere, perhaps reaching north up the Tigris to Assur, but probably not more than that—​their claims to universal rule notwithstanding.

10.7.  Naram-​Sin With the ascendancy of Naram-​Sin (ca. 2253–​2198 bc) to the throne of Akkad, historians are provided with a relative abundance of archival, inscriptional, and literary sources, perhaps indicative of a long reign, in accord with later Mesopotamian tradition. Just as with his predecessors, his own inscriptions and year names are the primary sources of information, leaving researchers once more at the mercy of triumphalist discourse. The sources document information on a substantial number of military campaigns that cannot be placed in any plausible chronological order. The critical moment of Naram-​Sin’s reign was an uprising in Babylonia led by three rebel leaders from Kiš, Nippur, and Uruk, “when the Four Corners of the World altogether rebelled against him . . . he was victorious in nine battles.”85 A contemporary inscription on a copper statue found near Bassetki, ancient Mardaman (see figure 10.4), one of several texts that depicts these events, goes further and explains that because the king had defended the kingship of Akkad, the population requested that the main deities of his realm, from Eridu on the edge of the Persian Gulf to Tuttul in Syria, make him a god of their city, and they built a temple to him there.86

85. Frayne 1993: 113. 86. Frayne 1993: 113–​114.

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Figure  10.4. Copper statue of a protective deity with an inscription of Naram-​Sin. From Mardaman (modern Bassetki). Iraq Museum, Baghdad. Photo by Karen Radner.

In some texts from his reign and in later copies, Naram-​Sin’s name is preceded by the cuneiform sign that means “deity,” a convention otherwise used only for divine names. The consequences of this apparent deification are difficult to trace, but for historical purposes this seemingly provides a temporal cesura: events described in texts that have the deity symbol before his name should have taken place subsequent to the grand rebellion, although it must be stressed that the timing of this event cannot be placed within his reign. Unfortunately, although this is a widely accepted method of ordering Naram-​Sin’s wars, it is not as reliable as one would wish. As previously observed, it is known from later examples that royal dedicatory inscriptions sometimes recounted events that had taken place years before a votive or building event was commemorated in writing. In one inscription, Sargon’s grandson celebrated an expedition against enemies in Iran, crossing the sea and invading Oman (ancient

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Makkan), apparently in the footsteps of Rimuš.87 Following the narrative of this text, the expedition took place after the revolt, which is mentioned first, and yet Naram-​Sin’s name bears no mark of divinity. The original was apparently inscribed on a bowl or vase used for oil, but judging by the length of the text, this must have an impressive vessel indeed, making the later copy somewhat suspect. Four stone bowls and vases from Ur, however, possibly from Babylon and elsewhere, carry inscriptions identifying them as part of the Makkan booty; here, as in the commemorative text cited previously, there is not a trace of the divinity symbol before the king’s name.88 And yet another inscription from a stone statue base found in Susa also mentions the victory against the rebellion and then describes the Makkan campaign, in even more detail, and here Naram-​ Sin’s name is fully deified.89 The difficulties of deciphering the meaning of Naram-​Sin’s claims of victory and territorial control surface in the analysis of his idiomatic assertions of power. He was the first king to utilize the title “King of the Four Corners of the World,” but the full range of meanings of this cosmographic epithet eludes us.90 One usually interprets this as an assertion of universal dominion, yet in describing the great revolt the king’s scribes regularly stated that the “Four Corners of the World” had risen against him, even though it is certain that the rebellion only encompassed southern and northern Babylonia and did not spread to outlying conquered and vassal areas, revealing the flexible, sometimes hyperbolical, metaphorical use of the expression. Occasionally, Naram-​Sin used different, more specific cosmographic language; one later copy from Ur (made by a beginner scribe or a less than averagely skilled student) described the king as ruling over “all of the land of Elam as far as Marhaši and the land of Subartu as far as the Cedar Forest.”91 This is an ambitious assertion,

87. Frayne 1993: 95–​99. 88. Frayne 1993: 99–​100. 89. Frayne 1993: 116–​118. 90. Glassner 1984; Michalowski 2010. 91. Frayne 1993: 130.

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to be sure, describing his power and control on an axis that ran from the far northeast across the mountain regions almost to the edge of the Mediterranean Sea in the northwest. In light of these facts, a geographically oriented survey of Naram-​ Sin’s foreign engagements will have to suffice. To the south, his armies mounted an expedition to Makkan in Oman, as previously mentioned. According to one account, the troops were dispatched there from the other side of the Persian Gulf, as Maništusu had done before him, suggesting that the staging area was in the regions on the eastern shore that had been conquered by earlier kings. This eastern area, including Susiana and Khuzestan, remained securely in Akkadian hands or under the control of allies throughout Naram-​Sin’s reign. The one place that provides unequivocal evidence of the permanent presence of Sargonic administration is the city of Susa, located in the Iranian lowlands, which for millennia served as a gateway to the eastern highlands from Mesopotamia and which was periodically within its orbit and at other times fully independent, often the center of a major independent kingdom. The relevant evidence consists of excavated buildings that have been labeled “Akkadian” and almost a hundred economic cuneiform records from late Sargonic times, from the latter part of Naram-​Sin’s reign, probably extending into the sovereignty of his son Šarkališarri and then into the time when Ilišmani, the governor of Susa and its province, became an independent ruler as the power of Akkad dissipated. As described succinctly by Foster, the documents “give a picture of a self-​sustaining Akkadian enclave, under the direction of an Akkadian governor, which may have been called Dur-​Agade, ‘Fort Akkad.’ ”92 While this documentation is relatively small and distributed over several archives, the information it provides is rich enough to provide a portrait of a settlement of people from various parts of Sumer and Akkad (although most of them may have come from the Umma region) that was self-​sufficient in terms of food procurement; included

92. Foster 2016: 73. The place name Dur-​Akkad (with the name of the city Akkad deified) was mentioned only once in Dossin 1927: no. 8: 4. For descriptions of Sargonic Susa see Foster 1993; 2016: 73–​75.

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a broad array of workers/​soldiers, artisans, administrators, and private entrepreneurs engaged in short-​and long-​distance trade; and facilitated diplomatic communication between Akkad and other powers of the time. Susa was located at the crossroads of land and water routes that connected the city with the Iranian highlands, the Persian Gulf, lands to the east as far as Balochistan, and all the major cities of Mesopotamia. The available Sargonic texts are late, but there is evidence that the area was controlled, perhaps not continuously, by Akkad at least as far back as the reign of Sargon, as previously noted. There is no descriptive evidence of any specific wars in Elam or farther east during Naram-​Sin’s time, although one inscription, on multiple stone mace heads, includes the unique statement that the king was the “conqueror of Armanum, Ebla and Elam.”93 This may refer to some otherwise undocumented campaign but more than likely was an idiosyncratic eastern extension of the standard claim of victory in the west to express universal dominion. On a more practical level, there are signals of reliance on commercial and personal contacts as well as diplomacy to keep peace on this flank of the Akkad polity. Documents from Susa include mention of foreigners from Anšan and Marhaši in the Iranian highlands, from Makkan and Dilmun in the Persian Gulf, and even from distant Meluhha.94 A unique tablet, written in elegant classic Sargonic script but in the Elamite language, recorded what is most likely a treaty with a ruler of an independent Iranian polity, even if the names of the ruler and his land are not preserved.95 This could not have been the only document of this kind and is indicative of the policies that Naram-​Sin’s administration pursued in the east, freeing its military forces for action elsewhere. Even though the translation of the text is uncertain in many places, in at least two passages the Elamite king pledged to set up or honor statues of

93. Frayne 1993: 167. 94. The geographical references in the Susa accounts are tabulated in Schrakamp 2015: 259–​260. 95. The other protagonist is usually cited as Hita of Awan, but that is simply a guess; the name is not preserved. The Elamite text is extremely difficult. For an attempt at a German translation see Hinz 1967.

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Naram-​Sin; this means that the presence of Akkadian monuments in a city does not necessarily signal that it was under occupation and could also be indicative of allied or tributary status. Walter Hinz speculated that the treaty referred to the marriage between the Akkadian king and the daughter of the other signatory, but this is only conjecture based on repeated invocations such as “may your wife be fruitful” and similar expressions.96 Whether or not this can be surmised from this treaty, the late Akkadian kings certainly pursued a policy of binding allies by means of diplomatic marriages, a tradition well-​attested in earlier times in the Ebla documents.97 Northwest of Susa, the overland routes may have led to the city of Der (Tell al-​Aqar), a crucial node on the route to Mesopotamia and to points farther up the mountains and valleys of the Zagros. Otherwise, nothing is known about the city, which has never been excavated and is mentioned only in texts from Susa and perhaps in a solitary reference from Ešnunna. Farther on toward Mesopotamia in the Hamrin region lay the Akkadian outpost at Awal (Tell es-​Suleimeh), where excavations have revealed a small number of administrative tablets, probably from the time of Naram-​Sin.98 Awal was likely a major Sargonic provincial center ruled by a governor, surrounded by smaller sites; some mounds in the area have yielded Old Akkadian period pottery and other items but except for one tablet from nearby Tell Baradan,99 no texts. Awal and the establishments in the Hamrin basin may have served as the staging grounds for military expeditions documented by inscriptions and year names that refer to battles in the Iranian highlands east and northeast of this region. Several important roads interconnected in this area, including the already mentioned southeastern route from Susa via Der; a route moving northwest to Gasur and then on to Upper

96. Hinz 1967: 95. 97. On these marriage alliances see Biga 2014; Tonietti 2005. 98. Visicato 1999; Forster 2016: 61–​62. 99. Published in Kessler 1995: 284.

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Mesopotamia; and the route that Naram-​Sin’s armies took to attack Simurrum, Lullubum, and other presently unlocalized principalities farther up into the headwaters of the Diyala/​Sirwan River. A  recent survey on the Sirwan of the area between Kalar and Darband-​i Khan has documented several large multiperiod sites that are indicative of the rich cultural history of the region.100 Several texts and year names mention conquests of place names that can be identified as belonging to the Hurrian language, and those also appear to have clustered in the area of Simurrum and Lullubum.101 The Lullubum campaign is illustrated on a stele that in modern times has been the most celebrated artistic product from Naram-​Sin’s reign (see figure 10.5).102 Lullubians are mentioned in documents from his time from various archives, including those of Gasur, Girsu, and Susa. Some of these texts may refer to prisoners of war, but others document more peaceful contacts. These events aside, the main focus of Naram-​Sin’s expansion policies was directed to Upper Mesopotamia, then west, all the way to the Mediterranean coastal regions and north into Anatolia, primarily up from Syria by means of the Tur Abdin highland. One year name celebrated the defeat of Mardaman, which recent archaeological work has identified as modern Bassetki north of Mosul, the very place where a copper statue with an inscription of Naram-​Sin (­figure  10.4) was found.103 This provides an anchor of sorts, precisely localizing one of Naram-​Sin’s conquest areas, leading farther north to where other targets such as Talmuš and Simanum were located. Still another campaign was directed toward the northern Tigris area and the region west between that river and the Jebel Sinjar, defeating numerous towns, culminating in a victory over a coalition of northern principalities at Azuhinnum, one

100. Casana and Glatz 2017. 101. For a summary of these and the probable locations of the targets see Sallaberger 2007: 425–​431. 102. Naram-​Sin’s Victory Stele (Louvre, Sb 4) is discussed, for example, by Winter 1996; 1999; 2002; 2004. 103. On the excavations at Bassetki and the identification of the site as ancient Mardaman see Pflätzner and Qasim 2017; 2018.

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Figure  10.5.  The “Victory Stele” of Naram-​Sin celebrating the defeat of Lullubians. Found at Susa but originally probably erected in Sippar. Louvre, Paris (acquisition number Sb 4). Photo by Rama, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​commons.wikimedia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=2966753),  Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 3.0 France (CC BY-​SA 3.0 fr) license.

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of the few geographical names that is encountered both in inscriptions and year names of Naram-​Sin: “In the year that Naram-​Sin was victorious in a battle against (the united forces) of the North (Subartu) and captured Tahiš-​atal.”104 There were two cities by that name. The western Azuhinnum was located north or northwest of the Jebel Sinjar; in still another inscription it was associated with Kurda on the southern flank of this highland, probably at Balat Sinjar, in an important strategic location on roads from the Tigris and the lower and middle Khabur valley, later occupied by the Roman fort of Singara.105 The same fragmentary text also mentions the town of Nahur to the west of the Khabur triangle, and although the context is unclear, it would suggest that the entire triangle was accessible to the Akkadians.106 Naram-​Sin’s forces also marched against Talhatum,107 claiming this as a unique expedition that no king had previously attempted. Later sources indicate that this city, on the route from Assyria to Anatolia, lay northwest of the Khabur.108 Apparently this principality was of key importance in local power networks because, as a result, “the princes of Subartum (i.e., Upper Mesopotamia) and the kings of the Upper Lands brought their food offerings to him.” All of this points to a cumulative effort to subordinate Upper Mesopotamia from the Tigris westward to beyond the Khabur region and farther into southeastern Anatolia. The archaeological and historical aspects of these activities are addressed later in this section. Sometime during these wars the king also claimed to have personally killed a wild bull at Mount Tibar when he defeated a city whose name means nothing to us.109 The identity of this mountain is uncertain;

104. For this year name see Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 46; the campaign is detailed in at least two inscriptions: see Frayne 1993: 124–​125, 140–​143. 105. Oates 1956; on the identification see Ziegler and Langlois 2017: 196–​197. 106. On the location of Nahur see Ziegler and Langlois 2017: 243–​245. 107. Frayne 1993: 131. 108. See Michel 2013 (with a discussion of earlier literature) and now Ziegler and Langlois 2017: 357–​358. 109. Frayne 1993: 127.

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Marten Stol proposed that it corresponds to the modern Jebel Abd el-​ Aziz, but Jean-​Marie Durand expressed due skepticism.110 There is some evidence that Naram-​Sin viewed the regions north and northwest of the environs of his capital differently than other areas of conquest, apparently motivated by a multifaceted set of practical and ideological attitudes. The language of his inscriptions contains passages that directly riffed on the narratives of his predecessors, most prominently on those of Sargon, including one or two year names commemorating expeditions to the Cedar Forest, that is, to the Amanus Mountains close to the Mediterranean coast. A copy of an inscription from Ur contains phraseology that seems to directly engage his grandfather’s claims, outdoing him all the way. The text begins with the statement that not since the time of human creation had any king destroyed Armanum and Ebla. While the location of the latter is well known, that of the former is disputed; if this was the same place as Armi, well known from the earlier Ebla archives, then it may have been located in the northern Amanus area.111 Naram-​Sin then asserts that “by means of the weapons of divine Dagan, who makes grand his kingship, the mighty Naram-​Sin conquered Armanum and Ebla,”112 and repeats his dependence on Dagan twice more in the same inscription. It is impossible to ignore the direct challenge to his grandfather, who had so righteously maintained the god’s bequest of Mari and Ebla years before. The venture into the Amanus and the land of “cedars” was cited once again in a different context, in which the timber from such a campaign was used to rebuild a temple of the goddess Ištar; the same inscription declared that Naram-​Sin had reached the sources of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, evidencing the king’s most northern ambitions. This feat was also commemorated in a year name, “year that Naram-​Sin

110. Stol 1979: 25–​29 (with references to previous suggestions that placed Mount Tibar in the Amanus range); Durand 1991: 88 n. 30. 111. Thus Bonechi 1990: 34–​37; 2016: 78 n. 299. Armi (Armanum?) has also been localized at Tell Banat in Syria or farther north at Samsat; see Bonechi 2016: 78 n. 299 (with bibliography). 112. Frayne 1993: 133, ll. i 30–​ii 7.

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reached the sources of the Tigris and Euphrates and defeated Šenaminda in battle.”113 Modern exploration and later Assyrian inscriptions demonstrate that the “Source of the Tigris” was a term used to designate the “Tigris Tunnel” of the Birkleyn cave system near the modern town of Lice, 25 km north of Diyarbakir.114 Like later searches for the sources of the Nile, this was undoubtedly an endeavor driven by multifaceted impulses, from the mundane search for treasure to the pursuit of glory and the legitimization obtained by association with cosmographically loaded distant lands, “the place where the water comes out” according to the Assyrian king Shalmaneser III (858–​842 bc).115 Indeed, the king’s scribes did not even bother to note that this was something no one had ever achieved before, as this was self-​evident. The mention of defeating Šenaminda in the same sentence with the almost mythical sources of the two rivers might indicate that this took place during the same expedition. Uniquely, the human spoils from this conquest can be traced in documents from Sumer and Akkad that let us in on the fate of some of Naram-​Sin’s prisoners of war. A Late Sargonic tablet from Girsu provides an account of boxes containing documents concerning “slaves from Šenaminda who are present.”116 More ominous are texts from Girsu and possibly Umma that list enslaved women and their children from the city (and in Girsu also from the otherwise unidentified Kakanišum) who had belonged to various elites but who were either dead or had escaped from captivity.117 Other texts provide the names of various places, mostly unlocalized, that must have been in Upper Mesopotamia and in areas still farther

113. Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 45–​46. The expedition is also mentioned in an inscription: see Frayne 1993: 140. 114. Schachner 2009; also Harmanşah 2007. 115. Álvarez-​Mon 2014: 746. 116. De Genouillac 1911: no. 4690 rev. i 1, possibly from the time of Šarkališarri; see Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 117. See also Sommerfeld 1999: Tutub 10 rev. 2. 117. De Genouillac 1911: no. 4701 = Foster 2018: 36–​37 (L. 4701a, Girsu); Abid and al-​Dahab 2015: no. 87 (Umma?).

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north. Material proof of the king’s ventures north of the Khabur triangle was found in 1892 by a Turkish lawyer who discovered a broken ancient monument used in rebuilding a modern well in a village on the outskirts of the mound of Pir Hüseyin, just downstream from the Birkleyn cave system. This turned out to be a basalt stele carved with a depiction of Naram-​Sin that included a damaged text concerning a military victory (see figure 10.6).118 Much of the preserved section is taken up by a portrait of the monarch seen in left profile. Rather than the horned symbol of divinity featured on the “Victory Stele” (­figure 10.5), the king wears a banded conical hat that Paolo Matthiae has compared to headdresses worn in earlier representations from Ebla, certainly of a military character but perhaps also a symbol of royalty.119 It is therefore possible that by adopting Syrian monarchic symbolism, Naram-​Sin’s regime was once again acknowledging local political language, this time in art rather than in writing. A modern survey of the area has revealed that the citadel of Pir Hüseyin was surrounded by a larger town. The monument therefore came from a substantial Bronze Age city of more than 19 ha, one of the largest in the area, that ceramic finds demonstrate to have been in contact with Upper Mesopotamia. At the site, pottery of a kind previously found at Tell Brak and elsewhere in Akkadian and post-​Akkadian levels was identified that can be shown to have been produced in Anatolia and exported to Syria.120 The ancient name of this city is unknown, but the fact that the stele remained there, without any traces of purposeful damage, suggests that it was either occupied by or allied with Naram-​ Sin’s regime and had contacts with areas to the south. The Birkleyn cave and Pir Hüseyin were the farthest northern places mentioned by any Sargonic king, but this should not by any means be considered the limit of Naram-​Sin’s reach. Valuable resource areas such as the Ergani Maden copper mining region and the forests of the Taurus lay farther

118. Frayne 1993: 128–​129. 119. Matthiae 1980; 1989: 308–​309; see Marchesi and Marchetti 2011: 209 n. 126. 120. Peasnall and Algaze 2010.

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Figure  10.6. Fragmentary inscribed basalt stele of Naram-​Sin, found at Pir Hüseyin (eastern Turkey). Istanbul Archaeological Museum. Photo by Levi Clancy, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​commons.wikimedia.org/​w/​ index.php?curid=70057114), Creative Commons Universal Public Domain Dedication (CC0 1.0).

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north, and it is conceivable that the Akkadian armies may have ventured in those directions as well. The immediate consequences of all of this are unknown, but there are good indications that Urkeš (Tell Mozan) was strongly invested in the procurement of copper and other metals from Anatolia, and such military activity and the possible concurrent Akkadian appropriation of this business may have clashed with the interests of this allied polity.121 Down from the Upper Tigris region through the Tur Abdin highlands lie the plains of the Khabur triangle, defined by tributaries of the Khabur River and to the south by the mountains of Jebel Abd el-​Aziz and Jebel Sinjar. Using both archaeological and textual evidence, Harvey Weiss and his collaborators have reconstructed an influential historical scenario that seeks to explain the Akkadian presence in the Khabur plains. The region lay securely in a zone that permitted rain-​fed agriculture, providing ample crops of grain that was stored in larger centers and then loaded on boats and sent down the Khabur to the Euphrates and on to Babylonia. Weiss claimed that “northern Mesopotamia was agro-​imperialized by southern Mesopotamian Akkadians,”122 or more specifically that it served “the generation and extraction of cereal harvest surpluses and their shipment to the imperial capital in southern Mesopotamia.”123 This is a compelling narrative but open to question. Most important, one has to assume that the central Akkad polity could not feed its own people or produce enough grain surplus for export without colonizing a remote area in Upper Mesopotamia. After all, the Sargonic administration controlled all the rich farming resources of Babylonia, and there is no indication that these had suddenly become inadequate in any manner; nothing suggests any decline in crop production or any massive population increase that would require expending

121. On the movement of metals from Anatolia south see Kelly-​Buccellati 1990 and now Wilkinson 2014: 221–​222; Massa, McIlfatrick and Fidan 2017; Massa and Palmisano 2018b. 122. Weiss 2012: 2. 123. Weiss 2013: 106.

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substantial military and organizational energy to supplement these grain resources by such expensive means. The textual information marshaled in support of this may likewise not stand up to the task. To cite Weiss once again: Large grain shipments from NAGARki, likely Tell Brak . . . , were removed from the Khabur plains and collected at imperial Sippar (CT 1: 1b, 2,7; 1c, 12). By which waterborne route were these tons of cereal harvest dispatched to Sippar . . . ? Also on the Khabur plains, the 379 tons of river-​transported emmer probably received at the 5-​hectare small town at Chagar Bazar (Chagar Bazar A.391; CDLI P212515) were destined for which storehouses?124 The second reference provided by Weiss refers to a small sealed clay bulla from Chagar Bazar that was likely attached to a string connected to a container of grain. At present there is no evidence of any Akkadian rule at Chagar Bazar; the script on the bulla is Sargonic, but the seal is from an earlier time, and the receipt could have been written in the name of unaligned locals. The three-​line text of the clay bulla is too opaque to translate: in its first line, it mentions one item, emmer and a watercraft; the next line has the number 160 without any measuring unit (and therefore does not necessarily stand for 379 tons); and the final line has an otherwise unattested place name, Elšum. The first text mentioned by Weiss, which is often cited in discussions of Akkadian presence in the Khabur area, is likewise open to different interpretation. This receipt is not easy to understand; as things stand it lists measured-​out grain associated with three cities, Sippar in northern Babylonia, a place written as NAGAR, and a third one named Šar-​Sin (or Lugal-​Suena). This third place was undoubtedly a hamlet or small town not far from Sippar, named after a local person; such names are not attested in the Khabur region. It is therefore likely that NAGAR

124. Weiss 2017: 135–​136.

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in this text is not Tell Brak at all, but yet another agricultural center in Babylonia.125 The archaeological documentation is equally opaque. Without explicit textual evidence, it is often quite difficult to identify Akkadian material presence at a peripheral site, even though many excavation reports have labeled strata as “Akkadian,” apparently using the term in a chronological rather than sociopolitical manner. It is not even clear how to go about establishing an Akkadian “presence” outside of cities such as Nagar, with its stamped Naram-​Sin bricks. Pottery, the main tool for identifying “archaeological cultures,” is of little help because it is difficult to distinguish between pre-​Akkadian, Akkadian, and post-​Akkadian pottery at present.126 In broader terms, the search for material markers of Akkadian “imperial” control is theoretically suspect, as many archaeologists well recognize. As observed by Richard Wilk, “The fallacies of ‘marching potsherds’ and identifying cultures with diagnostic artifacts have long been critiqued by archaeologists, most of whom recognize that archaeological cultures are analytical constructs. Nevertheless, the prevailing mode in many parts of the world is still to use monolithic cultural entities like ‘The Maya’ and ‘The Khmer’ and to act as if these labels had ethnic, linguistic and cultural unity, with frontiers and capitals just like the imagined communities of nineteenth and twentieth century Europe.”127 A major trait of Akkadian “imperialization,” according to Weiss and his associates, was the presence of mass-​produced conical clay bowls that were supposedly used to provide grain rations to workers. These “sila-​ bowls,” as they have been named in reference to a Mesopotamian measure of capacity equivalent to roughly one liter, have been found in cities of the middle and eastern Khabur valley. There are reasons to question

125. Schrakamp 2015: 257 came to a similar conclusion, albeit for different reasons. The name of the city in the Khabur triangle is usually written as Na-​gar3ki; the only possible example of Nagarki is in a dedicatory inscription for the sake of the Pre-​Sargonic Mari king Yiplus-​il and his wife: Frayne 1998: 323. 126. Pfälzner and Sconzo 2016: 37–​38 (with earlier literature). 127. Wilk 2004: 84.

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the use of these vessels as evidence for Akkadian administrative control. First, as noted by Walther Sallaberger and Alexander Pruß, although at Akkad-​controlled Šehna (Tell Leilan) there is evidence for mass uniform production of such bowls, this is not necessarily the case elsewhere in the vicinity; for example, at Nabada (Tell Beydar) they were “not of a standardized size and were not found in large quantities,” and the authors have suggested that they may have been used for soup or a similar product rather than for grain.128 Second, such bowls have also been excavated at Urkeš (Tell Mozan), the center of a major polity that was not under the direct control of Akkad, even if its queen was the daughter of Naram-​ Sin (see later in this section).129 Third, as stressed by several archaeologists, these “sila-​bowls” were already in use in Syria at places such as Urkeš and nearby Tell Barri before the posited advent of Sargonic administrative control.130 Nagar (Tell Brak) provides the one undisputed, unequivocal example of a northern Syrian city occupied by a Sargonic administration, comparable to Gasur (Yorghan Tepe) in northern Iraq. Excavations conducted in the 1940s at the site revealed the remains of a very large building constructed with unbaked bricks, some of which were stamped with the deified name of king Naram-​Sin, but it is possible that the Sargonic presence at the site may have begun earlier.131 The monumental structure of this building occupied an area of over a hectare, with 10 m thick external walls.132 It apparently only had one floor and was built around 128. Sallaberger and Pruß 2015: 118 with n. 131. 129. On such bowls at Urkeš see Buccellati and Kelly-​Buccellati 2000: 179. 130. For example, Ławecka 2000:  104; Orsi 2008:  703; Pfälzner 2012:  75, n.  114 (“however, this type represents as typical local Early Jazirah III b and IV pottery . . . and thus cannot be seen as evidence of a foreign administrative system in the Khabur region”). 131. It is not certain how many of the bricks were stamped in this manner, and there seem to have been at least two separate such stamps that were used. Mallowan 1947: 66 stated that “many” of the bricks were thus marked, but Finkel 1985: 189 noted that when a rainstorm caused a tumble of forty or fifty bricks, only two were stamped. Only seven exemplars are currently known. 132. Mallowan 1947: 63.

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a large courtyard, with at least three other smaller courtyards and forty or more small rectangular storage rooms, three of which held carbonized remains of grain (mostly barley but also some wheat). The labor and resources required for the construction of the building were impressive; according to David Oates, the work on just the foundations of the outer wall “would have required for 810,000 bricks and their mortar the straw from more than 13 sq km of cultivation.”133 It is difficult to estimate the amount of straw necessary to construct the rest of the building, but it must have been formidable. More recent excavations have revealed other monumental structures that were most likely contemporary with the Naram-​Sin building, leading the archaeologists in charge of the excavation to speculate “that Brak may have been the capital of the whole northern province of the Akkadian empire under Naram-​Sin, an impression that is certainly supported by its size and the grandeur of its public buildings.”134 All of this construction must have taken some time to complete and required not only sizable investment in labor and material, including massive amounts of straw, but also complex planning and logistical support. The organization, care, and feeding of the workforce alone would be indicative of an established ample bureaucracy made up largely of individuals who had moved there from Akkad and its environs. Four rich hoards of silver and precious stone objects from the time of the Sargonic occupation of Brak provide evidence of the well-​to-​do persons in the city at the time.135 Nevertheless, as observed by Jason Ur, “certainly there was direct Akkadian administration of Tell Brak but whether it lasted a year, a decade, or for Naram-​Sin’s entire reign, or if it extended beyond Tell Brak, is entirely unknown.”136 Harvey Weiss has invoked multiple types of information to argue for a strong Akkadian presence at Šehna (Tell Leilan) as well.137

133. Oates 1990: 390. 134. Oates and Oates 1989: 210. 135. Matthews 1994. 136. Ur 2010: 407–​408. 137. For example, Weiss 2013.

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Urkeš (Tell Mozan), not far north of Nagar, was ruled by a powerful, independent dynasty allied to Akkad by a dynastic marriage, as documented by seals mentioning queen Taram-​Akkad, “She Loves Akkad,” daughter of Naram-​Sin.138 The small but significant epigraphic finds from Urkeš shed important light on the use of cuneiform writing in Syria during the time of the Sargonic rulers. The city was independent of Akkad, even if connected to it by royal marriage, and the tablets found there were therefore not indicative of any Sargonic occupation. One of the tablets was written in Hurrian, and it is possible that the same may hold true for at least two other accounts, albeit from a different archival setting.139 Notably, from the paleographic point of view, the Urkeš tablets appear to have been written at different times and reflect changes in sign forms that took place in Akkadian writing, demonstrating that different generations of local scribes or bureaucrats were learning from people who were taught by others, perhaps coming from Nagar, who had been trained in the latest manner of writing that emanated from Akkad.140 Furthermore, the Urkeš tablets written according to the Sargonic writing conventions demonstrate that the discovery of such accounts in an archaeological site cannot necessarily be used to argue for Sargonic occupation, unless the contents and other archaeological data provide additional information. At Urkeš, the stray accounts must be the remnants of larger archives, as noted by Giorgio Buccellati and Marilyn Kelly-​Buccellati,141 but at Chagar Bazar, “a seal impression and two fragmentary inscribed clay bullae from Mallowan’s excavations may indicate contact with the Akkadian presence, but the directness and impact of

138. Buccellati and Kelly-​Buccellati 2002. 139. Maiocchi 2011. 140. For a discussion of the changes in Sargonic writing habits and paleography see Maiocchi 2015. The discovery of a school tablet inscribed with a lexical text probably indicates that such activity was done at Urkeš itself: Buccellati 2003. 141. Cited in Maiocchi 2011: 1 n. 2.

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this contact are so far unknown,” as observed by the archaeologists who have most recently worked at the site.142 To understand the situation in the Khabur triangle and the surrounding regions requires a digression on one of the most curious episodes of Naram-​Sin’s reign, namely his victory over a coalition of southern Babylonian rebel cities led by one Amargirid, who had taken over power in Uruk, part of the “Great Revolt” against the Crown.143 The king of Akkad first defeated a northern Babylonian insurgency led by Kiš, but his war with the southern uprising took a different turn with seemingly baffling geographical parameters. The inscription that offered the official version of these events, known from several later copies, is the longest third millennium bc royal text currently known; Benjamin Foster justly described it as “a masterpiece of its kind.”144 The circumstances surrounding the first encounter between the forces of Amargirid and Naram-​Sin are not easy to unravel, and the analysis is marred by a long break in the midst of a crucial passage. According to the text as it now stands, the Uruk king gathered his forces for a stand between the city of Ašnak and Urutigi (the reading is uncertain); Naram-​Sin, having just vanquished the Kiš-​led rebellion, hastened to confront him there. The two place names occur one after another in an Early Dynastic list of geographical names in a context that suggests locations on the Tigris River, so the battle must have taken place in northern Babylonia, upriver from where the armies of the Kishite uprising had been defeated. The break that follows obscures the story as reported by the Akkad king; it is obvious, however, that he was not able to put an end to Amargirid’s revolt. When the text becomes readable again, it shows that the Urukean rebel “kept sending messages to the ‘lords’ (en) of the Upper Lands and the governors of Subartu, telling lies” but to no avail.

142. McMahon, Tunca and Bagdo 2001: 205. 143. On the revolt see Tinney 1995; Wilcke 1997; Sommerfeld 2000; Potts 2001; and see c­ hapter 9. 144. Foster 2016: 326–​328. The first part is edited in Frayne 1993: 103–​108, the second by Wilcke 1997, which, together with subsequent studies, is the basis for the comments made here; see also Sommerfeld 2000; Sallaberger 2007: 426–​427.

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Amargirid then crossed the Tigris at some point quite far north, continued onward to cross the Euphrates, and ended up at the Jebel Bišri, a highland southwest of the generous river bend of the Middle Euphrates region that was home to Amorite tribal groups.145 Some of these had previously assisted the Kiš-​led insurgents, and he may have been seeking their assistance as well. The king of Akkad caught up with Amargirid’s army there and claimed a decisive victory, taking the rebel leader prisoner together with thirty-​one of his officers and more than six thousand soldiers and killing over nine thousand combatants.146 The long journey of Amargirid and his sizable forces is difficult to reconstruct because of the uncertainty about where he crossed the Tigris. The places mentioned in the inscription cannot be localized at present; the crucial point on the map is Ašimanum, conceivably the same as later Šimanum, which Walther Sallaberger cautiously located just south of Pir Hüseyin, although it is also possible to place it somewhat farther south on the river, northeast of Nagar.147 In either case, Amargirid’s army would have had to march without opposition through the densely populated Khabur region or around it and then across the Euphrates and move south to the Jebel Bišri, where the battle took place. This means that although Naram-​Sin claimed that local governors and allies refused Amargirid’s call to revolt, they did not oppose him or had fled to join the king of Akkad. Naram-​Sin’s account, told in the first person, clearly masks and hides as much as it reveals, but it does provide insight into the political situation in the northern periphery of his kingdom. Naram-​Sin’s accounting of dead and captured Uruk coalition enemies may have suffered at the hands of later copyists and/​or have originally been inflated, and it is not known if Amorite tribesmen joined those forces at the site of the battle, but the movement of a hastily assembled multitude of between ten thousand and possibly more than fifteen thousand people over such

145. On Jebel Bišri see Pappi 2006. 146. Sallaberger 2007: 426. 147. Sallaberger 2007: 436–​437, 442.

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large distances must have presented considerable logistical challenges and wreaked havoc on local economies, depleting stores, confiscating livestock, and depending on the time of year, seriously disrupting agricultural production and pastoral activities. Given the sparse information, any explanation of these events must be tentative; nevertheless, it is reasonable to assume that the reason the Akkadian monarch marched north is that this was where his loyal military forces were located. The local elites of the Babylonian center of his kingdom had never accepted Akkadian hegemony, but apparently the northern periphery, ruled in a very different manner, could be counted on for manpower and material. Naram-​Sin went north because that is where his army and his allies were. Indeed, it is possible that the king had shifted the central military focus there, building up staging centers for his concentrated expeditions farther north, west, and northwest. Under Naram-​Sin, the world outside of the Mesopotamian core of the kingdom encompassed a complex network of self-​sustaining, agro-​ military garrison cities, towns, and fortresses peopled with administrators, soldier-​workers, and support labor, exemplified by Gasur, Awal, Nagar, and most likely Šehna as well.148 These enclaves of Akkadian colonists also included entrepreneurs and traders of various kinds, as in Susa. Most of the periphery was not occupied in contiguous territorial expanse; these spaces comprised a mixture of militarily dominant settlements combined with independent, often strongly allied cities and their agricultural surroundings, such as Urkeš or Mari, as well as other loosely associated habitations of various sizes. Politically, many if not most of the allied principalities may have been bound by formal treaties, and some by interdynastic marriages. This patchwork periphery of the kingdom stretched into frontier zones without tractable borders, reaching to the four corners of the known universe and beyond, as illuminated in the stele that commemorated Naram-​Sin’s slaughter of the Lullubians

148. The status of Mardaman (modern Bassetki) and Pir Hüseyin, where inscribed monuments of Naram-​Sin were found, cannot be determined since the Elamite treaty specified that an ally would erect his royal statues; see previously in this section.

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(­figure 10.5). The king, climbing up a steep mountain as enemy corpses fall around him, sets his gaze on the transcendent world of the gods above him but also the looming mountain peak, focused on the never-​ ending glory that awaits him in the unseen world beyond.

10.8.  Šar-​kali-​šarri and beyond Compared to the reign of his father, the tenure of Šar-​kali-​šarri (ca. 2197–​2173 bc) on the throne of Akkad is poorly documented, but the unraveling of the Sargonic polity is clearly evident. The Old Babylonian copyists apparently showed no interest in his monuments, an omission redressed by the work of attentive scribes in other periods.149 Some of his year names dealt with domestic matters, but several commemorated military activities.150 Strangely, they all echo earlier Sargonic events. In two of these the king is seen to be following in the footsteps of his father; in one he claimed victory over tribesmen at Jebel Bišri, the Syrian highland where Naram-​Sin had defeated Babylonian rebels, and in the other he “cut ‘cedar’ (for) the temple of Enlil.” The latter is somewhat enigmatic and could perhaps refer to an expedition to the east and not to the distant Amanus. Be that as it may, the Syrian war suggests that the Akkadian garrisons in the region were under military stress and that local alliances brokered by the king’s father may have been fraying. Two sixth-​century bc clay tablets purporting to be copies of Sargonic inscriptions seem to concern Šar-​kali-​šarri, but the content of both is undoubtedly sourced from inscriptions of Naram-​Sin:  both mention the great rebellion and the expedition to the sources of the Tigris and Euphrates, as well as felling trees in the Amanus mountains.151 As such these are undoubtedly pastiches of no historical value.

149. For the inscriptions see Frayne 1993: 186–​208. They were in the main copied during the time of the Third Dynasty of Ur and during the time of the Neo-​ Babylonian Empire in the sixth century BC, although the latter copies are somewhat suspect, as noted immediately below. 150. For Šar-​kali-​šarri’s year names see Sallaberger and Schrakamp 2015: 46–​47. 151. Frayne 1993: 191–​194.

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The east, which had been relatively quiet during the reign of Naram-​ Sin, once again became a matter of major concern. Distant Marhaši may have been kept at bay by diplomatic means with an alliance sealed by an interdynastic marriage.152 The evidence for this is somewhat sketchy, consisting of three administrative accounts from two cities, and it is only a supposition that they concern the same event. A Girsu text mentions an envoy from Marhaši together with a bodyguard, presumably traveling on a diplomatic matrimonial mission; Nippur tablets mention the wedding of a prince and a disbursal when the prince traveled to Marhaši. If these documents indeed bear witness to a diplomatic marriage, then it was an unusual one because one would expect the Akkadian princess to be traveling to marry into the Marhašian royal family and not the other way around. Possibly this role reversal is an indication of the subservient role that Akkad had to assume in those perilous times, when the east was once again threatening the flagging Sargonic kingdom. This state of affairs is reflected by a year name that celebrated a victory over Elam and an entity named Zahara, a toponym otherwise attested only once, also in association with Elam, in an inscription of Rimuš. But as Piotr Steinkeller observed, “Since this battle took place on Babylonian soil (at Akšak in the Diyala Region), this must have been a defensive operation. This event is a clear indication that, already then (the exact placement of the date-​formula within Shar-​kali-​sharri’s reign unfortunately cannot be determined), both Khuzestan and the Iranian highlands had been free of Akkadian political domination.”153 The periphery did not hold. Information on governmental Sargonic contacts with the outside world terminate with the end of Šar-​kali-​šarri’s reign; various forms of private and local official interaction by traders and adventurers surely did not cease, but these remain for the most part undocumented. The only subsequent trace of Akkadian connections in the periphery

152. The tablets are late Sargonic from an archive that spanned the reigns of Naram-​ Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri, so the historical context is ambiguous; on these texts and their interpretation see, for example, Westenholz 1987: 97 and Steinkeller 2014: 692, but note the issues raised by Westbrook 1994: 44. 153. Steinkeller 2018: 190.

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comes from the Anatolian site of Titriş Höyük, close to Samsat, where a stone weight of one mana inscribed with the name of an official of king Šudurul of Akkad, who ruled perhaps a generation (ca. 2148–​2134 bc) after Šar-​kali-​šarri, was reportedly found.154 But the portable nature of the object and the uncertainty concerning its provenance make it an unreliable witness for the reconstruction of history.

10.9. Final thoughts The historical reconstructions offered in this essay are necessarily incomplete and artificial. Leaving that aside, the disjointed and piecemeal surviving records reveal few strategic patterns, and while for practical reasons external martial events have been listed by individual reign, the disjuncture or continuity of tactical designs is often difficult to discern, seemingly documenting a bewildering scattering of attempts at extending territorial control mixed with one-​time invasions intended to pacify unruly frontier regions or defend them against external threats from powerful rivals such as Marhaši and single-​minded raids in search of booty and charismatic glory. Discoveries in Ebla and Mari as well as other sites have brought to light the high volume of imported luxury goods and materials present among elites in Syria and Upper Mesopotamia before the advent of Sargon, providing ample evidence of the multifaceted trade and gift exchange networks that crisscrossed the Middle Asian Interaction Sphere (to use Possehl’s term; cf. section 10.3), including large amounts of lapis lazuli, carnelian, and other stones from Afghanistan and India; chlorite vessels from Iran; shell from the Indian Ocean; gold, silver, tin, and copper from the east and northwest; and timber from the Lebanon, the Amanus, and the Iranian highlands. The hunger for such goods only increased under the regime of the Sargonic kings, whose martial exploits may have been partly aimed at repairing broken strands in the networks and exerting control over some of the source and relay elements of the

154. Matney 2000:  20. On the final year of the kingdom see most recently Kraus 2018.

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Middle Asian Interaction Sphere. And yet many of their adventures, while attaining short-​term success, may have created serious long-​term havoc in fragile systems of extraction and transport that had linked the Persian Gulf region and Mesopotamia with the east for generations, as well as those systems that had survived the breakdown of dominant polities in Upper Mesopotamia in the decades preceding the advent of Sargon. Nevertheless, commercial, diplomatic, and personal contacts with outsiders flourished throughout the Sargonic period, as evidenced by state, organizational, and private documents as well as archaeological discoveries. There are references to foreigners from Elam, Lullubum, Makkan, and even far-​away Meluhha, but such information is sporadic and not very informative, usually limited to expenditures of rations or provisions. Best documented are the broad relations of colonists in Susa with major Mesopotamian cities and with people from places in the Gulf, Iran, and the Indus valley, as previously mentioned. Mesopotamians had abundant grain and textiles to offer, and while documentary evidence for exports is scarce, shipments of grain to Lullubum and a few other foreign places are attested. For the most part, however, such contacts were not accounted for in writing, as were relations with the northern periphery. One of the rare exceptions to this is a document from a small archive of a Sippar entrepreneur named Quradum that includes the only unequivocal mention of a city in that zone, namely Mari, one of the several places in which he kept silver capital for use in his commercial interests.155 Thus, the expected disruptions in the trade networks to the east and south seem to have had little immediate impact, although the effects may have been felt more fully in the long term. The area dominated by the Sargonic regime was constantly shifting, subject to various levels of control and largely discontinuous in

155. Sollberger 1972: 32, no. 72 l. 20.The reference from Ešnunna in Gelb 1962: 141, no.  272 l.  2, where it is listed as a source of timber together with two other nearby settlements, should likely be amended to -​ma-​ri2ki, a local place also mentioned in Rasheed 1981: no. 5 ii 9. On the Quradum private archive from Sippar from the time of Naram-​Sin and Šar-​kali-​šarri see Schrakamp 2015: 250 (with earlier literature).

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the periphery, and therefore cannot be easily represented by a modern map. It has been argued that the organizational and territorial fabric of premodern states or empires was not structured by exclusive territorial sovereignty, that linearly bounded territorial authority only developed in early modern Europe, partly due to the advances in cartography that changed the way people thought about political space.156 However, the polity founded by Sargon was initially located in an area that was grosso modo geographically bounded: the city states of southern and northern Babylonia were located in an alluvial valley bordered by the Persian Gulf in the south, desert in the west, and the Iranian highlands in the east, with open lanes up the Euphrates and into valleys in Iran that opened up conquerable space and routes up and down the mountain areas that led to the south as well as to the north and northwest. Thus, some of the areas ruled by Akkad were more or less bounded, while others were geographically unrestricted, but in aggregate, the area over which the Sargonic rulers claimed hegemony morphed into frontier regions without strict borderlines. The incessant wars discussed in this chapter must have had more dire effects. The large armies traversing long distances across much of Western Asia must have put tremendous pressure on human, material, and ecological resources throughout the region. The need to populate the peripheral centers with people from the area around Akkad, culminating during the reign of Naram-​Sin, must have equally stressed the cohesion of kin and elite groups in the center. This suggests that like many large states and empires, the Akkad polity overextended its reach, and its military, commercial, and diplomatic successes would reveal unintended consequences, leading to the unraveling of the kingdom. Finally, to return to a matter that was briefly touched on in section 10.1, is it possible to characterize the Sargonic state as an empire? Once again, this may depend on which of the myriad definitions one prefers. But if the answer is positive, one should beware of evolutionary teleological interpretations, seeking a linear development between earlier Uruk political ideas and the kingdom of Akkad. Sargon, as has happened so 156. Branch 2011.

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many times in human history, opportunistically exploited a confluence of contemporary ideas from the northwest and the south while finding himself in a unique military and geopolitical situation that he ingeniously exploited to become the last man standing and the founder of a new dynasty imbued with new political ideas. These ideas were only fully realized during the reign of his grandson Naram-​Sin, and there are signs in the wording of his inscriptions that this monarch had a complex relationship with his dynastic origins, eager to distinguish himself by redoing more perfectly all that had been done before and to reach out much further in the fulfillment of cosmocratic dreams. Under his regime, Akkad became an empire,157 if one takes seriously the words of W. C. Runciman, who noted that [empires] are neither big societies on the one hand nor leagues of independent societies headed by a dominant partner on the other:  they involve the exercise of domination by the rulers of a central society over the populations of peripheral societies without either absorbing them to the point that they become fellow-​members of the central society or disengaging from them to the point that they become confederates rather than subjects. But empires are interesting also on account of their impermanence: they are easier to acquire than to retain. The prospect of disengagement may look for a time as remote as the prospect of absorption. But no empire lasts forever, or anything like it.158 Naram-​Sin’s monarchy differed from anything that had come before and from anything that would come after, for all short-​lived empires are short-​lived in their own way.

157. For a succinct description of the imperial characteristics of the Akkad polity see Barjamovic 2013: 129–​131. 158. Runciman 2011: 99.

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R ef er en c es Abid, B.J. and al-​Dahab, A.E. 2015. Cuneiform texts unpublished in the Iraqi Museum, Akkadian series, part I. Baghdad: State Board of Antiquities and Heritage. Ahmed, K.M. 2012. The beginnings of ancient Kurdistan (c. 2500–​1500 bc): a historical and cultural synthesis. PhD thesis, Leiden University. Alkhafaji, N. 2019. A double date formula of the Akkadian King Maništusu. JCS 71: 3–​9. Altaweel, M., Marsh, A., Mühl, S., Nieuwenhuyse, O., Radner, K., Rasheed, K. and Saber, S.A. 2012. New investigations in the environment, history and archaeology of the Iraqi Hilly Flanks:  Shahrizor Survey Project, 2009–​ 2011. Iraq 74: 1–​35. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2014. Aesthetics of the natural environment in the arts of the ancient Near East: the Elamite rock-​cut sanctuary of Kurangun. In Brown, B.A. and Feldman, M.H. (eds.), Critical approaches to ancient Near Eastern art. Berlin: De Gruyter, 741–​771. Archi, A. 1987. More on Ebla and Kish. In Gordon, C.H., Rendsburg, G.A. and Winter, N.H. (eds.), E ​ blaitica: essays on the Ebla archives and Eblaite language.​Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 125–​140. Archi, A. 2015. Ebla and its archives. Berlin: De Gruyter. Archi, A. and Biga, M.G. 2003. A victory over Mari and the fall of Ebla. JCS 55: 1–​44. Barjamovic, G. 2013. Mesopotamian empires. In Bang, P.F. and Scheidel, W. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of the state in the ancient Near East and Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 120–​160. Barjamovic, G. 2018. Interlocking commercial networks and the infrastructure of trade in Western Asia during the Bronze Age. In Kristiansen, K., Lindkvist, T. and Myrdal, J. (eds.), Trade and civilisation:  economic networks and cultural ties, from prehistory to the early modern era. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 113–​142. Biga, M.G. 2003. Las guerras de Ebla. In Baquer, M.A. et al. (eds.), La guerra en Oriente Próximo y Egipto: evidencias, historia y tendencias en la investigación. Madrid:  Servicio de Publicaciones, Universidad Autónoma de Madrid,  79–​87. Biga, M.G. 2008. Au-​delà des frontières: guerre et diplomatie à Ébla. Orientalia 77: 289–​334.

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Biga, M.G. 2010. War and peace in the kingdom of Ebla (24th century bc) in the first years of vizier Ibbi-​zikir under the reign of the last king Išar-​ Damu. In Biga, M.G. and Liverani, M. (eds.), Ana turri gimilli:  studi dedicati al Padre Werner R.  Mayer, S.J. Rome:  Università di Roma “La Sapienza”,  39–​57. Biga, M.G. 2014. The marriage of an Eblaite princess with the king of Dulu. In Gaspa, S. et  al. (eds.), From source to history:  studies on ancient Near Eastern worlds and beyond dedicated to Giovanni Battista Lanfranchi. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag,  73–​79. Bonechi, M. 1990. Aleppo in età arcaica: a proposito di un’opera recente. Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 7: 15–​37. Bonechi, M. 2016. Thorny geopolitical problems in the Palace G archives: the Ebla southern horizon, part one, the Middle Orontes basin. Syria Supplément 4: 29–​87. Branch, J. 2011. Mapping the sovereign state: technology, authority, and systemic change. International Organization 65: 1–​36. Braun-​Holzinger, E.A. 1991. Mesopotamische Weihgaben der frühdynastischen bis altbabylonischen Zeit. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. Brisch, N. 2010. Rebellions and peripheries in Sumerian royal literature. In Richardson, S. (ed.), Rebellions and peripheries in the cuneiform world. New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 29–​45. Buccellati, G. 1993. Through a tablet darkly: a reconstruction of Old Akkadian monuments described in Old Babylonian copies. In Cohen, M.E., Snell, D.C. and Weisberg, D.B. (eds.), The tablet and the scroll:  Near Eastern studies in honor of William W. Hallo. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 58–​71. Buccellati, G. 2003. A LÚ E school tablet from the service quarter of the royal palace AP at Urkesh. JCS 55: 45–​48. Buccellati, G. and Kelly-​Buccellati, M. 2000. The royal palace of Urkesh: report on the 12th season at Tell Mozan/​Urkesh; excavations in area AA, June-​ October 1999. MDOG 132: 133–​183. Buccellati, G. and Kelly-​Buccellati, M. 2002. Tar’am-​Agade, daughter of Naram-​Sin, at Urkesh. In al-​Gailani-​Werr, L. et  al. (eds.), Of pots and plans: papers on the archaeology and history of Mesopotamia and Syria presented to David Oates. London: Nabu Publications, 11–​31. Butterlin, P. 2007. Mari, les šakkanakkû et la crise de la fin du troisième millénaire. In Kuzucuoğlu, C. and Marro, C. (eds.), Sociétés humaines et

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Figures are indicated by f following the page number For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–​53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages.    Abalgamaš,  715–​16 420–​21, 445, 468, 476, 495–​96, Abarsal, 543, 557, 558 506–​7,  508 Abu Ballas Trail, 403–​4, 406–​7, Adab, 190–​91, 538–​39, 540, 550–​56, 415–​16,  430 578–​79, 585, 614, 619, 622, Abu Ghurab, 126–​27, 348–​49 624–​27, 632–​33, 649, 657–​58, Abu Rawash, 126–​27, 344, 468, 663, 704–​6, 711 469, 500 Adaima, 124–​25, 270 Abu Rodeis, 409 Adamma, 586 Abu Simbel, 405 Adheim River, 612–​14 Abu Zenima, 409 Adriatic Sea, 13 Abusir, 289–​90, 328, 346–​56, 358, Aegean Sea, 13 359, 412, 432–​33, 436–​37, 442, Agagališ, 560 470–​71,  500 Aha, 249, 250, 260, 261, 263, 274–​78, Abydos, 126–​27, 129–​35, 140, 142–​ 280–​81,  325 44, 195–​96, 216–​17, 249–​50, A.HA, 632–​33,  657–​58 260–​65, 268–​79, 282–​88, Ahuti,  550–​51 290–​92, 294–​96, 299–​301, Ain Ghazal, 45–​46, 52, 55–​56, 66 303–​5, 333, 337, 340–​41, 358–​ Akanthou,  43–​44 59, 364–​67, 370–​71, 374–​75, Akhmim, 366, 370–​71, 622, 625

76

766

Index

Akkad, 2, 7, 17–​18, 534, 546, 549, 612–​41, 644–​50, 652–​53, 657–​ 59, 661, 663–​71, 686, 687–​92, 694–​98, 701–​6, 708–​10, 712–​13, 716–​24, 726–​28, 733, 736–​43, 745–​50 Akkar Plain, 441–​42 Akšak, 550, 554–​56, 636, 746–​47 Aleppo, 542–​43, 586, 700–​1 Al-​šarraki, 625–​26,  657–​58 Amanus Mountains, 9–​10, 699–​700, 713, 732–​33, 745, 747–​48 Amarah, 719 Amargirid, 632–​33,  742–​44 Amenhotep II, 424 Amuq Plain, 31–​32 An, 168–​69,  620–​21 Anankhta,  433–​34 Anedjib, 290–​91, 327 Aniba,  423–​24 Ankhnespepy I, 325–​26, 364, 366 II, 363f, 364, 366 III, 363f, 364, 374 IV, 374 Ankhti, 368 Ankhtifi, 375 Anšan, 544–​46, 586, 692, 698–​99, 717, 718, 727–​28 Anti-​Lebanon Mountains,  34–​36 Anubis, 279, 491–​92 Apiak,  632–​33 Arabian Sea, 3–​4, 13 Arahtum Channel, 12 Aratta, 221 Arawa, 554–​55,  707–​8 Arbara River, 7–​8

Ardabil,  18–​19 Arina,  548–​49 Armanum, 727–​28, 732 Armi, 700–​1, 732 Arrukum, 556–​57,  580–​81 Arslantepe, 175–​76,  183–​85 Arulu,  581–​82 Ašgi, 585 Ash,  288–​89 Ashkelon,  442–​43 Aşikli Höyük, 45–​46, 57 Ašimanum, 743 Ašnak,  742–​43 Assur, 557, 663, 714–​15, 720–​22,  723 Assyria, 4–​5, 689–​91, 697–​98, 720–​21,  731 Aswan, 9, 366, 368, 370–​71, 426–​27,  433–​34 Asyut,  370–​71 Atlit Yam, 31–​32, 64–​65 Atum, 469 Awal, 728–​29,  744–​45 Awan, 555, 586, 715–​16 Ayakurgal, 555 Ayn Asil, 406, 430, 486, 498–​99. See also Balat Ayn el-​Gezareen, 405–​6, 486 Ayn Sukhna, 368, 416–​20, 432–​34,  443 Azuhinnum,  729–​31 Azuzu,  721–​22    Ba’al-​SI.SI,  721–​22 Ba’ja, 49 Bab el-​Mandab, 398–​99, 430, 431–​32 Babaef, 379

76

Index Babylon, 12, 549, 724–​25 Babylonia, 4–​5, 532–​34, 538–​39, 548–​50, 567–​68, 577, 612–​14, 687–​91, 693–​94, 699–​709, 710–​11, 714–​15, 719–​20, 723, 725–​26, 736–​38,  742–​43 Bactria,  715–​16 Badakhstan, 440 Badari, 113–​15, 132 Baghdad, 10–​11, 62, 72, 183–​85, 532, 549 Bahariya Oasis, 403–​4 Bahrain, 2–​3, 185 Bahunatum, 560 Baka, 345 Balaat Gebal, 350–​51 Balat, 406, 486, 731. See also Ayn Asil Balikh River, 543, 710–​11, 713 Balochistan, 698–​99, 715–​16,  726–​27 Barama, 586 Baranamtara,  565–​66 Baset. See Bubastis Bassetki, 632–​33, 723–​24,  729–​31 Basta, 49 Bastet, 471 Bat, 418–​19,  432–​33 Bawa, 564–​65, 567, 568–​69 Behekez, 428 Behenu, 363f, 364 Beidha,  46–​47 Beli-​qarrad, 641,  650–​51 Bet Khallaf, 337–​38, 339, 509–​10 Bigeh Island, 426–​27 Bin-​kali-​šarri,  635–​36 Bingöl,  57–​58

767

Bir as-​Safadi,  71–​72 Bir Kiseiba, 102, 103 Birkleyn,  732–​36 Bonçuklu, 47–​48,  67–​68 Bubastis, 129–​30, 508 Buhen, 423, 424, 495–​96 Butana,  425–​26 Buto, 125, 129–​30, 134–​35, 259, 516. See also Tell el-​Fara’in Byblos, 10–​11, 303–​4, 350–​51, 434–​35, 438–​41, 495–​96    Canhasan, 62 Cappadocia, 43–​44,  57–​58 Carchemish, 579–​80, 699–​701 Carmel, Mount, 446–​47 Caspian Sea, 3–​4, 698 Çatalhöyük, 31–​32, 44–​46, 59, 60–​61, 62, 64 Caucasus,  3–​4 Çayönü, 37–​38, 50–​51, 57 Chogha Mami, 76–​77 Chogha Mish, 175–​76, 183–​85, 189 Çiftlik,  57–​58 Coptos, 356–​57, 366, 506–​7 Cutha, 632–​33,  653–​54 Cyprus, 2–​3, 43–​44,  64–​65 Dada, 639–​41, 654 Dagan, 586, 709–​11, 713, 732 Dahshur, 331–​32, 334–​35, 341–​42, 348, 398, 417, 433–​34, 469, 488, 500, 501 Dakhla Oasis, 102–4, 398, 403–​4, 406–​7, 486, 495–​96, 498–​99,  510–​13 Damascus,  31–​32

768

768

Index

Damishliyya,  62–​63 Dara, 370 Darašum, 560 Darband-​i Khan,  728–​29 Darfur,  425–​26 Dasht-​e Kavir,  3–​4 Dasht-​e Lut,  3–​4 Dead Sea, 34, 35–​36, 52, 56–​57, 64–​65, 73–​74,  78–​79 Debeheni,  489–​90 Deh Luran, 76–​77, 182–​85, 707–​8 Deir Abu Hinnis, 481 Deir el-​Bahri, 431 Deir el-​Bersha, 481 Deir el-​Gebrawi, 366, 370 Demedj, 356 Demirköy,  37–​38 Demiu,  406–​7 Den, 284, 285–​87, 288–​90, 291,  410–​11 Dendara, 366, 495–​96 Der, 570, 707–​8, 728–​29 Deshasha, 366, 443–​45 Deshret, 7 Dhra’, 35–​36, 38, 64–​65 DI-​Utu,  625 Dilmun, 185, 570, 625–​26, 709–​10,  727–​28 Diyala River, 5, 9–​10, 188, 532–​34, 549–​50, 612–​14, 635, 636, 650–​51, 707–​8, 728–​29,  746–​47 Diyarbakir,  732–​33 Dja’de al-​Mughara, 51 Djara, 102, 104 Djau, 364 Djebaut. See Buto

Djedankhneferkara, 374 Djedefra. See Radjedef Djedkara Isesi, 335, 350, 358–​59, 380, 405, 410–​12, 417–​19, 424, 429–​30, 433–​34,  438–​39 Djer, 277–​78, 435 Djet,  281–​85 Djoser (Netjerikhet), 250, 304–​5, 322, 324, 327–​30, 332, 334, 336–​38, 339, 348, 359, 367, 381–​82, 410,  468–​69 Domuztepe, 63–​64,  66–​67 Duaenra, 379 Dudu,  614–​15 Dulu, 558 Dur-​Agade, 665–​66, 718,  726–​27 Dur-​Maništusu,  718    E’ana (Eanna), 164, 165–​69, 171–​75, 196–​98, 204–​5, 207–​8, 219, 220 E’igi’il,  657–​58 Eanatum, 552–​53, 554–​55, 587 Eastern Delta, 422–​23 Eastern Desert, 9, 101–​4, 111–​14, 121–​22, 255, 297, 368, 398, 407–​ 9, 415, 416, 443–​44, 481–​82 Ebabbar,  642–​44 Ebla, 194, 220–​21, 440–​41, 534–​38, 542–​44, 546–​50, 556–​59, 560, 570–​71, 577, 579–​83, 586–​88, 593–​95, 614, 699–​702, 709–​11, 713, 727–​28, 732–​34,  747–​48 Edfu, 340–​41, 362, 364, 366, 368–​69, 370–​71, 380,  495–​96 Edinnu,  190–​91 Ein Gedi, 73–​74, 76 Ekallatum,  720–​21

769

Index Ekur, 617–​18, 619–​21, 650–​53, 667–​68,  694–​95 Elam, 5, 197, 205, 546–​47, 551–​52, 554–​55, 570, 586, 625–​26, 639–​ 40, 668, 707–​9, 713–​16, 719, 722, 725–​28, 746–​47, 748 Elephantine, 125–​26, 253–​54, 259, 300, 328, 337–​38, 340–​41, 366, 368, 420–​21, 426–​28, 434–​35, 445, 479–​80, 484–​86, 495–​98, 504–​7, 509–​13 Elkab, 113–​14, 293–​96, 509–​10 Elšum, 737 Emar, 558 En Besor, 253 Enentarzi,  564–​65 Enheduanna,  623–​24 EninMAR.KI,  619–​20 Enki, 196, 585 Enlil, 203, 218, 548–​49, 555–​56, 585, 617–​21, 627, 632–​33, 650–​53, 663, 667–​68, 686–​89, 693, 694–​95, 704–​6, 709–​11, 714–​ 15, 717, 719–​20, 745 Enmenana, 552–​53, 579, 623–​24 Enmerkar, 163–​64,  221–​22 Ennanum, 622 Enšakušanna, 532–​34, 552–​53, 555–​ 56, 559, 614, 701–​2, 704–​7 Erech. See Uruk Erekagina, 552–​54, 556, 563–​65,  579 Ereš, 535, 590–​91, 625–​26 Ergani,  734–​36 Eridu, 164–​65, 183–​85, 190–​91, 563, 585,  723–​24 Ešbarkin, 594

769

Ešnunna, 532, 564, 587, 617–​18, 634, 636, 639–​40, 728 Etib-​Mer, 635–​36, 639–​41, 646–​47, 648,  650–​51 Euphrates River, 4–​5, 7, 9–​11, 12, 30–​32, 36, 52–​54, 71, 72, 181, 183–​85, 188, 542, 552, 558, 698, 704–​6, 707, 732–​33, 736–​37, 742–​43, 745,  748–​49 Eynan, 30–​31,  40–​41    Fara, 190–​91, 535. See also Šuruppag Farafra Oasis, 403–​4 Fars, 11–​12, 555, 698–​99, 717, 718 Fayum, 9, 104, 107–​14, 121–​22, 340–​41, 370–​71, 398, 413, 480 Fort Akkad. See Dur-​Agade Fort Maništusu. See Dur-​Maništusu Galilee,  51–​52 Gasur, 557, 634, 657–​58, 722, 728–​29, 739–​40, 744–​45. See also Nuzi Gaza, 253, 442–​43 Gazelle Nose, 446–​47 Gebel el-​Asr, 405 Gebel el-​Arak (Nag Hamadi), 138–​39,  216–​17 Gebel Galala el-​Qibleya, 413 Gebel Sheikh Suleiman, 281 Gebel Uweinat, 403–​4 Gebel Zeit, 407–​8 Gebelein, 137–​38,  495–​96 Gerza, 126–​27,  134–​35 Geša, 540, 553–​54 Gilan,  18–​19

70

770

Index

Gilat, 71, 73–​74, 76 Gilf el-​Kebir Plateau, 403–​4 Gilgal, 42 Gilgamesh, 163–​64, 210, 214–​16, 221, 574–​75,  711–​12 Giritab,  632–​33 Girsu, 539–​40, 551–​55, 564–​67, 569, 570, 575, 577–​78, 580, 582, 628–​29, 637, 649, 650–​ 51, 659–​61, 704–​6, 714–​15, 719, 728–​29, 733, 746. See also Telloh Giza, 126–​27, 282–​83, 299, 330–​33, 335, 340, 343, 345–​48, 352, 398, 405, 408–​9, 417, 440, 444–​45, 468–​70, 473, 487, 499–​501 Göbekli Tepe, 38–​40 Godin Tepe, 183–​85, 188–​89 Golan,  71–​72 Gollü Dağ, 43–​44 Gu’abba,  539–​40 Gu’edena, 552–​55 Gubin,  715–​16 Gudea,  208–​9 Gurob,  480–​81    Habuba Kabira, 175–​76, 183–​87, 196–​97 Haçilar, 62 Haçinebi Tepe, 175–​76, 183–​85 Hadabal, 580–​81, 586 Hadda, 586 Hagoshrim, 79 Hakemi Use, 66 Halab. See Aleppo

Halabatu, 586 Halawa, 542 Halil Rud, 544–​46, 698–​99 Hallan Çemi, 37–​3 8, 40–​4 3 Hama, 542–​43,  579–​80 Hamadi,  183–​85 Hamadu, 542–43, 579–​80 Hamazi, 557 Harkhuf, 425–​26, 428–​30, 431–​32,  434–​35 Harran, 557, 558 Hassek Höyük, 171–​72, 175–​76 Hathor, 342, 345–​46, 348–​49, 408–​9, 470, 473, 493 Hatnub, 368, 407–​8, 476 Hatra, 62 Hatshepsut, 431–​33 Hawdu,  340–​41 Hazu, 428 Heliopolis, 323–​24, 337–​38, 344, 345, 469 Helwan, 110–​12, 126–​27, 130–​31, 134–​35, 261–​62, 270, 277–​78, 289–​90,  299 Hemaka, 287–​90 Hemuset,  267–​68 Heqaib (Pepynakht), 368, 419–​20, 427, 433–​35, 443, 447, 511–​13 Heraclitus,  381–​82 Herakleopolis,  460–​63 Herimeru, 492 Hetep, 375 Hetepheres I, 340, 438, 440 II, 344 Hetepsekhemwy, 294–​98

71

Index Hexapolis,  550–​52 Hierakonpolis (Kom el-​Ahmar), 113–​14, 118, 124–​27, 130–​31, 132–​34, 137–​38, 140, 142–​44, 259, 270–​72, 301–​5, 340–​41, 358–​59, 366, 370–​71, 377, 378, 435, 468, 495–​96, 503, 505–​8 Hor-​Aha,  144 Horus, 131, 134–​35, 249–​50, 255–​56, 262–​63, 270–​71, 285, 294–​96, 299–​300, 301, 303–​4, 342, 345, 348, 349, 357, 368, 377–​78, 428–​29, 468, 469, 490 Hujayrat al-​Ghuzlan, 122 Humban, 586 Huni (Hor Qahedjet), 338–​39 Hursagkalama, 549. See also Kiš Iarmurti,  709–​10 Ibal, 559, 560 Ibbizikir, 556–​57, 559, 560, 580–​81 Iblulil, 558 Ibrium, 556–​59, 580–​81 Ida, 442–​47 Idada, 713 Idi,  374–​75 Idi-​ilum,  663 Ifi, 351 Igrišhalab, 556–​58, 579–​80 Ila,  564–​65 Ilaba, 629–​31, 639–​40,  642–​43 Ilišmani,  726–​27 Ilšu-​qarrad, 650–​52 Ilšu-​rabi, 622–​23,  719 Ilum-​dan, 641, 650–​51, 659–​61, 663 Imhotep, 337, 338

771

Imi-​Ilum,  662 Inana (Inanna), 168–​69, 176–​77, 193, 196, 208–​9, 210–​12, 216–​17, 218, 548–​49, 554–​55, 562, 564–​65, 584–​85, 623–​24, 655, 686, 687 Inbu-​hedj, 126–​27, 144, 319–​20, 364, 495–​96,  501 Ineb-​Khufu,  416 Inenek Inti, 364 Inšušinak, 586 Intef III, 511–​13 Inti, 437, 443–​45 Iny, 420–​21, 434, 438–​42 Inyotef, 428 Ionian Sea, 13 Iphur-​Kiš,  632–​33 Iput I,  361–​63 II, 364 Iraq ad-​Dubb, 34–​36, 40 Iri’aza, 639 Irkabdamu, 556–​58 Irtjet, 366, 425–​29 Iry, 428 Iry-​Hor, 131, 142–​44, 266–​67, 269–​70,  272–​73 Išar-​beli,  649–​50 Išardamu, 556–​59 Ishan al-​Bahriyat. See Isin Išhara, 586 Isi,  368–​69 Isin, 540, 551–​52, 632–​33, 650–​51,  704–​6 Iškun-​Dagan, 641, 649–​50,  659–​61 Iškur, 585

72

772

Index

Ištar, 586, 587, 620–​21, 623–​24, 662, 687, 694–​95, 721–​22,  732–​33 Ištar-​Annunitum,  721–​22 Išu-​ilum,  662    Jaffa, 442–​43,  446–​47 Jebel Abd el-​Aziz, 731–​32, 736–​37 Jebel Aruda, 175–​76, 183–​85, 186–​87,  196–​97 Jebel Bišri, 742–​43, 745 Jebel Hamrin, 183–​85, 194–​95, 707,  728–​29 Jebel Maqlub, 188–​89 Jebel Queisa 24, 35–​36 Jebel Sinjar, 36–​37, 729–​31, 736–​37 Jemdet Nasr, 164–​67, 174–​75, 181, 183–​85, 190–​91, 193, 197–​98, 205, 210, 220 Jerf al-​Ahmar, 36, 38, 42 Jericho, 38, 52 Jiroft, 193, 544–​46, 588–​90 Ka (Sekhen), 142–​44, 270, 272–​73, 406–​7, 439, 490 Kabsu, 663 Kafr Hassan Dawood, 270 Kagemni, 361–​62, 380 Kai, 380 Kaiaper, 437, 443–​44, 474 Kaiemankh, 335 Kakanišum, 733 Kakara Ibi, 374, 375 Kaku, 627 Kalar,  728–​29 Kaninisut I, 330f Karkara, 540, 551–​52, 585 Karnak,  356–​57

Karun River, 188, 715–​16 Kashkashok, 75 Kawab, 344 Kazallu, 625–​28, 632–​33 Kemet, 7 Kerma, 425–​26, 429–​30, 441,  495–​96 Kerman, 190–​91, 698–​99,  715–​16 Keš, 190–​91, 548–​51 Kešdut,  701–​2 Kfar HaHoresh, 51–​52, 67–​68 Khaba,  338–​39 Khabur River, 5, 15–​16, 18–​19, 188, 543, 547–​48, 559, 586, 699–​702, 731, 733–​34, 736–​39, 742, 743 Khafajah, 183–​85, 532, 635. See also Tutub Khafra, 330–​31, 343, 345, 398, 405, 408–​9, 417, 423, 438, 499–​500 Khamaat, 351, 357 Khamerernebty, 354 Kharabeh Shattani, 62–​63 Kharga Oasis, 403–​4 Kharkhe River, 188 Khartoum,  7–​8 Khasekhemwy (Khasekhem), 254–​55, 301–​5,  337 Khensedjer, 445 Khentika,  510–​11 Khentika Ikhekhi, 380 Khentimentiu, 258f, 358–​59,  374–​75 Khentkaus I, 346–​48, 499–​501 II, 352 Khirbet Garsour, 64–​65 Khmer, 738

73

Index Khnum, 426–​27, 471 Khufu, 322, 327, 330–​32, 340, 342–​45, 346, 398, 404–​5, 410–​11, 416, 417, 419–​22, 438, 440–​41, 469–​70, 477, 487, 499–​500 Khufukhaf, 345 Khuy, 364, 367, 370, 374–​75, 380,  434–​35 Khuyt,  361–​63 Khuzestan, 183–​85, 555, 708–​9, 716, 723, 726–​27,  746–​47 KI.AN. See Kidiĝira Ki’an, 540 Kidiĝira, 627 Kinu-​mupi,  654 Kiš, 214–​16, 538–​39, 546–​47, 549–​ 59, 562–​64, 577, 587, 593–​94, 614, 620–​21, 625–​26, 629, 632–​ 35, 651–​52, 653–​55, 686–​89, 693–​94, 700–​4, 723,  742–​43 Kiškattum,  653–​54 Kom el-​Ahmar. See Hierakonpolis Kom el-​Hisn,  495–​96 Kom el-​Khilgan,  132–​33 Kom K, 109–​10 Kom Ombo, 495–​96 Kom W, 109–​10 Konar Sandal, 190–​91, 193, 538, 544–​46,  588–​90 Konya Plain, 59 Kor el-​Aquiba,  422–​23 Körtik Tepe, 37–​38, 42–​43 Kosak Shamali, 71 Ku’ara,  190–​91 Kubban,  423–​24 Kulaba, 168–​69, 171, 175, 207–​8,  550–​51

773

Kura, 558–​59, 586 Kurda, 731 Kush, 424    Lagamal, 586 Lagaš, 538–​40, 548, 550–​56, 563–​65, 570, 579, 585–​86, 619–​20, 622–​23, 627–​33, 635, 637–​41, 645–51, 654–​ 61, 664–​65, 668, 693, 704–​6 Lahun,  500–​1 Larsa, 183–​85, 190–​91, 538–​39, 548–​49, 551–​52, 585, 625–​26,  704–​6 Lebanon, 2–​5, 10–​11, 13, 57–​58, 129–​ 30, 175, 440 Libya, 2–​3, 273 Libyan Desert, 398, 403–​4, 425–​26 Lice,  732–​33 Lippuš-​iyaum,  635–​36 Lower Sea, 619–​20, 704–​6, 714–​15, 717. See also Persian Gulf Lugal-​Suena,  737–​38 Lugalanne,  623–​24 Lugalbanda, 163–​64,  221–​22 Lugalkinešdudu, 218, 704–​6 Lugalkisalsi,  704–​6 Lugalmarada,  629–​31 Lugalra, 659–​61, 664–​66 Lugalušumgal, 637–​38,  657–​58 Lugalzagesi, 532–​34, 552–​56, 614, 619–​21, 693–​95, 704, 706–​7, 713–​14,  719–​20 Lullubum, 636, 728–​29, 748 Luristan, 16, 555    Maadi, 107–​8, 120–​22, 124–​27, 132–​33 Mad’an,  171–​72

74

774

Index

Maden,  734–​36 Magan. See Makkan Mahasna, el-​,  124–​25 Mahgar Dendara, 113–​14 Makkan, 3, 185, 625–​26, 629, 708–​10, 717–​18, 724–​28,  748 Manetho, 322–​24, 337, 361, 366, 372, 373 Maništusu, 614–​15, 617–​23, 629, 635–​36, 714, 716–​22, 726 Marada, 625–​26, 634, 651–​52 Mardaman, 723–​24,  729–​31 Mardu, 628 Marhaši, 544–​46, 687–​89, 692, 698–​99, 707–​9, 714–​17, 719, 722, 725–​28, 746, 747 Mari, 542–​43, 550, 553–​55, 557–​59, 564, 583, 587–​88, 593–​702, 707–​14, 719–​20, 732, 744–​45,  747–​48 Markha, el-​, 368, 416 Maškan-​ili-​Akkad, 641, 650–​51, 659–​66 Maškan-​puša,  639 Maya, 738 Medamud,  350–​51 Medenyt, 445 Mediterranean Sea, 3–​4, 7–​8, 9, 62–​63, 66, 181 Mehaa, 364 Meidum, 332, 378–​79, 398, 413, 417, 469 Meir, 327, 366, 367, 370 Mekhu, 427, 428 Meluhha, 625–​26, 709–​10, 715–​16, 727–​28,  748

Memphis, 126–​27, 261–​63, 269–​70, 277, 295, 297, 306, 324–​25, 331, 340–​41, 343, 364, 374–​75, 380, 417, 435–​36, 460–​63, 486, 494–​96,  501–​2 Mendes, 510 Menes, 140, 249, 262–​64, 324 Menkauhor, 350, 358, 410–​11 Menkaura, 330–​31, 343, 345–​46, 352, 408–​9, 438, 470, 499–​500 Mennefer. See Memphis Men-​nefer-​Pepy,  364 Mentuhotep (Nebhepetra) II, 372,  513–​14 Merenra I, 325–​26, 366, 368–​69, 408–​9, 426–​29, 438, 439, 504 II, see Nemtyemsaf Mereruka, 361–​62, 380 Meresankh, 340 Meretites II, 364 Meretnebty,  346–​48 Merimde Benisalame, 107–​14, 132 Merinetjerukhufu, 330f Merka, 294 Merneith, 271, 284–​85, 287 Mersa Gawasis, 416, 431–​32 Meryranefer Qar, 368–​69 Mesag, 645–48, 656–​59, 664–​65 Mesilim, 549–​53 Meskalamdug,  555–​56 Meskiagala, 556, 622, 624–​25, 711 Metjen, 337–​38,  342–​43 Min, 337 Minya,  370–​71 Mirabad, Lake, 16, 17

75

Index Mišime, 554–​55, 722. See also Pašime Moalla, 375 Mosul, 36–​38,  729–​31 Mylouthkia, 43–​44,  64–​65 Nabada, 534–​35, 542–​43, 547–​48, 557, 559, 579–​80, 581–​82, 584, 700,  738–​39 Nabi-​Ulmaš,  635–​36 Nabta Playa, 102, 103 Nachcharini,  34–​36 Naga ed-​Der, 481–​82, 496 Nagar, 534–​59, 579–​80, 583, 584, 593–​94, 617–​18, 699–​701, 713–​15, 722, 737–​45 Nagsu, 663 Nag Hamadi. See Gebel el-Arak Nahal Hemar, 52, 55–​57 Nahal Mishmar, 76 Nahal Oren, 35–​36 Nahal Qanah, 75–​76, 78–​79 Nahal Tillah, 274 Nahr el-​Kebir,  441–​42 Naḫšum-​šanat, 650–​52,  663 Nahur, 731 Namzium, 636 Nanna (Suen), 564, 577, 585, 623 Nannum, 663 Nanše,  643–​44 Napiriša, 586 Naqada, 117, 120–​21, 125–​27, 129–​33, 142–​44, 263, 276–​77, 280–​81,  468 Naram-​Sin, 560, 587, 614–​15, 617–​18, 619, 621–​24, 627–​28, 632–​38, 645, 647–​54, 656–​59, 661–​63,

775

665–​70, 689–​92, 695–​98, 708–​9, 712–​13, 722–​36, 738–​46,  749–​50 Narmer, 140, 144, 249–​52, 256–​57, 260–​61, 263, 268–​77, 280, 298, 303, 325, 435, 506–​7 Nebet, 364, 374–​75 Nebi, 374 Nebka, 337, 339 Nebka Hor Sanakht, 338–​39 Nebra, 295, 297 Nebuwenet, 364 Necherophes, 337 Neferet, 356 Neferhetepes, 346–​48, 347f Neferirkara, 325, 350, 352, 357, 438,  470–​71 Neferirtenef, 357 Neferkara, 374, 440 Neferkauhor,  374–​75 Nefermaat,  378–​79 Negev Desert, 32, 34, 43, 57–​58, 71–​74 Neith, 267–​68, 285, 374 Neithhotep, 276–​77,  280–​81 Nekhbet, 293–​94, 303, 471 Nekhen, 348–​49, 365, 377 Nemrik,  36–​37 Nemtyemsaf (Merenra II), 374 Neret,  510–​11 Nergal,  190–​91 Netiv Hagdud, 35–​36, 42 Netjeraperef,  488–​90 Netjerikhet. See Djoser Netjerikhethor, 363f Netjerirenra, 352 Nevalı Çori, 47–​48, 50–​51

76

776

Index

Niankhhathor, 330f Nigin,  539–​40 Nile River, 1, 7, 8–​9, 101–​2, 106–​9, 113–​14, 118, 123–​24, 126–​31, 138, 141–​42, 323, 326–​28, 370–​71, 380–​81, 397, 398, 402–​4, 407–​ 8, 413, 416, 420–​23, 425–​26, 430–​32, 435, 440, 441, 448, 486, 494, 495, 497–​98, 732–​33 Cataract, First, 101, 250–​51, 253–​ 55, 420–​21, 424–​27, 484, 498 Cataract, Second, 422–​27, 430 Cataract, Third, 424–​26, 429–​30, 434–​35,  441 Cataract, Fifth, 425–​26, 429–​30 delta, 7, 95–​96, 104–​8, 110–​11, 120–​22, 124–​27, 142–​44,  249–​50 valley, 7, 8–​9, 96–​102, 104–​9, 111–​15, 117–​22, 124–​27, 130–​32, 138–​39, 141–​45, 249–​50, 253–​ 54, 338, 340–​41, 368, 370–​71 White,  7–​8 Nineveh, 72–​73, 163–​64, 169–​70, 541–​42, 618,  720–​21 Ningirsu, 208–​9, 552–​53, 587 NinMAR.KI,  642–​44 NinNAGAR,  572–​73 Ninurta, 650 Nippur, 183–​85, 190–​91, 538–​39, 546–​51, 555–​56, 576, 584–​85, 617–​21, 623–​26, 632–​33, 639, 647–​48, 650–​53, 655–​56, 659–​61, 663–​65, 667–​68, 693–​96, 704–​6, 714–​15, 717, 723, 746 Nitiqret, 324

Nubia, 130–​31, 253–​55, 281, 368, 397, 398, 403–​4, 407–​8, 420–​30, 434–​36, 445, 476, 495–​96, 498 Nuzi, 657–​58, 722 Nyankhkhentikhety, 412 Nyankhsekhmet,  473–​74 Nykaankh, 493 Nymaathap,  337–​38 Nynetjer, 295, 298–​300, 327 Nyuserra, 322, 324–​25, 332–​35, 349, 350, 352–​54, 356–​58, 360–​62, 381–​82, 410–​11, 417–​19, 423, 436–​38, 472–​73    Oman, 2–​3, 13, 185 Omari, el-​,  113–​14 Ombos,  340–​41 Osiris, 263–​64, 278, 291, 299–​300, 357, 360, 381–​82, 475, 490 Oxus River, 698    Pabilgames,  574–​75 Parahšum, 707–​8. See also Marhaši Pašime, 551–​52, 555, 622–​23, 629–​31, 719, 722. See also Mišime Patibira, 538–​39,  551–​52 Pehernefer,  342–​43 Pepy I, 325–​26, 328, 335, 361–​65, 367–​ 69, 373, 406, 408–​11, 417, 424, 426–​27, 436–​37, 438, 439, 440–​41, 445, 476, 501, 504 II (Neferkara), 325–​26, 329–​32, 335, 364, 366–​68, 370–​76, 380–​ 82, 406, 408–​11, 417, 419–​20, 427, 429–​30, 433–​34, 436–​40, 443, 476–​77, 504, 510–​11

7

Index Pepynakht. See Heqaib Peqi’in,  75–​76 Peribsen, 299–​301, 304 Perinedju, 330f Perisen, 330f Persen,  346–​48 Persian Gulf, 31–​32, 72, 188, 544–​46, 548, 551–​52, 555, 619–​20, 622, 639, 698, 704–​6, 708–​10, 714–​18, 723–​24, 726–​28,  747–​49 Petra, 49 Pinarbaşi,  37–​38 Pinikir, 586 Pir Hüseyin, 733–​36, 743 Ptahshepses, 351, 353–​56, 357 II,  354–​55 Ptolemy I Soter, 323–​24 II Philadelphus, 323–​24 Pugdan, 634, 639–​40, 653–​54, 658 Punt, 351–​52, 368, 398–​99, 419–​20, 429–​35, 443, 448 Purattum Channel, 12 Puzur-​Eštar, 651–​52,  663 Puzur-​Inšušinak, 555, 614–​15, 668 Puzur-​Mama,  668 Puzur-​Sin, 641,  650–​51    Qa’a, 272f, 292–​95,  296–​97 Qar, 370 Qarunian,  101–​2 Qasr el-​Sayad, 366 Qatna,  542–​43 Qau, 482–​84, 496 Qau el-​Kebir,  482–​83 Qermez Dere, 36–​37

777

Qila el-​Dabba, 486 Qraya,  183–​85 Qubbet el-​Hawa, 368, 484–​86,  511–​13 Quradum, 748    Ra, 297, 323–​24, 342, 344, 346, 348–​49, 353,  470–​71 Ra-​Atum,  490–​91 Radjedef (Djedefra), 344–​45, 404, 408–​9,  470 Raherishefnakht, 363f Rameses II, 322, 324 Raneb, 295, 297 Ranefer, 347f Raneferef, 350, 352–​53, 470–​71 Rašap, 586 Rashepses,  358–​59 Rawer, 335, 364–​65, 473–​74 Rawosre,  325–​26 Red Sea, 3–​4, 9, 13, 101–​3, 398–​99, 409, 413, 416, 419–​20, 421, 430, 431–​34,  495–​96 Rededjet,  325–​26 Rimuš, 614–​15, 617, 619–​21, 627–​ 28, 635–​36, 652, 664, 666, 669, 670, 714–​16, 721–​22, 724–​25,  746–​47 Ruaben, 299 Rudjet,  406–​7 Ruhurater, 586    Sabhra I, 35–​36 Sabni, 427, 511–​13 Sadd el-​Kafara,  342–​43 Safaga,  431–​32 Saĝub, 656, 665

78

778

Index

Sahura, 327, 331–​32, 346–​48, 350–​52, 357, 405, 408–​12, 417, 432–​34, 436–​38, 442,  471–​72 Sais,  113–​14 Šalaša, 586 Šamagan, 586 Samarra, 612–​14,  702–​3 Šamaš, 635–​36, 717 Samsat,  746–​47 Samsi-​Addu,  720–​21 Samsu-​iluna,  695–​96 Saqqara, 256–​57, 260–​62, 265, 274, 277–​78, 280, 282–​83, 285, 287–​92, 294, 300, 324–​25, 328–​30, 333, 337–​38, 346–​48, 351, 355–​58, 361, 364, 374, 375, 420–​21, 443–​45, 468–​69, 474, 476, 492, 501 Saratigubisin,  654–​55 Sargon, 532–​34, 542–​43, 552–​56, 559, 560, 612–​15, 617, 619–​27, 629–​31, 633–​34, 636, 650, 664, 667–​68, 670, 686–​714, 716, 717, 719–​27, 732, 747–​50 Šar-​kali-​šarri, 614–​15, 617, 619, 621–​22, 633–​35, 637–​38, 641, 643–​45, 649–​52, 654–​55, 659–​ 61, 663, 665, 666, 668, 670, 745–​47 Šarru-​tab,  641 Šar-​Sin,  737–​38 Satet, 497–​98, 504 Satju,  425–​26 Sayala, 253–​54 Scorpion, 270–​71,  506–​7 Sedjer, 445 Sedment Mayana, 113–​14

Seferer,  442–​43 Seheteptawy, 362 Šehna, 542–​43, 617–​18, 699–​700, 738–​40, 744–​45. See also Tell Leilan Sekhemib, 300 Sekhemka-​Sedj,  282–​83 Sekhemkhet, 338–​39, 410 Semerkhet,  291–​92 Šenaminda,  732–​33 Seneb, 442 Senedjemib Inti, 335, 358–​59 Senusret I, 504 II,  500–​1 III, 360 Serabit el-​Khadim,  342–​43 Serer,  443–​45 Šerihum, 717 Seshat,  436–​37 Seshathetep Heti, 379 Seshemnefer IV, 335 Seshemu, 330f Sesheshet I,  361–​62 Nubkhetnebty,  361–​62 Sathathor,  368–​69 Waatetkhethor,  361–​62 Seth, 299–​301, 303–​4, 490 Setjau,  428–​29 Setjet,  279–​80 Sety I, 263–​64, 372 Sha’ar Hagolan, 63–​65 Shahr-​i Sokhta, 206, 544–​46 Shalmaneser III, 732–​33 Sharuna,  495–​96 Shatt al-​Arab, 188

79

Index Sheikh Hassan, 175–​76 Sheikh Said, 366 Shemai,  374–​75 Shepseskaf, 346, 348, 381–​82 Shepseskara, 352 Shepsi,  483–​84 Shillourokambos, 43–​44,  64–​65 Shiqmim, 71–​72, 75–​76,  78–​79 Sidgau,  715–​16 Sikkur-​kin, 641, 662 Sila,  340–​41 Šimanum, 729–​31, 743 Šimaški, 586 Simurrum, 707, 728–​29 Sin, 635–​36, 717. See also Nanna Sinai, 9, 43, 76, 96, 111–​12, 131, 255, 269–​70, 274, 276–​78, 280–​81, 288–​89, 293–​94, 297, 338, 342–​43, 368, 398, 419–​20, 432–​33, 435, 443–​44, 476 Singara, 731 Sippar, 12, 550–​51, 585, 623–​24, 632–​33, 636, 651–​52, 717, 737–​38,  748 Sirara,  539–​40 Sirwan, 9–​10, 707, 728–​29 Sneferu, 322, 327, 330–​32, 334–​35, 339–​43, 346, 348, 357, 367, 377–​79, 381–​82, 398, 410–​11, 413, 417, 419–​24, 430, 433–​36, 438–​40, 469–​70, 477, 482, 488, 501 Sodmein Cave, 102–​3, 111–​12 Sohag,  370–​71 Sokar, 492 Šu-​Ilišu, 661–​66 Šu-​Migri,  653–​54

779

Šuaš-​takal,  650–​52 Subartu, 546–​47, 725–​26, 729–​31,  742–​43 Subir, 546–​47,  554–​55 Sud,  565–​66 Šudurul, 614–​15,  746–​47 Suen. See Nanna; Sin Suez Gulf, 409, 413, 418–​19, 432–​33 Isthmus, 433–​34, 443 Šulgi,  670–​71 Sumer, 183–​85, 190–​91, 534, 546–​ 47, 548–​49, 552–​57, 566, 576, 580, 587, 593, 614, 619–​22, 639, 650, 652, 657, 658, 671, 687, 699–​700, 702–​7, 711–​12, 726–​27,  733 Šumšani,  623–​24 Ṣumur,  441–​42 Šuruppag, 535, 538–​39, 549–​52, 564–​ 66, 569, 577–​78, 585, 590–​95, 625–​28,  632–​33 Šuruš-​kin,  622 Susa, 17, 167–​68, 175–​76, 180–​81, 183–​85, 190–​91, 197, 205–​6, 216–​17, 544–​46, 548, 588–​90, 639–​40, 665–​66, 707–​11, 715–​16, 718, 719, 723–​29, 744–​45,  748 Susiana, 178–​79, 182–​83, 205, 218–​19, 221–​22, 586, 708–​9,  726–​27    Ta-​Tjehenu,  435 Ta-​Seti, 254–​55,  283 Tahiš-​atal,  729–​31 Talhatum, 731 Talmuš,  729–​31

780

780

Index

Taram-​Akkad,  741–​42 Tarkhan, 126–​27, 134–​35, 270, 282–​83,  468 Tarut Island, 570 Taurus Mountains, 9–​10, 13–​45, 50, 52–​54, 96–​101,  734–​36 Tehna, 350–​51, 493, 509–​10 Tel Erani, 274 Tel Gerisa, 442–​43 Tel Poran, 442–​43 Teleilat Ghassul, 71–​74 Tell Abada, 72–​73, 80, 194–​95 Tell Abu Hamid, 71–​72 Tell Abu Hureyra, 30–​31, 40–​41, 45–​46, 48–​49, 51, 54–​55,  68–​69 Tell Abu Matar, 78–​79 Tell Abu Salabikh, 183–​85, 220, 535, 546–​47, 549–​50, 563, 585,  590–​91 Tell Abu Sheeja, 622–​23, 719 Tell ‘Ain el-​Kerkh, 55–​56 Tell el-​Amarna, 502 Tell al-​Aqar, 728 Tell Arad, 274 Tell Arpachiyah, 64–​67, 75 Tell as-​Sawwan, 62 Tell Ashara, 542–​43, 713 Tell Asmar, 532, 617–​18 Tell Baradan, 728 Tell Barri, 738–​39 Tell Bderi, 541–​42 Tell Beydar, 534–​35, 538, 542–​43, 547–​48, 557, 559, 579–​80, 700,  738–​39 Tell Bi’a, 542–​43, 557, 710–​11, 722 Tell Bismaya, 540. See also Adab

Tell Bouqras, 48–​49, 58–​59, 66–​67 Tell Brak, 72–​73, 171–​72, 175–​76, 186–​ 87, 194–​97, 219, 541–​43, 557, 559, 617–​18, 699–​700, 722, 734–​40 Tell Chagar Bazar, 737, 741–​42 Tell Chuera, 543, 557, 558 Tell el-​Fara’in, 118, 124–​26. See also Buto Tell el-​Farkha, 118, 124–​26, 495–​96, 505–​8 Tell-​e Gezer, 206 Tell Halaf, 62–​63 Tell Halula, 48–​49 Tell Hammam et-​Turkman, 186–​87 Tell Hamoukar, 175–​76, 186–​87,  189–​90 Tell Hariri, 542–​43, 557. See also Mari Tell al-​Hiba, 538–​39. See also Telloh Tell-​e Iblis,  183–​85 Tell Ibrahim Awad, 270, 506–8 Tell Ibzekh, 540 Tell el-​Iswid,  124–​26 Tell-​e Malyan, 183–​85, 206, 544–​46,  698–​99 Tell Jidr, 540 Tell Jokha, 540, 553–​54. See also Umma Tell Kazel, 441–​42 Tell el-​Kerkh, 66 Tell Kitan, 71 Tell Kurdu, 80 Tell Leilan, 542–​43, 617–​18, 699–​700, 738–​40. See also Šehna Tell Mardikh, 534–​35, 542–​43, 556–​57. See also Ebla

781

Index Tell Mishrife, 542–​43. See also Qatna Tell Mozan, 542–​43, 699–​700, 734–​36, 738–​39,  741–​42 Tell Mureybet, 42 Tell al-​‘Oueili, 72 Tell Qannas, 175–​76, 183–​85 Tell Raqa’i, 541–​42 Tell Ras Budran, 368, 416 Tell Rubeideh, 183–​85 Tell Sabi Abyad, 58–​59, 61–​62, 66–​67 Tell es-​Sakan, 126–​27, 253, 274,  442–​43 Tell Shmid, 540 Tell es-​Suleimeh, 728 Tell Tsaf, 71 Tell al-​Ubaid, 77–​78,  164–​65 Tell Uqair, 183–​85, 190–​91, 210 Tell Zurghul, 539–​40 Telloh, 183–​637. See also Girsu Temetjer, 428 Tepe Farukhabad, 183–​85 Tepe Ganj Dareh, 67–​68 Tepe Gawra, 75, 80, 164–​65,  188–​89 Tepe Ghabristan, 183–​85 Tepe Musiyan, 707–​8 Tepe Ozbaki, 206 Tepe Sialk, 206 Tepe Sofalin, 206 Tepe Yahya, 183–​85, 206 Tepecik,  183–​85 Tepemankh,  490–​91 Terqa, 542–​43, 559, 713 Teti, 325–​26, 358, 361–​63, 365, 368–​69, 380–​82, 408–​9, 438, 440–​41,  476

781

Thebes, 370–​71,  460–​63 Thinis, 126–​27, 262–​63,  428–​29 Thoth, 492 Thutmose III, 424 Tibar, Mount, 731–​32 Tigris River, 4–​5, 7, 9–​12, 31–​32, 36–​38, 42–​43, 52–​54, 62, 72, 181, 188–​89, 540–​42, 552, 559, 612–​14, 698, 702–​7, 723, 729–​33, 736–​37, 742–​45 Timna,  78–​79 Titriş Höyük, 746–​47 Tjehenu, 252–​53, 273, 287–​88,  435–​37 Tjemehu, 428–​29, 445 Tjenery, 372 Tjenti, 330f Tjenut, 298 Tol-​e Nurabad,  11–​12 Tol-​e Spid,  11–​12 Toshka, 398, 405 Transcaucasia, 220 Tukriš, 557 Tur Abdin, 729–​31, 736–​37 Tura, 126–​27, 134–​35, 277–​78,  473–​74 Tuta-​šar-​libbiš, 641, 649–​50,  659–​61 Tuṭṭanab-​šum, 623–​24, 650–​51,  662–​63 Tuttul, 542–​43, 557, 699–​700, 709–​11, 713, 719–​20, 722–​24 Tutub, 532, 584–​85, 614, 634–​36, 714–​15. See also Khafajah Ty, 355–​56, 472–​73,  475–​76 Tyrrhenian Sea, 13

782

782

Index

Ulmaš, 686 Umma, 197–​98, 538–​40, 546, 550–​56, 564–​65, 585, 587, 619–​20, 622–​27, 629–​33, 635, 639, 644–​51, 656–​58, 665, 693, 704–​6, 722, 726–​27, 733 Umm al-​Aqarib, 540 Umm Dabaghiyah, 62 Umm el-​Hafriyat, 661 Umm el-​Jir,  653–​54 Umm el-​Qaab, 142–​44, 260, 263, 269–​73, 275, 276, 278, 280–​82, 284, 286–​87, 289–​92, 296, 300, 301, 304 Umm Qseir, 62–​63 Unas, 322, 324, 335, 359–​62, 381–​82, 417, 424, 436–​38, 444–​45, 475,  490–​91 Unet,  442–​45 Upper Egypt, 7, 216–​17, 249, 251–​ 52, 271–​72, 275–​77, 279–​80, 283, 348–​49, 354–​55, 358–​59, 368, 369 Upper Land, 709–​11 Upper Sea, 714–​15, 719–​20 Ur, 174–​75, 183–​85, 190–​91, 218, 538–​39, 548–​49, 551–​56, 558, 562–​64, 570–​71, 575, 577–​78, 584–​85, 619–​20, 622–​27, 632–​33, 639, 651–​52, 664–​65, 668, 670–​ 71, 694–​96, 704–​6, 714–​15, 717, 724–​26,  732 Ur-​Zababa,  703–​4 Urfa,  175–​76 Uri, 534, 612–​14 Urkeš, 532–​43, 587–​88, 699–​700, 734–​36, 738–​39, 741–​42,  744–​45

Urnamma, 174–​75, 671 Uru’az, 554–​55, 570 Uru’inimgina. See Erekagina Urua,  707–​9 Uruk, 125, 163–​222, 440, 538–​39, 541, 548–​56, 559, 563, 574–​75, 585, 614, 619–​21, 632–​33, 637–​39, 657–​58, 686–​89, 693, 694–​95, 701–​6, 709–​10, 714–​15, 719–​20, 723, 742–​44,  749–​50 Urukagina. See Erekagina Urum, 191, 548–​49 Urutigi,  742–​43 Userkaf, 330–​31, 342, 346–​53, 357, 360, 376–​78, 381–​82, 412,  443–​44 Userkara, 325–​26,  361–​63 Utu, 585, 643–​44    Van, Lake, 57–​58    Wadi ‘Ameyra, 269–​70, 274, 280–​81,  297 Wadi Allaqi, 407–​8 Wadi Arabah, 111–​12, 413 Wadi Dara, 407–​8 Wadi Faynan, 38, 78–​79 Wadi Garrawi, 342–​43 Wadi el-​Gash, 274 Wadi Hammamat, 9, 398, 408–​9 Wadi el-​Humur,  288–​89 Wadi el-​Jarf, 413–​20, 421–​22,  433–​34 Wadi el-​Kharig, 412 Wadi Maghara, 338, 368, 410–​11,  418–​19

783

Index Wadi Umm Balad, 407–​8 Wari’um, 534, 612–​14 Warka. See Uruk Washptah,  473–​74 Wawat, 366, 425–​29, 445 Wedjebten, 364 Wehemka, 330f Weni, 364–​65, 420–​21, 437, 445, 447, 476 Wepwawet,  288–​89 Werdjedbau, 429–​30, 434 Western Desert, 9, 102–​4, 113–​14, 255, 260, 297, 343, 405–​8, 415–​16, 428–​30, 443–​44, 486, 495–​96,  498–​99 Wetjtj, 428    Yam, 425–​26, 428–​30, 448 Yorghan Tepe, 657–​58, 722, 739–​40   

783

Zab River Lower, 9–​10, 188 Upper, 9–​10, 188 Zabala, 623, 627, 639, 651–​52, 657–​58 Zabalam, 190–​91, 538–​40, 548–​49, 564–​65,  584–​85 Zafarana, 413 Zagros Mountains, 5, 9–​13, 16, 44–​45, 52–​54, 62–​63, 96–​101, 188–​89, 570, 636, 715–​16, 728 Zahara, 715–​16,  746–​47 Zawyet el-​Aryan, 126–​27, 130–​31, 269–​70, 338–​39,  345 Zawyet el-​Maytin (Zawyet Sultan), 340–​41, 366,  495–​96 Zawyet Sultan. See Zawyet el-​Maytin Zeb, 428 Zeribar, Lake, 16, 17 Zugalum, 558

784