What is an Empire?

 

 

 

What Is An Empire?

 

 

Head of Augustus, British Museum, London.

 

 

Candace of Meroe

It was an insult, a humiliation, and that is how it was intended. When the African kingdom of Meroe captured a bronze statue of the Roman emperor Augustus, in 25 BC, the queen, or  “Candace,” of Meroe had the statue’s head removed and buried it under the threshold of her people’s temple.  On entering, worshippers stepped on the head of the leader of the most powerful political entity in the world at that time, with the exception, perhaps, of China. The head, unearthed by twentieth century archaeologists, now stands in the British Museum in London. You can still see embedded in it, tiny grains of sand from the Sahara.

 

The head itself was carefully crafted by the top Roman bronze-workers of the day. It was designed to show Augustus in the best possible light: strong, young, and powerful.  As such it was a major piece of Rome’s propaganda campaign, selling the empire to its conquered provinces. In the few years before the appearance of Christianity, this empire stretched from the Atlantic coast of Europe in the West, the Rhine and Danube rivers in the North, Turkey in the East, and in the south, well, it sort of petered out south of Egypt, in the Candace’s territory, which as historian Neil McGregor says, is “a kind of geopolitical fault-line where the Mediterranean world clashes with Africa.”

 

Augustus had posted statues like these all over his empire, a means, perhaps, of reminding people far from Rome, the epicenter of the empire, who was in charge. Meroe’s leader, referred to by later historians as a “warrior-queen,” was clearly not impressed. The Greek geographer, Strabo, described her unflatteringly as “a masculine woman, who had lost one eye,” and goes on to tell the story of how the queen attacked and destroyed several Roman frontier forts, seeing that the Roman army was busy fighting Arabs elsewhere. She removed Augustus’s propagandistic statue and defiled it. A Roman general responded by attacking settlements in Meroe. “He made prisoners of the inhabitants,” says Strabo,  “and returned back again with the booty, as he judged any farther advance into the country impracticable on account of the roads.”

 

 

Introduction

What was Rome doing in Meroe anyway? Why would a northern Mediterranean power find it necessary to transport thousands of men across the sea, then march them through Egypt into the eastern reaches of the southern Sahara desert? This question is central to any exploration of ancient empires, including those discussed in this chapter: the Persians, or Achaemenids (550 to 330 BC), the Romans, whose empire lasted from approximately 30 BC to 476 AD, the Han Chinese (206 BCE – 220 CE) and the Mauryan dynasty of India (522-185 BCE).

 

All these empires were expansionist, embarking on energetic campaigns of conquest. In expanding, empires often created resistance and were obliged to keep garrisons and frontier posts in far-flung places to protect their interests. They wielded great influence in the conquered territories, social, political, economic and religious, as the “export” of much of the culture of the home-country, or metropole, became one of the hallmarks of empire. Such influence resulted in legacies which span centuries, if not millennia, and we can still see their traces in our world today.

 

Not perhaps the first, but certainly the largest, this chapter will look at how these empires arose and what motivated their growth. Once established, how did they maintain their possessions? What was life like for the citizens of such states, and the conquered people they ruled? How did they balance power between the imperial “center” and the provincial peripheries? What combination of power, both military and other, did they use in this endeavor?  Were they generally benign or harmful, destructive or beneficial, and to whom? Finally we must look at the imperial lifecycle, and ask questions about their decline, for decline they do, without exception. We will also look at their legacies, for even after collapsing, their memories linger and their political and cultural forms find echoes throughout history.

 

1. Why Was Rome in Africa and Not Africa in Rome? 

Can any one be so indifferent or idle as not to care to know by what means, and under what kind of polity, almost the whole inhabited world was conquered and brought under the dominion of the single city of Rome, and that too within a period of not quite fifty-three years? [220-167 BCE] Polybius. 

 

Claiming that Rome dominated “almost the whole inhabited world,” was a bit of a stretch. Nonetheless, if you were the ruler of Meroe in 25 BC you would be wary of this gigantic northern power, apparently intent on swallowing the entire globe.  You would likely have felt a deep sense of pride in your position, and in the territory over which you held sway. Quite apart from the natural pride you might feel in your own identity and the reluctance to have strangers take over your society, this part of Africa was enjoying something of a high point in its history to-date.

 

Several major contributions swept from East to West Africa in the first millennium BC, in specific, iron working (which some scholars believe to have been invented independently in Africa), several new and successful crops, and the development of long-distance sea and land-based commerce.  Iron technology began before the classical age, and defined it through the use to which these tools were put, trade and war, most notably.  Trade played a vital role in shrinking the world and tying it together in an interdependent web. Sea routes from the Mediterranean to Northern Europe connected resources with markets, and overland routes across Africa and Eurasia (such as the fabled Silk Road) put suppliers and consumers of goods such as precious metals, spices and tools, in touch with each other across Eurasia. Meroe, located in an area often referred to as Nubia, was the product of these developments, and played a large part in spreading technological change to other parts of Africa.

 

Nubia, which is the generic name for the Nile valley south of the first cataract (shallow area or rapids), is mostly in today’s Sudan, but in ancient times it was home to several complex state-level societies going back as far as about 2400 BC. Nubia always had close—and often violent—contact with its larger northern neighbor, Egypt. Such was the success of one Nubian civilization, however (Kush), that it invaded Egypt in 730 BCE and ruled it for over half a century.

 

 

 

After about 590 BC, Meroe, further south along the Nile than Kush, became the center of Nubian civilization. By 200 BCE it had become a major site for the production of iron, as the heaps of slag—a by-product of the process of smelting iron—attest even today. Local forests, which are long gone now, provided the wood to smelt the iron, which was an extremely fuel-intensive process.  Meroe not only used iron effectively in weapons for its military, but traded it along with ivory and gold, long-distance overland to the west and by sea to the east, as well as up the Nile corridor. With its wealthy resource base, it is not hard to see why, by the time the Romans arrived, the Candace did not feel like bowing to them. [graphic source: http://wysinger.homestead.com/nubian_102.html Lion Temple of Naqa. Showing Meroian king and queen striking enemies]

 

There were big differences, however, between Africa and the Classical Mediterranean world. Although both were literate, we do not have the volume of texts from Africa that we have from the Graeco-Roman world at this time. The significance of this cannot be overstated. One of the primary reasons that Rome is studied so much is that the Romans produced so much literature. We have diaries, histories, essays, poetry, all written by the historical actors themselves, providing us with details about all conceivable aspects of their lives. The Merotic script diverged from Egyptian hieroglyphs over time, and its linear script is still undeciphered. Once translated, it will no doubt vastly increase our knowledge of the civilization—yet without the volume of Rome and China.

 

Another major difference is population. Some estimates put the Roman and Chinese empires together at around half of the world’s population at this time. What is the significance of population? Large populations create large economies; food is produced in exponentially larger quantities, leading to greater surpluses, and therefore to more specialization in such pursuits as agriculture, metal work, architecture, engineering, warfare—the building blocks of large states and empires. Peasants and farmers could be taxed, in goods and cash, allowing states to amass fortunes the size of which had never been seen in history.

 

This comparative population differential made it unlikely that Meroe would project its power far beyond its borders, as it would have needed not only a sizable population itself to begin with, but also dense settlement in the conquered areas adjacent to it. Meroe would have used such population density to bolster its own forces, just as the Romans did when they expanded, first from a city-state among other city states throughout Italy, and then around the Mediterranean world, and north into France and Germany.  Just as hurricanes need moisture from the evaporating water of oceans to maintain their strength, losing force once they hit land, expanding empires tend to loose momentum if they expand into lightly populated areas from which they can glean no new human resources. Meroe was the population center of gravity for its region, but it had sparsely-populated desert to the south and west, a powerful neighbor, Egypt, to its north, and the Ocean to the East.

 

What Did Empires Look Like from The Outside? 

The theme of resistance is  a constant in the history of empires. If Meroe represented the southern extremity of Rome’s power, Britain was the northern end. There, resistance is best illustrated by another famous enemy of Rome, the queen of the Iceni Tribe, Boudicca. By AD 40, the Romans had crossed the English Channel and were busy building fortresses and garrison towns in Britain. The island, at this point in time, was home to groups of more or less independent tribes and chiefdoms, each with their own territory.  Boudicca’s husband, Prasutagus, was the leader of one of these, and aware that he could not fight the Romans off forever, had become a client king, an arrangement whereby Rome allowed him to continue business as usual for the payment of tribute. The Roman historian Tacitus heard the story from his father-in-law Agricola, who was a general in Britain at the time:

 

“Prasutagus, king of the Iceni, famed for his long prosperity, had made the emperor his heir along with his two daughters, under the impression that this token of submission would put his kingdom and his house out of the reach of wrong. But the reverse was the result, so much so that his kingdom was plundered by centurions, his house by slaves, as if they were the spoils of war. First, his wife Boudicea was scourged, and his daughters outraged. All the chief men of the Iceni, as if Rome had received the whole country as a gift, were stripped of their ancestral possessions, and the king’s relatives were made slaves.”

 

Inheriting royal property was illegal under Roman law, and Rome was not about to share a kingdom with a woman. The Romans saw in the death of Prasutagus an opportunity to nullify their agreement with him and take over his possessions directly. Boudicca herself was flogged and forced to watch the raping of her teenage daughters. It is not easy to explain why, exactly, such brutality was necessary (surely they could simply have put them in prison, or politely exiled them to France?), but there seems to be an imperial habit to not only defeat, but humiliate and utterly demoralize one’s opponents.

 

In a sequence seen repeatedly in the history of empires, the heavy hand of the conqueror created a rebellion, in this case of the outraged Iceni and many surrounding tribes who saw in Boudicca’s treatment their own future, no doubt.  They turned on Roman towns in Britain and burned them, including the garrison town of Colchester and Londinium (London) which, as Tacitus says, “though undistinguished by the name of a colony, was much frequented by a number of merchants and trading vessels.” Boudicca became the leader of this revolt which nearly catapulted the Romans out of Britain, but instead ended with the tribal alliance broken, and Boudicca dead.

 

If we ask why it was not Candace who invaded Rome, we can ask the same of Boudicca, or a hundred other local kings, queens or chiefs who interacted with the Roman empire.  We cannot rule out the possibility that they would have, had they been able (this recalls the Hobbesian trap described in chapter four). And indeed more than once  “barbarian” tribes did attack Rome, effectively ending the Roman empire in its western provinces in 410 A.D.

 

But at this point in history, Meroe, no peace-loving utopia itself, lacked the resources to project its power as far as Italy, nor did it evidently possess the organizational structure, social, economic, and political, to allow it to generate such resources. Whether they “would have if they could have” gets to the heart of whether or not empires are “inevitable” for those who have the means. The same question could be asked about the Britons, who some 1600 years later would be able to expand far beyond their borders,  (though they did not go to Rome, but to Cairo, Delhi, Cape Town, Jamestown, and other distant places).  In so doing, the British ironically invoked the “glories” of the Roman empire, even though that ancient empire had in the all-but-forgotten past defiled their ancestors.

 

Is Empire A Eurasian Thing?

Although empires show up globally, Eurasia generated larger polities earlier than elsewhere. The kinds of polities we find in Africa at this time, for instance, are all significantly smaller than the “mega” states of Rome, China, Persia and India.  The same is true of the Americas: the polities of Monte Alban and Teotihuacan, in the Mexican highlands and Mesoamerica respectively, were far smaller, and somewhat later. How can we account for such differences?

 

Many scholars opt for environmental explanations.  It is hard to ignore the influence of environment on humanity, as Africanist Erik Gilbert points out: “On some level we are all environmental determinists, after all no one has ever invested a great deal of time in wondering why Eskimos never developed agriculture.” Gilbert points to particular challenges to the development of big states in Sub-Saharan Africa, in particular the land, which was much wetter, and not given to the production of storable grains, such as wheat, rice and maize, which are the engines of all early civilizations.  With the (later) appearance of maize in West Africa, there was an explosion of state building, after all, “yams and even bananas are hard to build an empire on.” Similar challenges faced state and “mega-state” building in the Americas, and might go a long way to explaining their absence there until later historical eras. We will look at this issue in more depth in other chapters, and consider environmental factors as well as different strategies chosen or invented by different peoples.

 

Why Africa did not produce “Rome” is, ultimately, a misleading question, however, for by some estimates more than half of Eurasia at this time lived outside of states; you could, therefore, ask why Romania did not produce an empire, or northern Thailand, or Wales, etc.

2. Are Empires Just large States? 

A Great god is Ahuramazda, who created this earth, who created yonder sky, who created man, who created happiness for man, who made Darius king, one king over many, one lord of many.  (Inscription on Darius I’s rock tomb at Naqsh-i-Rustam)

 

Two thousand years ago approximately half of the human population lived under the control of the Chinese Han and the Roman empires. Owing to the state of their geographical knowledge (and perhaps their assumptions of greatness) both empires assumed they were the lords of the entire planet, orbis terrerum in Latin, and tianxia “All under Heaven,” in Chinese.

 

 

 

Big states they certainly were: The Han census of 2 C.E. (carried out for the time-honored purposes of taxation) recorded 59.6 million souls. The Roman population had reached between 65 and 75 million people by around the mid-second century C.E., according to different estimates.  Each empire controlled approximately 4 million square miles of territory. Ancient population studies are notoriously unreliable, but recent guesses put the global figure in the first two centuries C.E. at between 170 and 330 million. [graphic source: Persian Empire http://peter.mackenzie.org/history/hist1020.htm]

 

But apart from size, which is certainly a characteristic of empires, they are different, structurally and functionally.  Lets look first at their structure. Empires are made up of states, they are the “Russian-Doll” of polities, states-within-states, each state owing allegiance—usually this means money—to the imperial government.  If you imagine your state’s governor as a king, then, if the United States were an empire, the president in Washington, D.C. would be the emperor. The Persian term that comes closest to “emperor,” for example—shah-an-shah, literally means “king of kings,” suggesting that the boss of the Achaemenids ruled over subjugated kingdoms, in effect creating a “super-state.”

 

The early history of the Achaemenid empire (named after its dynastic founder, Achaemenes), illustrates how this happened. The largest of all the ancient Near Eastern empires, it spanned from Egypt to central Asia and the Indus valley in its heyday. The Achaemenids began as rulers of a regional state, what we would think of as a kingdom—one “king” ruling an ethnically and linguistically homogenous group of people.  Excuse the following short piece of what seems to be really old-fashioned history, but this is how it went down: Beginning with conquests by king Cyrus “The Great” (ruled from 559-530) and his son Cambyses II (ruled from 530-22 BCE), the Persians defeated the kingdom of the Medes, in modern-day Iran, and then Lydia, in modern-day Turkey, and then Babylon, in Iraq, all between 550 and 539 BCE. A few years later his son Cambyses II (notice they are keeping it all in the family, another imperial trait) conquered Egypt, helping himself to a rich treasure trove and immense prestige. Imperial expansion slowed under later emperors, notably Xerxes and Darius who launched multiple campaigns, into such areas as Scythia and Greece, with mixed success.  That short summary should give you the picture: Conquest of neighboring kingdoms and absorption of them under one polity creates the basis of an empire.

 

 

 

The tomb of Darius I (522-486 BC), carved into a massive rock face at Naqsh-i-Rustam near his capital Persepolis, bears an inscription that neatly illustrates this idea of Persian overlordship. It lists the peoples and kingdoms over which he ruled:

“Media, Elam, Parthia, Aria, Bactria, Sogdiana, Chorasmia, Drangiana, Arachosia, Sattagydia, Gandara, India, Scythians, who drink haoma (an intoxicating ritual drink), Scythians with pointed caps, Babylonia, Assyria, Arabia, Egypt, Armenia, Cappadocia, Sardis, Ionia, Scythians who are across the sea, Thrace, Petasos-wearing Ionians (a type of hat), Lybians, Kushites, men of Maka, Carians.” [graphic source: http://quintinlake.photoshelter.com/gallery-image/Drawing-Parallels-Architecture-Observed-Prints/G0000G9u1yEx2orU/I0000cZba_LO4zZw]

 

 

 

 

 

Many of these place names have changed, but they cover most south west Asia, a giant tract of land from Egypt across most of today’s Middle East, including Turkey and Iran and into Afghanistan, Pakistan and India.

 

Han China differs from Persia and Rome in that it inherited a largely unified polity from the Qin dynasty, which had created the idea of one entity called “China.”  To some extent, then, China having done the work of unification some time before the Han, was on its way to governing more like a state than an empire, albeit a very big one. But the work was not complete, as historian Mark Edward Lewis explains: “One generation of imperial Qin was not sufficient to eradicate local loyalties and secure universal acceptance of an absolute autocrat.”  After the Qin emperor, Shiu Huangdi, died in 211 BC, the political system he created collapsed. In the ensuing civil war, a general of peasant origin by the name of Liu Bang came to power and, in 202 BC, proclaimed himself emperor (he was later known as Emperor Han Gaozu). Thus began the Han empire.

 

Ancient Indian empires also fit the king-of-kings model. They left much less historical data than China and Rome, however.  The records we have come from Greek writers such as Megasthenes who was a diplomatic envoy of the Seleucid empire in Turkey (a dynastic offshoot of Alexander the Great’s empire). The Arthasastra, an ancient text on Indian statecraft, believed by many to have been written during the Mauryan period (and by others to be somewhat later), also tells us much about the empire. But much of our historical data comes from rock inscriptions in Greek, Pakrit, and Aramaic, the primary spoken languages in the region, in particular the Rock edicts of King Asoka, mentioned in chapter four.

 

 

 

The Mauryan kings of Magadha controlled multiple contemporary city-states, which they had conquered in military campaigns. With their intensive agricultural development and their participation in trade, principally along the Ganges river, they created a single polity which controlled a large part of India’s Gangetic plain and beyond. Historians generally see Chandragupta, the first Mauryan ruler, as having a humble background, although later Buddhist sources claim he was related to the Buddha, which is most likely a political attempt to confer legitimacy on the emperor. (Graphic source: http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/maur/hd_maur.htm)

 

 

Ruling from their base at Pataliputra, in the far north east of India, the Maurya conquered a territory that stretched from Bengal in the east, Afghanistan in the west and to most of the southern part of the Deccan peninsular (modern day India). Their polity was relatively short-lived, however, beginning around 322 BC and dissolving after the death of Asoka in 232 BC.

 

Empires ruled over diverse peoples, with multiple linguistic, religious and ethnic background, as a result of their conquest of them.  Because of the difficulty of effectively governing such large areas, most empires devolved authority, and running costs, upon local rulers.  Ancient empires were, therefore, tolerant of regional diversity, and often set modest goals in terms of how much influence they wielded in far flung provinces, seeing it as sufficient to receive tribute, or taxes, to make the effort of conquest financially worthwhile.

 

But tolerant of diversity did not mean egalitarian.  “The concept of empire,” say historians Jane Burbank and Frank Cooper, “presumes that different peoples within the polity will be governed differently.”  Ethnic differences within the empire, in particular perhaps in Rome, ensured differences of treatment, and this was evident in Roman law. In the provinces—the conquered territories outside of Italy—Romans had their legal matters decided as in Rome, whereas non-Romans had to rely on local legal practices, and in cases involving Romans and non-Romans, still further sets of legal rules were drawn up.

 

But as in non-imperial states, there were other divisions in the social fabric of the empire, most notably that of class. China was populated mainly by rural peasants. Many of these were small landholders, able to farm their land, under the Han this would have been a few acres, in return for a large cash or produce tax which was payable to their local government representative. When payment was impossible their land was often forfeited and they would be forced to work harder to rent it back. Apart from peasants, merchants represented another class, often very wealthy, in spite of the Confucian hostility towards profit.

 

The Roman republic was built by a system of citizen-soldiery, in which every citizen provided extensive military service. The lower classes, or Plebians, therefore actually wielded some power under the Republic, and had their representative, or Tribune, in the Senate looking after their interests. With citizen-participation at its core, Rome’s soldiery felt some sense of ownership of military endeavors.  The Plebians were not shy of standing up for their rights; “class struggles,” says sociologist Michael Mann, “contributed much to the military effectiveness of the Roman Republic.” In the later Republic the power of the plebs waned as aristocratic families, enriched by conquest, gutted the institutional power of the senate.

 

 

 

 

During the last two centuries B.C.E, extraordinary wealth, in the form of coin, precious metals and other resources, poured into Rome from its conquests. Did a rising tide float all boats?  Not really.  As archaeologists from the Anglo-American project in Pompeii have discovered, Pompeii’s society was sharply divided between haves and have nots during the Roman empire, and this is in contrast to what they found in early Roman eras and before. Preserved in volcanic ash from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in A.D. 79, Pompeiian villas tell of a world of elite aristocrats. In some cases multiple houses have been knocked together to make one enormous home, complete with separate quarters for slaves and servants.  Earlier archaeological remains reveal a far more standardized residential picture, with no such villas. The take-home message is that the wealth of conquest created distinct social inequality, which widened through the late republic and into the phase of the empire. The many eateries or bars in Pompeii suggest that the majority of the population lived off a kind of ancient fast-food, as thousands of peasants, thrown off the land to make room for huge estates worked by foreign slaves, poured into the city to look for work. [Graphic: Via Consulare in Pompeii. Source: http://www.archaeology.org/interactive/pompeii/tour.html

 

 

In Rome the situation was much worse. With a population of around one million in the early empire it was the largest city on earth, and was packed with people living on the bread line. Crime was rife, disease endemic. Riches from ceaseless conquest created architectural splendor; the aristocrats to whom the treasure accrued spent most of it on themselves, building lavish houses and country estates and developing ostentatious lifestyles. Social safety nets were not a part of the Roman world, and poverty was such that there may have even been benefits to slavery—slave-owners at the very least fed and housed slaves, even if they extended them no civil or human rights whatsoever; slaves could be raped, beaten, even killed with immunity.

 

Instead of welfare, the emperors instituted what they called “Bread and Circuses,” for the diversion of the population: free bread was often available, and the free circuses involved chariot and horse racing, which was wildly popular, as well as the gladiatorial battles which were held in amphitheaters large and small, the largest being the Coliseum in Rome, built around A.D. 70 under the supervision of the emperor Vespasian. Capable of seating 50,000 people it hosted mock battles of hundreds of men, mostly captured slaves and some professional gladiators, mercenaries and ex-soldiers, as well as battles against wild animals, thousands of which were imported from North Africa, largely depopulating that region of these beasts.  Nine thousand wild animals were killed over 100 days in Rome to mark the dedication of the Coliseum.  Eleven thousand were killed to celebrate Trajan’s conquest of Dacia. These isolated “special” orgies of killing do not include the regular, scheduled, massacres. By the early centuries CE, elephant, rhino and zebra were extinct in North Africa, hippos from the Lower Nile and the tiger in Northern Iran.

[Colloseum. graphic source: http://www.visitingdc.com/rome/colosseum-picture.asp

The circuses were a necessary diversion. Civil disorder was never far away, banditry was common in the countryside and those lucky enough to have estates kept them well-gated and guarded.  Roman sources tell us about several slave revolts in the later empire, but whether there were plebian uprisings is not so clear, as Michael Mann points out: “We cannot really be sure whether it is revolts or records that are absent. The literate class did not seem keen on noticing or chronicling the discontent of their subordinates.”

 

The class and ethnic divisions of empire highlight how deeply stratified and exploitative empires were. Elites made history; their footprints remain. Their grand houses, public monuments and literary records survived while the remnants of the poor often disappeared with time.

 

 

 

Who is the Emperor? 

Even an emperor needs legitimacy.  Chinese political theories of legitimacy well preceded the Han. The Mandate of Heaven posited that rulers were divinely appointed, but at the same time suggested that they could forfeit the position through unjust or foolish policies. The Han built on Qin models and developed more complex forms of legitimacy. Historian of the Han, Sima Qian, recorded how, shortly after becoming emperor, Han Gaozu invited his advisors to tell him why he had triumphed in the civil war: “Speak to me frankly, and dare to hide nothing. Why did I gain the empire? Why did Xiang Yu lose it?” According to Sima Qian, it appears that the emperor was more interested in telling his own perspective rather than listening: after naming three of his top aides, whom he considered more skilled than he in their fields, he says: “These three are great men, and I was able to employ them. That is why I gained the empire. Xiang Yu had only Fan Zheng and he could not use him. That is why he was slain by me.” [Pic of Lui Bang, Source: http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/core9/phalsall/images/han-fdr.jp

 

So is an emperor just someone who can delegate? Uniting the empire won Han Gaozu enormous prestige and helped legitimize his rule; the idea that the emperor should embody excellence and bestow boons on his people had been part of the Qin’s criteria for legitimacy. But there had to be more, and this is where religious ideology and the cosmic order crept it. Sima Qian reports that Gaozu’s mother had been impregnated by a dragon, the “Red God,” and this bestowed him with his extraordinary physiognomy. The Han court, at a later date, adopted the Qin’s use of the “Five Phase Theory,” which suggested that their rise to power represented the arrival a new cosmic period. A story circulated within the Han that when he rose against the Qin, Gaozu had killed a serpent, which was the son of the White God. The succession of the god of one color by another marked the turning over of a new cosmic phase. In this way the emperor was linked to something beyond mere mortal flesh. Beware, was the implication; his authority is from the heavens and not to be questioned by humans.

 

The Han emperor embodied the state. All state employees were his servants. All salaries and positions were gifts from him.  In some later Han writing he is even referred to as Guo Jia (the state).  All imperial proclamations had the force of law, and the Han legal code was, in fact, constituted in its entirety by the emperor’s decrees, instead of a formal body of accepted legal doctrine, developed by scholars, like the Graeco-Roman model.

 

The Han emperor was enshrouded in a host of rituals and rites whose origins date to much earlier times. Half of the capital, Chang’an, contained residences and palaces of the imperial family. Their tombs created a man-made mountain that loomed over the capital, and required several nearby cities to maintain them. The religious leaders organized regular sacrifices and rituals among these tombs. A multitude of rules marked off the imperial being from ordinary humans, and transgressing these rules was often punishable by death.

 

The historian Mark Edward Lewis makes the point that recent scholars have challenged the cliché of  “Oriental Despotism,” seeing in it an attempt by Europeans to belittle the participatory role of Asians in their own destiny. The emperor’s authority, argue the anti-Orientalists, was in reality limited by bureaucracy, suggesting that his power was not all-encompassing.  “However laudable the intent behind these arguments,” says Lewis,  “they are wrong.”  The formal Chinese bureaucracy had no permanent power base, and was usually trumped by the “inner court” which was made up by those close to the emperor, his friends, family and eunuchs who frequently enjoyed close ties to the emperor. “As chief administrator, high judge, and chief priest, the emperor knew no limits to his authority, except the not-inconsiderable ones imposed by his biology.”  These sometimes provided a real check to imperial authority—as Lewis points out, some emperors were simply lazy and left the business of state-craft to the professionals. That may have reduced his authority somewhat, but for those looking for concrete checks on imperial power, it does not stand for much.

 

The Roman emperor was similarly all-powerful. The English word “Empire” is derived from the Latin imperium, the power given to the Roman kings to order executions, draft citizens into armies, and collect taxes. Rome, which was a kingdom at 700 BCE, became a republic in the succeeding centuries, in which power was shared between the Senate—a collection of rich old men, and the people (known as plebians), collectively known by its acronym: SPQR (senatus populusque romanus, “the Senate and the People of Rome”).

 

This sounds like a great recipe for democracy; by evolving from a kingdom to republic, much of the power of imperium was transferred to different government agents, such as Consuls and Praetors, who wielded civic and military authority, and staffed major institutions in Rome’s administration. But as students of another (fictional) empire understand, the force can be used for good…and evil. Under the later republic, military leaders (such as Julius Caesar, and Pompeii) wielded disproportionate amounts of power, threatening the very foundation of the state, and raising the specter of a return to monarchy. Ultimately, the republic dissolved into one civil war between Caesar, Pompeii, and their followers, (40’s BCE) and another (30s BCE) between the remnants of the Senatorial elite and Caesar’s nephew and adopted son, Octavian (later renamed Augustus) who went on to become Rome’s first emperor.

 

In Augustus’ early days, he sported a signet ring with Alexander the Great’s head on it, showcasing his role-model. When he developed more confidence he replaced this with one of his own head, feeling no more need for role models.  Like the Han emperor he embodied the state, as his statues reflected,  (why the Candace of Meroe garnered so much satisfaction from burying the statue of Augustus underfoot). After his death the Roman senate declared him a god, and he was worshipped by Romans in cults throughout the empire (this practice was continued with later emperors even if occasionally ridiculed; Vespasian, feeling he was nearing the end, is said to have quipped: “I think I’m becoming a god!”)  His personal finances were almost synonymous with the state treasury; conquests and inheritance had made him so wealthy that he was able to bail out the treasury from his personal property, like the President of the United States paying off the country’s national debt from his personal bank account. A state office called Fiscus (loosely translated as Money Bag) administered both the emperor’s personal finances and the state’s.

 

Upon his death, Augustus left instructions that a kind of autobiography, or list of accomplishments (The Deeds of the Divine Augustus), be inscribed outside his tomb in Rome, and published throughout the empire. “These are the deeds performed by the deified Augustus,” it reads, “by which he subjugated the entire world to the power (imperium) of the Roman People.” The use of the term “Roman People” reveals how he saw himself as the embodiment of them, and the state itself.  “I often waged war,” he continues, “civil and foreign, on the earth and sea, in the whole wide world, and as victor I spared all the citizens who sought pardon. As for foreign nations, those which I was able to safely forgive, I preferred to preserve rather than to destroy.”

 

In a contrast to Chinese and Roman models, the Persian emperor Darius I did not claim to be a god, (to be fair, though, Augustus was only deified after death), but did allow himself the privilege of being selected by the “Great God” to rule over the earth, as recounted in the quote above.  “I am Darius, the great king, king of kings,” he proclaims, “king of countries containing all kinds of men, king on this great earth far and wide, son of Hystaspes, an Achaemenid, a Persian, son of a Persian, an Aryan, having an Aryan lineage.” Here, he makes a big deal about his ethnicity, illustrating how the Persian empire, like many, involved an ethnic hierarchy, privileging the rulers. The great majority of high officials in the Persian empire were Persians, these positions being reserved for that elite group (although there were rare exceptions).

 

 

3. Why Do Empires Exist?

In the search to explain why empires exist, you could do worse than think back to Hobbes’ ideas on gain, glory and distrust (Ch. 4). These three elements operate at both an individual and collective level to promote expansionist policies. As historian Charles Maier puts it:  “Societies in which aristocracies play major roles and have organized their collective consciousness and efforts around military activity generate, and indeed inculcate, military values and often reward aggressive behavior.” When the Persian king Cambyses, consummate warrior from a war-like aristocracy, conquered Egypt in 525 BC, what greater reward could there have been than its untold riches?

 

Rome’s military aristocracy led it in a similar direction. The origins of the transformation of Rome from Republic to Empire lie in the concentration of power in individuals, beginning notably with Julius Caesar and his military successes in Gaul. These made him extremely wealthy. He sent slaves and war treasure back home, bestowing “gifts” on the people, in effect creating an end-run around the Senate and making himself popular. Caesar was wanted in Rome to stand trial for illegal activities before he left, and for illegal actions carried out in Gaul where he was campaigning (successfully, as it turned out). But Caesar knew that to return to Rome was suicide, and made the weighty decision to return to Italy at the head of his legion, an action which was punishable by death under Roman law. When he crossed the small river known as the Rubicon (which separated Italy from Cisalpine Gaul) he became a criminal in the eyes of the senate. Fortunately for him senators were so terrified by his advance that they fled to country estates, allowing Caesar to enter Rome unchallenged. The ensuing civil wars were played out across the Mediterranean as Caesar pursued Pompeii, the leader of the senate, and his allies, for the better part of a decade, and ended when Augustus defeated Mark Anthony (Caesar’s former ally), and the remnants of the senate leadership. “I raised an army,” says Augustus in his memorial inscription, “with which I set free the state, which was oppressed by the domination of a faction.” In terms of its expansionist policies, Rome was already an empire before it had an emperor. With the waning of the republican system it added dictatorship to military expansion, and the package was complete.

 

What is the Economic Motivation for Empire?

Trade and war have always been closely related, for what cannot be bought can sometimes be taken. In commercial relations, parties (be they firms or individuals) require assurances that goods will be available at specific prices, in specific quantities. But in business as in international relations, how can an entity ensure the benign behavior of partners?  The more control one has over them, the better.  Power is the only guarantee one has that clients, friends, partners will act in accordance with your will. In other words, if you want something done properly, own the means of doing it. This is a nut-shell explanation of why empires exist: An expansionist, militaristic polity better serves the exploitative and consumptive nature of states.

 

The Mauryan empire was the first polity in India to encompass all the territory from the Arabian sea in the East to the Bay of Bengal in the west. This feat was accomplished by dogged military action, and was probably not undertaken with the explicit intent of “unifying” India. “More probably,” says historian John Keay, “its westward extension was intended to engross that lucrative maritime trade pioneered by the Harrapans in timbers, textiles, spices, gems and precious metals between the ports of India’s west coast and those of the Persian Gulf.”  In this case, the Mauryans did not necessarily want to steal all those goods—that would have made too many enemies—but simply to be in a position to trade directly with the suppliers, instead of going through numerous middle-men.

 

In Han China, as in Rome, or India, relying on “friendly princes” to remain friendly did not amount to security. Rome relied increasingly on its provinces for grain, with which it fed its impoverished subjects, and its enormous armies. Egypt was famously referred to as the “bread basket,” of Rome, Sicily also served this purpose, as did the north African colonies in today’s Tunisia and Libya. These areas eventually lost their ability to supply Rome, as they lost topsoil to erosion, and became barren desert instead of fertile bread basket. This has been highlighted as one of many reasons for Roman decline.

 

Sima Qian reports that towards the end of the first century of Han rule all economic indicators were looking promising: “The granaries in the cities and the countryside were full and the government treasuries were running over with wealth. In the capital the strings of cash had been stacked up by the hundreds of millions until the cords that bound them had rotted away and they could no longer be counted.  In the central granary of the government, new grain was heaped onto of the old until the building was full and the grain overflowed and piled up outside, where it spoiled and became unfit to eat.”

 

Indicators for Rome’s economic well-being generally rose in periods of expansion, too, and were at their height when the empire’s territorial size was greatest. Rome’s economy grew between 150 BC and 150 A.D. in large part due to the resources that flowed into the empire from its provinces, from booty from conquest, taxes from new subject populations, and from trade, which brought goods from the south and east to the north and west, along newly-opened trade routes. Slaves (free labor) added dramatically to the empire’s surplus production. In the early years of the empire, they made up an estimated 30-40% of Rome’s imperial population. Estate owners were free to squeeze all the possible labor they could out of slaves should they be so inclined, because, as Michael Mann points out, “agricultural slaves were denied membership in the human race.”

 

Is There an Evolutionary Motivation for Empires?

If one of the major drivers of imperial growth is economic exploitation, are there any others? The Historian Walter Schiedel, argues that there are Darwinian motives for empires. The struggle to increase reproductive success drives evolution. How can we measure this in historical terms? Scheidel points to the phenomenon of harems in ancient empires. The Han emperors, he says, amassed some 6000 women in imperial harems by the second century BC, and the Achaemenids routinely collected hundreds of women within their harems.  All Persian emperors had multiple wives, this was not uncommon, nor was the amassing of women from conquered territories or as tribute.  When Alexander the Great conquered Darius’ Persian empire he already had four wives, yet he appropriated Darius’ harem of 360 women. Beyond the (to modern minds) obscene need of desire-fulfillment, these harems produced a commodity much valued by the emperors: Children—the fruits of reproductive success, and the index by which one has fulfilled one’s biological purpose.

 

“In view of the constraints put on male lifetime fertility by female reproductive physiology,” says Scheidel, “reproductive self-restraint in the face of growing resources would not have made sense for the beneficiaries of imperial exploitation.”

 

Rome’s flooding with slaves from conquered territories did not only provide labor. Many scholars think it likely that female slaves were used primary for sex. As historian Laura Betzig puts it: “Slaves were kept to breed their masters’ bastards.”

 

Roman law was explicit on the fact that for a woman, sex with a slave counted as adultery. Not so for a man. Sex with slave girls (and boys) was common, as the Roman writer Plutach suggests: “If a man in private life, who is incontinent and dissolute with regard to his pleasures, commits some peccadillo with a paramour or slave girl, his wedded wife ought not to be indignant or angry, but she should reason that it is respect for her which leads him to share his debauchery, licentiousness, and wantonness with another woman.” The sexual function of female slaves may provide an answer to the mystery about what they actually did.

 

Although children from extra-marital unions were not recognized in law, they did provide a way for what Scheidel refers to as  “marginal reproductive success,” that is a spreading of genes without producing children that can inherit property. On the deepest evolutionary level, gene spreading will suffice, and the wealthier and more powerful the man, the greater his access to this reproductive resources. This benefit, therefore, accrued not only to emperors, but to all privileged males, including the hundreds of thousands of soldiers who served in imperial armies and as such had access to women of conquered provinces in large numbers.

 

4. Do Empires Survive Through Military Force Alone? (Or: What Have the Romans Ever Done For Us?)

[Graphic Source: Aqueduct in Israel. http://www.sacred-destinations.com/israel/caesarea-history.htm

The British Comedy troupe Monty Python famously satirized the idea of imperial resistance in their film The Life of Brian, in which they portray a group of Jewish freedom fighters plotting to kick the Romans out of Judea (modern-day Israel and the Palestinian Territories). Although this is a fictitious story, it refers to the Roman occupation of Judea, which began in 63 BC. The leader asks his followers: “What have the Romans ever done for us?” The answer to this rhetorical question should of course be a resounding, Nothing! But someone pipes up and mentions “the aqueduct,” (a structure for transporting water). Then another offers up the roads and another one mentions public safety, law, health, etc. When the list is finally over, the leaders admits that, yes, these are all well and good, but apart from all of that, “What have the Romans ever done for us?” A pause. Then someone says, Brought peace? [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oRzIHxZKnA] Or: A comic oratorio, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oRzIHxZKnA]

 

Peace, as it turns out was no small feat. In the process of being created, both the Roman and Han empires had been through massively destructive civil wars. In China, the death of the Qin emperor plunged them back into the turmoil of the Warring States period.  Liu Bang finally triumphed after several years of struggle, decapitated 80,000 prisoners of war and pronounced himself emperor. Rome had experienced civil wars for some fifty years before Augustus emerged as the top dog.  Both empires then began a prolonged period of internal peace. By any standards what ensued was a period of remarkable prosperity, in which almost all indicators of productivity rose. Egyptian records from the Roman era show that their farmers were getting ten pounds of wheat to every pound sown, a 10:1 ratio which was unprecedented in the ancient world.  Technological innovations also greatly increased agricultural output, in particular wind and water. To date, all energy had been produced by human muscles or biomass power.  In the first century C.E., however, both Rome and China produced the waterwheel, which they employed to power bellows, used to heat up furnaces, and to grind grain for flour. Increased production at iron foundries and on the farm meant more stuff, and improvements in ship design and building produced better, cheaper and larger ships that were able to move goods further for less, creating economic benefit in the process.  All of this amounted to a net gain of the human condition as measured by such indices as overall population growth and average mortality. Notwithstanding the massive wealth differentials in Rome and China, as archaeologist Ian Morris puts it: “Compared to earlier populations, Romans lived in a consumer paradise. Per capita consumption in what became the western provinces of the Roman Empire rose from a level near subsistence around 500 BCE to maybe 50 percent above it six or seven hundred years later.” In both Rome and China, while much poorer than today, “compared to all that had gone before, this was a golden age.”

 

To avoid perpetual revolts an empire must wield what political scientist Joseph Nye calls “Soft Power.”  This certainly includes the economic benefits of peace experienced by Romans and Han, but it also includes such attributes as appealing values and ideology, law—religious or otherwise—and culture, broadly defined. Often the ideas of justice, tolerance and law, which developed in imperial centers, extended across its breadth along with imperial expansion. The Indian work the Arthasastra combines such high ideals with legalistic proclamations. We find, for example, a section promoting freedom from sexual assault on the part of female slaves: When a man commits or helps another to commit rape with a girl or a female slave pledged to him, he shall not only forfeit the purchase-value, but also pay a certain amount of money to her and a fine of twice the amount of sulka to the government.  And later we read what is probably one of the earliest written prohibitions against non-consensual sex: “No man shall have sexual intercourse with a woman against her will.” 

 

The Arthasastra contains not only prohibitions but specific penalties and punishments which go along with certain criminal acts, such as this section dealing with marriage:

“If a woman either brings forth no live children, or has no male issue, or is barren, her husband shall wait for eight years before marrying another. If she bears only a dead child, he has to wait for ten years. If she brings forth only females, he has to wait for twelve years. Then, if he is desirous to have sons, he may marry another. . . If a husband either is of bad character, or is long gone abroad, or has become a traitor to his king, or is likely to endanger the life of his wife, or has fallen from his caste, or has lost virility, he may be abandoned by his wife.”

 

All empires involved inequality, and prejudices against gender and ethnicity are near-universal. Yet such early expressions of justice and equality, mediated through a body of law, often appealed to the ruling classes, and occasionally even benefitted the ordinary people, presenting us with a paradoxical view of imperial life.  In Rome, law was a part of society from the early republic, and the Romans created the first legal profession, employing lawyers to interpret the law on a case-by-case basis. In the early empire it was not recorded in an orderly way, but from the mid second century B.C.E. jurists appeared in Rome, advising clients, teaching students and creating legal documents.

 

For Romans, respect for law and ideas of civilized behavior were expressed in the word Humanitas, the root of the English Humanity, or Humanities in a scholarly context. Generally used to mean civilized behavior, it referred to such areas of life as education, relations with others, limits on power, and abuses thereof.  Barbarians, considered the opposite of Romans, were not thought to possess humanitas, being instead ignorant, badly behaved and possessed of poor personal hygiene.  The concept of humanitas, however, also hid the reality of ancient life, its brutality and inequality. The British rebel leader Galgacus, according to Tacitus, described the Roman empire thus: “To robbery, slaughter, plunder, they give the lying name of empire; they make a solitude and they call it peace.”  While humanitas may have been a Roman preoccupation to begin with, the spreading of imperial culture through Rome’s absorption of local elites disseminated these cultural ideas and practices beyond the Italian mainland. (Images here from Roman art, showing learning, education, the arts, etc., and Chinese of same.)

 

Just like the ancient Mediterranean world, China had developed multiple philosophical schools, through hundreds of years of civilization. The two predominant schools in the Han era were the Legalists and Confucians. The Legalist School was most influential during the warring states period, and won considerable influence with the Qin dynasty, influencing the Qin towards rigid centralizing policies, harsh punishments for legal infractions,  but meritocratic promotion through the ranks of the army and administration and also private ownership of land for peasants.  Confucius, or Kongzi, (b. 551 BCE) deplored Legalism and promoted a return to the beliefs and practices of the early Zhou, most importantly, perhaps, the importance of a religious and political elite aristocracy to perform ritual functions which would maintain the “balance” of the cosmos. Under the Han, Confucian ideas were recorded, systematized and written down as a code of conduct. The ultimately conservative values of stability promoted by Confucianism gave the empire a moral structure (within which there was considerable variation).  As historians Jane Burbank and Frank Cooper put it: “These values, like humanitas for Romans, provided a framework for elite education and ideal behavior.”

 

But China’s intellectual fervor was not limited to these two ends of the spectrum.  Notable for his secular and rationalist thinking, Xunzi, attempted to make Confucianism relevant to his times, and put forward the novel idea that natural disasters were not signs of divine displeasure with the leadership, but random acts of nature. What was important about such disasters was how the leadership responded to them, a perspective that would be at home in twenty-first century politics.

 

The Chinese were also committed to rule by law, but under different assumptions: Law was a set of rules emanating from the emperor, sidestepping the need for a separate judiciary as in Rome. But while law emanated from the emperor, it also had to be in accordance with religion. The relationship between Chinese religion and law was close and complex, going back to the time of the Zhou. The government was required to comply with religious beliefs, or the laws of Heaven and Nature. Executions, for example, could only be held in autumn and winter, the seasons of death and decay.  One story tells of an official at the time of the emperor Wu, who was tasked with executing thousands of members of powerful local families, for economic and political misdeeds.  When spring came he reportedly stamped his foot and sighed, “If only I could make the winter last one more month it would suffice for me to finish my work!”

 

Notwithstanding the often deeply exploitative stance of the imperial Han state towards its people, Sima Qian tells of instances in which the government can be seen to be working in the interests of the common people. In 120 BC floods reduced many people to starvation. The emperor ordered provincial granaries to be opened and food to be distributed. More action was needed, so he then called upon wealthy families to make loans to the victims. When this was not enough he resettled some seven hundred thousand people in New Ch’in and south of So-fang. “Food and clothing were to be supplied to them for the first few years by the district officials, who were also instructed to lend them what they needed to start a livelihood.” The expenses of the move were of “incalculable proportions.”

 

Scant evidence can be found of comparable acts of Roman largess, with the possible exception of the Bread and Circuses, which were transparently political. But the Romans nevertheless practiced a kind of economic development as they advanced through their provinces, usually as a by-product of satisfying their imperial aims. Michael Mann describes this as the “Legionnaires Economy.” The Roman army, divided into Legions, was economically productive, building infrastructure as they conquered. Provincial cities were rebuilt with Roman architecture and specific attributes, such as grid systems, sewerage and civic buildings such as the amphitheaters and coliseums.

 

Mostly built by the army, Roman roads covered, at the height of the empire, some 52,000 miles.  Likewise, a single Chinese road, the North-South highway of the Qin dynasty, finished around 210 BC, was between 700 and 900 kilometers long. The Greek historian Herodotus (484-425 BC) described the Achaemenid road system this way: “Now the true account of the road in question is the following: Royal stations exist along its whole length, and excellent caravanserais (rest stops for “caravans”); and throughout, it traverses an inhabited tract, and is free from danger.” 

 

The road described above linked Susa to Sardis, with way-stations providing food and rest at one-day intervals.  Use of these was restricted to imperial officials, and was controlled by issuing “passports” to users. If such roads primarily served the governmental and military needs of the empire they had a “trickle down” effect for residents and citizens; travel was facilitated and more goods were available; the economy in general experienced a stimulus from the new ease with which goods could move. If you have ever checked the “no-highways” box on your computer search for directions, and driven that course, you will have some appreciation of the extent to which highways improve travel.

 

4. How Do Empires Maintain Themselves? 

Central or Feudal Government?

Such infrastructure as described above enabled imperial governments to communicate more effectively with their provinces, and communication was essential in the daily tasks of running an empire. But how much control did empires wield, and what was left to local authorities? This was the basic question for empires.

 

Emperor Han Gaozu began his career by hiving off the eastern part of the old Qin empire and giving it to a collections of his relatives and warlords with whom he cut deals. This compromise was no doubt a necessary evil. He ruled the western part directly from his capital.  But Gaozu’s initial system ultimately proved unsatisfactory because the independent kings acted too…independent.  Like the Qin, later Han emperors found themselves struggling against powerful lords: “The main problem,” says Harvard historian John Fairbanks, “was how to check the reemergence of aristocratic local families with their own resources of food and fighting men.”  The later Han centralized increasingly. The emperor Han Wudi, perhaps the most influential of the Han emperors, did the most to increase the government’s revenues, in part by establishing centralized government monopolies on salt, iron, copper, bronze and alcohol. Direct rule of distant lands, however, was expensive, and at the end of his reign Han Wudi left the government struggling to pay its bills.

 

Some empires left the administrative structures of conquered states in place, using the existing elites to run them, those very elites were usually absorbed over time into the imperial elite, and thus contributed to spreading the culture and ideals of the “center.” This was Rome’s modus operandi; the local elites were over time Romanized, in other words—taught Latin, and educated like Romans of similar social standing. “After about a century of Roman dominance,” says Michael Mann, “it generally became impossible to detect local cultural survivals among elites of the western provinces.”  Lack of obvious regional ties has been a hallmark of many “elites” in large states the world over as they tend to belong to a non-regional, or pan-imperial culture. This being the case, how would there have been local resistance once the elite leadership had been co-opted? Rome’s ability to re-create its class system was at the root of its success.

 

Even if empires last for centuries, or millennia in some cases, there are often built-in flaws which eventually hit a nerve. The wealth generated by Roman conquests eventually destroyed a central feature of earlier Rome— participatory citizenship, making the naked exploitation and inherent inequality all the more apparent. There was a common saying as early as the third century B.C.E. that provincial governors required three fortunes, one to recoup electoral expenses, another to bribe the jury at his trial for mis-governance, and a third to live off. If the fostering of Roman elite culture among the local leadership prevented locals from initiating independence movements, the concentration of power and wealth among so small a class might have played a part in the eventual downfall of the empire, a topic we will address further below.

 

The Persians used governors, or Satraps throughout their empire, who were appointed by the emperor and reported to him. These were almost always drawn from a small ethnic Persian elite, and had their capitals often in the former royal capitals that had been conquered, for example the satrapal center in Egypt was in Memphis, the capital of Ancient Egypt.  The Satraps collected and stored taxes for the empire, taking what they needed for the running of their province before forwarding the rest to the capital.  There is, however, plentiful evidence that local governing structures were often left in place at the level below the satraps, and that the Persian provincial authorities used these to carry out the business of government (very limited in terms of what governments today usually do). Pheonician cities, for example, continued to be ruled by their traditional dynasts, and Jerusalem retained its sacred laws and priests and was administered largely by Jews.

 

 

What Was the Role of the Imperial Court?

When Emperor Han Gaozu died in 195 BC, he left his fifteen-year-old son on the throne.  Because of the boy’s youth, the empire was indirectly ruled by his mother, the formidable Empress Lu. When her son died in 188 BCE, she placed an infant on the throne, and when that young emperor died she replaced him with another baby. With this ruse, she managed to hold on to power until 180 BCE. Although in reality a competent leader, she was regarded by later Confucian historians as a ruthless usurper. After her death her relatives were purged from leadership and power was restored to the Liu family.

 

 

Han-era terr-cotta figures depicting eunuchs. Source: http://archaeologynewsnetwork.blogspot.com/2010/08/more-than-3000-han-dynasty-naked-terra.html

As long as an emperor was young, power devolved to whomever could make decisions for him. During the Han’s last century no adult ever reached the throne.  Even if the emperor was too young to make policy, authority still rested in him, therefore those closest to him made the decisions. These were often eunuchs, who, apart from mothers, also played a central role in Chinese court politics. Allowed into the emperor’s inner circle, originally because they were recruited to look after the imperial harem, many eunuchs became confidantes, friends and even lovers of emperors.  In the later Han there were thousands of eunuchs, becoming so powerful that they were granted the right to adopt heirs of their own. In 159 CE eunuchs helped an emperor to execute the entire family of the mother of his predecessor, thus eliminating threats to his throne.

 

Court Historian Sima Qian had first-hand knowledge of eunuchs, because after enraging the emperor (Han Wudi, 141-87 BCE) with his support of a wayard general, the emperor sentenced him to death, and then commuted his sentence to castration. He lived out the rest of his life as a eunuch, choosing not to commit suicide (the “honorable” way out) but to finish his historical masterwork, which today serves as the top primary source for the early Han dynasty.

 

 

5. Why Do Empires Collapse?

“Empires are epics of entropy,” says Charles Maier, reminding us that decline is built-in to the imperial experience:  “Ultimately the lights will go dim on the imperial stage and the curtain will descend.”

 

Thomas Cole: The Course of Empire: Desolation. Most of the ancient world’s empires were taken over by outsiders, and/or broken up into multiple small nations (as in the case of Rome’s western empire, which eventually became the nation-states of Western Europe).  Such is the strength of ideas, however, that many imperial forms, political, social and economic, continued under different people. The idea of  “collapse” itself is often taken too literally, then, and gives the impression of instantaneous cessation of existence as opposed to a process of long slow decline, or a change of leadership followed by gradual dissolution.

 

There are lots of ways, however, for empires to stop existing. Before Rome becomes a world-power, Alexander defeats Darius III in 333 BCE at the battle of Issos. Within two years he has taken all the Persian centers. The Achaemenids are history. That such a vast empire can be brought to its knees in so short a time seems surprising. But in 330 BCE, the Persian empire is in political trouble. Battles over succession battles have weakened the imperial court, provincial rebellions, notably in Egypt, have weakened the economy and reduced the income tax, satraps are increasingly likely to make bids for independence. When Alexander arrives, with new military strategies and veteran troops, he meets a fatigued imperial power.

 

Rome, by the time it “falls” is in poor shape also. In 410 the Visigothic king Alaric is able to “sack” it, riding roughshod over its cobbled streets.  This is, no doubt, crushing for those in Rome, but by this time the empire has already split in two: the eastern part is now ruled from Byzantium (today’s Istanbul), while the west from Rome.  Alaric’s victory is often seen as a symptom of Rome’s internal collapse, and for this there are multiple reasons, such as the profligacy of Rome’s government, the incompetence—and assassinations—of its emperors, the over-extension of its military, and the influx into the empire of non-Roman people.  All of the above cause an historic moan, heard around the imperial domain. As historians Burbank and Cooper say, “The imperial project based on conquest and the projection of a single civilization over the Mediterranean and its hinterland fell on many swords.”  The rise of Christianity, which appears about the same time as Augustus, re-orients Romans away from the focus on the earthly city, to the “City of God,” and this too plays a part in undermining the empire.

 

After a rebellion in 9 CE under Wang Mang, in which a new dynasty (Xin) holds power briefly, a Later, or Eastern, Han dynasty (25-220 CE) re-emerges with its capital at Luoyang.  But after another two hundred years, its reaches the end of its life-cycle. Turmoil at the Han court weakens the government, and allows provincial and military leaders to ignore the imperial capital and the dues they owe. Barbarians, in the form of nomads in the north and west, in particular the Xiongnu, threaten imperial territory, as they have always. The Han has paid them off for years, to prevent them attacking border towns. It is fruitless to chase them into the steppe territory from where they emerge: the imperial advantage of huge numbers and concentrated infantry is lost in such a vast featureless landscape where the enemy melts away.

 

The later Han initiate a disastrous policy of ending peasant conscription. Instead they rely on mercenaries and nomads from outside the empire who they resettle in walled frontier towns. In the long run this policy turns against them and creates disloyal units with their own tribal allegiances. In 184 a rebellion brakes out amongst the followers of a Daoist cult known as the Yellow Turbans. This spreads widely, and the country spirals into civil war, with regional leaders declaring their independence. The Han empire officially comes to an end in 220 C.E., splitting into three rival kingdoms.

 

Over and above (or perhaps below?) these proximate causes of decline, there loomed larger more menacing issues. In particular, both empires were affected by our old friend climate change, which, over the hundreds of years of imperial life cycles, was active once more.  Much of the highpoint of the Roman and Han empires took place during what scientists call the Roman Warm Period.  This made several geographic regions more productive agriculturally, such as England, France and parts of Eastern Europe, as well as Korea, Manchuria and parts of Central Asia. Rome’s command of maritime trade in the Mediterranean made it easy for it to exploit the gains to be made by such warming, by shipping goods where they were needed. The same was true, if to a lesser extent, in China, which used the rivers as trade corridors.

 

But one consequence of this increase in trade and the mixing of peoples from different regions by trade, war, enslavement or otherwise, was the exchange of microbes. Diseases first encountered when the first farmers cohabited with domesticated animals, found new populations with little or no immunity to them, just as would happen hundreds of years later when Europeans took their diseases to the Americas. People exposed to such germs for the first time had no defenses.  Increased traffic between core settlement areas in around the second century CE exposed millions of people to these unfamiliar germs.

 

In 165 CE Roman soldiers in Syria suffered an unknown pestilence.  A few years earlier, Chinese troops fighting nomads succumbed to something similar, loosing a third of their number.  In the following decades outbreaks of deadly disease struck repeatedly in China and the Roman provinces, one such killing a third of the Egyptian population.  Few records tell of similar events in India, and it is therefore possible that the germs passed north of the peninsular, following the Silk Road routes into Asia.  In the middle of the second century, for several years, some five thousand people were reported to die every day in Rome itself. And in China, several decades later diseases similar to smallpox or measles showed up with deadly consequences, especially in the northwest.

 

Ancient Roman Ruins, Aphamia, Syria. Source: http://www.theodora.com/wfb/photos/syria/syria_photos_6.html

Then the weather got colder again. All climatological sources point to a drop of several degrees between 200 and 500 CE. Rainfall fell off, monsoons lost their strength. With the advent of the Roman warm period, the empires in their younger days had responded with innovation, but this time around, hampered by major diseases, innovation was not so easy to come by. With ecological factors combining (sometimes causing) political and economic challenges, the cycle of empire took a distinct downward turn.

 

Rome and China had many things in common over the course of their empires. One major point of divergence, however, is that Rome, once down, did not get up again.  While the Han collapsed under similar pressures, and China suffered a terrible setback in terms of its standard of living, successive dynasties ultimately reassembled China, and two thousand years later its political integrity remains in tact.

 

Conclusion.

Empires might decline and fall, but they seldom disappear without a trace. The legacy of Rome has been discussed endlessly in classrooms and lecture halls for generations, and Roman cultural and political forms have been copied repeatedly. One reason for this is the habit of invading barbarians to absorb the culture of the people they invade. Such “Barbarians,” often portrayed as uncultured and bent on destruction, are often quick studies, and interested in furthering legacies. Not so Barbarian after-all, it turns out, but just unfairly stigmatized by imperial historians, these inheritors of empire usually pass along the “goodies” of empire because as it turns out, good ideas are not just good ideas for Romans or Han or Persians. They are good for most people and as such eagerly exploited.

 

Rome’s legacy lives on in multitudes of ways, forms that can be seen in language and architecture all over the world, up until the present.  From the Russian “Tsars” whose title derives from the Latin word “Caesar,” to the “emperor” Napoleon, the British Empress of India (Victoria), and the emperor Bokassa (of the Central African Republic), the ideas and aspirations of ancient empires live on, even if their political viability is limited.  Ultimately the great empires were unsustainable. Such massive aggregations of power and wealth are subject to so much internal and external pressure, that break up was all but inevitable. Even if they survived for hundreds of years, in one shape or another (which is more, so far, than our present political form, the nation state), empires and the states which spawn them still only represent a tiny fraction of human history.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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War! What is it Good For?

 

War: What is it Good For? (Absolutely Nothing?)

 

 

 

 

 

The Jet Li Movie “Hero,” set in the China of the Warring States Period (403-221BC), is loosely based on the story of Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of the Qin dynasty. Wary of assassins, the king allows no one closer than  100 paces from his throne. A stranger called Nameless arrives at the capital claiming to have killed three assassins the King most fears. He tells the king how he killed the first assassin, Long Sky, then used the love that the other two, Broken Sword and Flying Snow, had for each other to destroy them as well. When Nameless has finished his story, the king tells one of his own, in which he perceptively suggests that there were four conspirators, and that Nameless was in league with the other three to achieve his goal of killing the king.

 

The king goes on to share his vision of a united China with Nameless, a China that would finally be at peace for the first time in history, a peace that could be achieved only through war. Ultimately, Nameless accepts the king’s vision, and is executed by the king’s army, an example to would-be assassins, and a sacrifice for the betterment of China. For this he is given a hero’s funeral. The King of Qin, upon who the story is based, Shi Huangdi, went on to become the first emperor of unified China, giving the name Qin, or Ch’in (“China”) to the new state.

 

Were there such visionary leaders in the ancient world? Not Shi Huangdi, who was castigated by later historians as a cruel dictator and megalomaniac. But the movie does nonetheless raise questions about the purpose of war and the growth of states, such as, is such growth possible without war? Can there be such a thing as a “war to end all wars?”

 

 

Introduction 

[Images: Skull from 2500 BC Denmark with embedded spear point (national museum, Copenhagen) in Philip De Souza: The Ancient World at War, P. 15;  Neolithic cave painting of archers from Algeria: Da Souza P. 14 (pierre colombe/corbis;) Marine Battle of Ramses III against the Sea People,  da souza p. 44 (After Champollion, Monuments de l’Egypte 1835.).

 

War is father of all, king of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some slaves some free. Heraclitus (c. 535-475 BC)

 

Like later history, that of the earliest civilizations is drenched in blood. If we were to look at history unvarnished, it should come with a warning: killing, rape, genocide and slavery have been central to the human experience for much of the past 5000 years and possibly much, much longer. Why? In what follows we will explore what motivates humans to violence and war, and what wars have been fought over—both profound causes and what historians often refer to as “proximate” causes, and in so doing try to get an idea of what role war plays in human society.

 

War touched the lives of perhaps millions of people in the ancient world. Although of little solace for those who lived through it, from the destruction of war often emerged new relationships, new political entities, technological, scientific, social and political innovations. Driven by the needs of defense and aggression, these innovations appeared much in the same way that today’s military drives innovations—GPS and the Internet being two prime examples—and in the same way that we now have global political and financial institutions formed largely in the wake of two catastrophic world wars in the twentieth century. But in all likelihood, these are unintended consequences, not motivations for war. But apart from such spin-offs, does war drive a process of growth from smaller to larger political entities or polities, just like the vision of Shi Huangdi, in the end leading to peace? And is this process visible in the ancient world? Is it true that, as Charles Tilly suggests in discussing Europe, that war made the state, and the state made war? And was this state-making a conscious project of leaders, or yet another unintended consequence of their greed for war spoils and territory?

 

China’s first “unification” came under the Qin, but unification is a relative term, and should never be considered total, permanent or complete. Mesopotamia, at 3500 BC was a collection of small city-states, well defended by walls such as at Uruk. But one thousand years later, the Land Between the Rivers was largely consolidated under the Akkadian Empire, ruled over by a very martial royal family from the city of Akkad. Successions of kings, powerful city-states and empires came and went in the subsequent millennia, among them the Kassites, the Babylonians and the Assyrians, and while there were periods of peace and stability, some of them quite long, this period in history is rich with martial detail, as ruler deposed ruler in gory succession struggles and expansionist campaigns. Ancient Egypt shared with China a large and long-lasting state, but one that was borne from war, as many chiefdoms and kingdoms were brought to heel and incorporated into the larger Egyptian polity. Once unified, Egyptian warfare was mostly focused on its neighbors. In all of these areas a move from small political units, to larger, more unified ones, is evident, even if this process was halting.

 

We will discuss the Greeks who show up for the first time here, looking at three distinct phases of Greek history, all of which feature warring city states, and expansionist political entities, culminating with the success of Philip of Macedonia and his son, who would become Alexander the Great, who carried out an expansionist campaign that only lasted a few years but brought Greek, or Hellenistic culture to North Africa, and large swathes of south west Asia.

 

We will also take a look at India after Harappa, and see what role war and peace played in the Mauryan Empire (321-185 BC) on the Eastern side of the continent, and ask whether warfare had similar functions in state-building, or whether India bucked the trend and promoted peace.  In the New World, Mesoamerica’s earliest complex society, the Olmecs, practiced ritualized warfare, frequently battling neighbors for supplies of sacrificial victims. And we look at the earliest complex societies of South America, on the Peruvian coast and find familiar signs of hierarchical societies using organized violence to get a head, (quite literally).

 

Just as feminist scholars have attempted, largely in vain, to find fully matriarchal societies, others have searched for pacifist societies, hoping to prove perhaps that war is not a natural part of human society. The few societies that have been put forward as “peaceful” are only such in specific historical periods, and under certain conditions. There are some tribes which, pushed from their ancestral lands and largely depleted of population, are in no fit state for military operations. Other peoples, like the Swedes, are peaceful now, but only a couple of centuries ago were heavily militarized, and before providing the world with safe cars, they gave us the dreaded Vikings.

 

Before we consider the specifics however, we will look at the origins of war; did it begin with civilization, or in the prehistoric human past? Looking at data from archaeology and ethnology we consider the argument that violence was endemic in the earliest human societies.  With developments within the fields of primatology, evolutionary biology, psychology and genetics, we are now able to put flesh on the bones of archaeological evidence and make more confident assertions about prehistory, to suggest that violence might have had an adaptive benefit to the very earliest humans, allowing them to prosper in the brutal struggle for survival.

 

While one wants to answer the question what is war good for? with a loud “Nothing!” we should think on Heraclitus’ assertion, for it is possible that war was the forge which shaped much of human society, and even when it was not directly responsible for creating ever-larger, more complex societies, many were built in response to the threat of war. Perhaps indicative of this is Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War.” Written in the sixth century BC, it is the product of a long history of war in China, and distills generations of experience in warfare, illustrating how prevalent and important war was to the state.  As that text makes clear, warfare became deeply institutionalized during the river valley civilizations, and continued in those that followed, not only in China, but everywhere else in the world. “The art of war is of vital importance to the state,” says Sun Tzu. “It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.”  These words could have been written yesterday.

 

 

I. What is the Origin of War?

 

Did war have a beginning? If it did, and we can trace its “invention” back to a historical point, does that mean it is an aberration, and can be eradicated, like a disease? But if we can find no “start” date for war, does that mean that our species was “born” warlike? And if war is innate, does that mean we are destined to always fight?

 

What is War?

In order to begin thinking this one through we should define our terms. Like many words, “War” is enormously elastic, with widely differing connotations. Lets look at some of the basics.  Today we tend to think of war as a highly organized military enterprise waged between two nation-states. The World Wars of the twentieth century were fought between well-defined nation-states. In ancient times Mesopotamian city-states, for example, which were well-defined political entities, fought each other for “supremacy,” meaning booty, land, and power. Chinese kingdoms, or dynasties, fought for millennia, using war to expand their influence.

 

Carl Von Clausewitz, a nineteenth century German military theorist, famously referred to war as “the continuation of policy by other means,” suggesting that war was motivated by politics, initiated by failed negotiations and limited to state participants.  And this theory has found considerable support, even today. The military historian John Keegan offers a useful description of this “political-rationalist” definition of war in his book The History of Warfare. This definition characterizes war as a state-level activity in which there are pitched battles, skirmishes, sieges, easily-identifiable sides, clear goals and even rules. But such a definition is inadequate when dealing with “primitive” or pre-state warfare. Was there war before states, in prehistory, and if so, what did it look like?

 

Were Pre-historic Humans Peaceful?

The seventeenth-century English philosopher Thomas Hobbes believed that pre-historic humans were at the mercy of their instincts.  Living in a world of finite resources, he said, violent conflict was inevitable for them: “And therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.”

 

Hobbes’ larger idea, explored in his famous work “Leviathon”  (1651), was that our nature is such that we need order imposed from above. Imagine perhaps the leader of a band of cavemen, slapping around two junior members who are fighting. The junior cave men are unable to control themselves, so must be helped to do so by a higher power. Members of a society, in other words, must accept a “social contract” to allow the state absolute power in return for security. This security would be guaranteed by the state’s monopoly on physical force. Hobbes, writing during the English Civil War of the seventeenth century, was doubtless heavily influenced by the experiences of his historical period, but his critique remains one of the most significant tracts of political philosophy ever written. Hold the image of Hobbes’ rowdy cavemen for a moment while we give you another possibility.

 

In the eighteenth century the French Philosopher Jean-Jacque Rousseau challenged Hobbes’ view of our nature with his concept of the “Noble Savage” (Discourse on the Origins and Foundations of Inequality Among Mankind, 1755).  Humans, he believed had lived harmoniously with nature and each other for most of their history. Here you can picture beautiful people, scantily clad in a dreamy desert island setting. Peace and Love abound. Food is plentiful and free. But with the advent of agriculture, Rousseau said, and the resultant population growth and rise in inequality, tensions appeared in this utopian vision; war arrived as part of the package of civilization. Attempting to prove this thesis, Rousseau paid attention to the reports of primitive people that Europeans were encountering in their voyages of exploration in the eighteenth century. He liked what he saw in Tahiti. French expeditions reported discovering peaceful natives, half-naked, living in an egalitarian utopia. Aha! Rousseau ran with these reports, but paid little attention to the parts where they described the less savory habits of Tahitian life, such as the practice in which a warrior would  “pound his vanquished foe’s corpse flat with his heavy war club, cut a slit through his victim and don him as a trophy poncho.”

 

 

What is the Evidence for “Primitive War?”

Archaeologists today are often accused of overlooking evidence of pre-historic violence.  But increasing evidence is showing up.  In the caves at Peche Merle and Cougnac in southern France, among more common paintings of animals, ice age humans also depicted what many archaeologists consider to be murder.  In one painting a man is shown standing with seven spears penetrating him. At Cosquer Cave on the Mediterranean coast there is an engraving, which has come to be known as the “Killed Man” from 18,500 years ago.  It shows a body lying prone with its legs and arms in the air and a deeply engraved line running through its back and up through the skull, possibly a spear or harpoon. Whether this portrayed a real event or not, we don’t know. But if killing was in the human imagination, is it conceivable that it was not happening in reality?

 

There is considerable evidence—beyond paintings—that it was. In England researchers have found settlements from around 4000 BC with extensive perimeter walls. Did the walls symbolize the inhabitants’ concepts of inclusivity/exclusivity, as some scholars have claimed? Or are they more simply defensive measures against hostile “others?” Human bones inside the encampment, and piles of arrowheads around the gates, suggest the latter. In one case a man’s skeleton was found with an arrowhead lodged in his back. In his arms was an infant who had been crushed to death as he fell.

 

Several sites in Western and Central Europe reveal similar activity. But the evidence is by no means limited to Europe. At Wadi Kabbaniya near the Egyptian-Sudanese border, Fred Wendorf, then of Southern Methodist University, discovered the body of a young man buried around 20,000 years ago, with three wounds; a broken left arm (possibly from warding off a blow), a partly-healed wound from a spear tip in the same upper arm, and two spear points in his pelvis. Wendorf thinks that skirmishes over watering holes in that area were frequent, and this individual had experienced several. “The last one,” he thinks, “got him.”

 

Further archaeological evidence points not just to killing on an individual level—more suggestive of murder rather than war—but killing in groups as well. Cemetery 117, as it’s known to archaeologists, is in Gebel Sahaba, in Egyptian Nubia. Here Wendorf discovered 59 human bodies, of men, women and children. Forty percent of the adults he found had stone projectiles in them. One woman had 29 stone arrow tips in her, and one man had 19 separate wounds, possibly suggesting a ritual killing. Others had multiple arrowheads in chest and back, some were shot through the lower jaw or skull, as if at short range, while they were on their backs. The children were mostly executed at short range by arrow shots to the head or neck. This happened 12-14 thousand years ago, about the same time that the Natufians were building the first villages in the Fertile Crescent.

 

Rock paintings in Arnhem Land, in Northern Australia, show groups of men battling with spears, with boomerangs flying overhead (the ancient equivalent of the pilot-less drone?).  And in the Americas archaeologists found 850 year-old remains of human muscle protein on pot shards, and human remains in a piece of fossilized human excrement. As Lawrence Keeley puts it: “The Prehistoric New World was also a place where the dogs of war were seldom on a leash.”

 

Killing, then, and possibly war of some form, was likely familiar to pre-historic humans, and we can say with some confidence that as far as the evidence goes back, there was probably human-on-human violence.

 

What is the Evolutionary Background of War? 

Beyond archaeology, evolutionary biology and psychology allow us to peer into our species’ past, and ethnology lets us draw conclusions about how humans lived in pre-history. Many evolutionary psychologists now think that humans have always practiced violence against each other. As Steven Pinker of Harvard University puts it: “Any genetic group that has made it into the present probably had pugnacious ancestors in the not-too-distant past.”  If the people of dreamy Tahiti routinely wore each other’s corpses as ponchos, what hope did the rest of us have?

 

But why should violence be a precondition to survival? Put simply, human survival over these many millennia was always in question; we were up against severe changes in climate, predation from wild beasts, plagues and famines. It is no wonder that none of the other “ape men” that had evolved alongside us made it in the long run. But we did, illustrating why evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins has referred to humans “survival machines.” Part of this survival meant becoming more dangerous than the giant beasts which liked to eat us, and this process may have inadvertently created a new monster, Man, against whom we had to protect ourselves. The way that natural selection works, it is no surprise therefore that a capacity for violence became a trait which gave tough guys the edge in the game of survival. As philosopher David Livingston Smith puts it: “These groups flourished while the pacifists withered on the evolutionary vine.”

 

Hobbes believed that all conflict boiled down to three causes: Gain (Competition), Diffidence (here read “distrust”) and Glory (i.e. reputation). Competition—at least between men—in our early history was often over women.  Men have, in evolutionary terms, always competed for women: “This explains,” says Steven Pinker “why men are the violent gender, and also why they always have something to fight over, even when their survival needs have been met.” Clearly competition also exists over material possessions, beginning, in the human species, with food resources.  Secondly, what Hobbes called “disdain,” is really the distrust of others.  Possession itself is cause for both defense and aggression; if you know that your neighbor covets your possessions your best defense may just be offense. And your neighbor might be thinking the same thing. The need to strike pre-emptively to protect your assets has come to be known as the “Hobbesian Trap,” and it finds expression in struggles between ancient Greek City states of the fifth century BC, or urban centers in Mesopotamia of 3000 BC as much as in the nuclear age. Soviet nuclear arms proliferation drove U.S. nuclear proliferation and vice-versa for a quarter century, in a spiraling arms race, which likely had its origins in a part of the human brain, which for millions of years has wondered, “should I destroy him before he destroys me?”   Finally, Hobbes talked about “Glory,” which is a common theme in war throughout the ages. Translating this into “reputation” or “honor” makes its appeal more obvious.  Hobbes said that men fight over “a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue.” But such a notion is more than just a vague concern for reputation, it carries more evolutionary baggage than would fit in an overhead compartment.  In a hostile world, individuals had to express their willingness to inflict violence on anyone who would encroach upon their territory, or benefit at their expense.  Having people know that you were not be trifled with, therefore, made it less likely that you would be. As Steven Pinker puts in typically high-brow style: “In the words of the Jim Croce song: ‘you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don’t mess around with Jim.’”

 

 

 

But what did early war look like? The standing armies that we are familiar with did not appear on the historical horizon until the river valley civilizations were well established.  Nomadic tribes and settled hunter-gatherers today still practice several distinct forms of violent warfare, which likely resemble early warfare closely.  One form is more “ritualistic” as it looks somewhat like a pitched battle, but few people get hurt. The Dani highlanders of New Guinea have been doing this for centuries if not millennia [photo of Dani battle in Keeley, P. 70—also in Gat P?]. Here, male members of two different communities will meet in an open area. Often much of the battle involves hurling verbal insults at each other, sometimes even ending in hilarity. Exchange of arrows and spears will likely also take place but at their maximum effective range, and casualties are low, sometimes nil (the stakes have been raised in recent decades, however, with the introduction of guns to the traditional arsenal of spears and arrows).  Graphic source: http://www.d.umn.edu/cla/faculty/troufs/anth1604/video/Dead_Birds.html

 

The other main form of warfare is much more damaging, involving swift and deadly raids on enemy communities. With the element of surprise, and with overwhelming numbers, there is little risk for the attackers. One technique favored by widely different groups including the Bering Straits Eskimos and the Mae Enga of New Guinea involves surrounding huts at dawn and thrusting spears through the thin walls, pouring arrows into the doorway and shooting people as they run out. Raids give way to larger enemy actions, what Lawrence Keeley refers to as “massacres,” the aim of which is total annihilation of the enemy, men, women and children. The subarctic tribe of Kutchin Eskimos habitually attempted to destroy the Mackenzie Eskimos, killing all members of an encampment but one, the “survivor,” who would be left to tell the tale. Something akin to this could have taken place at Cemetery 117 in Gebel Sahaba.

 

So far, so bad, it seems. But in looking honestly at our likely evolutionary background of violence we cannot but notice that we have come a long way. While there is no evidence that chimps, wolves, or any other animals show remorse for having killed, history attests that killing is, for us, no light matter. In fact men have had to be persuaded, and in many cases forced to kill in battle. There are strong taboos against killing, in almost all cultures, and this is largely understood to be because violence, while something we inherited from our ancestors as a useful tool, is nevertheless a tool of last resort, for the simple reason that it is dangerous. Going up against one of your own species supposes an equal match, and it does not take much to be injured, possibly fatally, or killed outright. These taboos very likely also exist because it can’t be good for the species as a whole to have them murdering each other. Killing should only be undertaken when absolutely necessary, and when the chances of success are high. If the chimps figured this out, so did Sun Tzu: “If fighting is sure to result in victory then you must fight…if fighting will not result in victory, then you must not fight, even if it is a ruler’s bidding.”

 

Many historians have noted the reluctance of warriors to kill. Niall Ferguson, for instance, has written that the First World War would have been inconceivable without alcohol because the soldiers could never have committed such atrocities sober. Getting high or drunk is an ancient wartime practice, from the Vietnam War to Ancient India, as the brain needs to be chemically altered to overcome natural inhibitions. There are other ways of overcoming these, and all have been practiced throughout history. One is propaganda, which broadcasts the “justice” of the cause for which you are fighting, and might well portray your enemy as evil, bent on your destruction, or, as was famously the case with the Jews in Nazi Germany, inhuman. Kooks, Japs, Rag Heads, Camel Jockeys, the list of epithets for perceived enemies is endless and gives away a very human reluctance to kill other….humans, so you give them names that de-humanize them.

 

 

II. How Did War Change with “Civilization?”

In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy’s country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good. So, too, it is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or company entire than to destroy them. (Sun Tzu, The Art of War III. 1.)

 

So the evidence suggests that primitive people practiced forms of warfare, in ancient times and today. It also suggests that this kind of behavior went far back into prehistory, and played a part in our evolution.  But what happened when we became “civilized?” Based on the historical record it seems reasonable to assume that most city states around the ancient world paid little heed to this particular piece of advice from Sun Tzu (above); conquering one’s enemies was often done old-school, besieging them in their citadels, massacring their men, raping their women and then either enslaving them and their children or butchering them. War, with the advent of civilization, whether Chinese or Olmec, became a major preoccupation, taking up vast reserves of “blood and treasure” to the extent that many states built their economies around the constant need for defense, and the demands of keeping soldiers in the field. It also made war deadlier.  “In earliest pre-history,” says David Livingston-Smith, “the sparseness of human population put a natural brake on the scope of our ancestors destructiveness. But when agriculture made large concentrations of people possible, and urban centers began to turn nomadic tribesmen into sedentary tillers of the soil, the deadliness of war increased proportionately.” To illustrate this Livingston Smith cites the Greek historian Herodotus, who recorded that the Greeks killed 200,000 Persians on a single summer day in 479 BC at the battle of Plataea. Twenty years later, in China, the Qin dynasty slaughtered quarter of a million combined forces of Han and Wei.

 

In addition to scale, motivations for war also changed somewhat with the rise of cities and states; instead of struggles over hunting ranges, conflict ensued over productive agricultural land; slaves were taken as booty, because there was work to be done, and apart from some domesticated animals, humans were the only energy source available. Cities also accumulated products and goods, either stored food or valuable items such as precious stones such as gold, silver or jade, and other manufactured goods.

 

But many scholars now think that although warfare seemed to get a boost from civilization, mortality actually dropped, perhaps supporting Hobbes’ idea that the state, or Leviathon, would prevent us from killing each other.  This is probably because whereas state warfare could often be massively destructive, it was balanced by long periods of internal peace, with violence only projected outside the polity. This was notably the case with ancient Egypt, as we will discuss below, where after the country had been unified under one ruler it was relatively peaceful within its boundaries if not without.

 

War in the Near East

Civilization was born in the near east around the 4th millennium BC. In Mesopotamia the world’s first work crews were assembled to meet the challenges of irrigation and public works, as we discussed in the last chapter. But organization of men and record keeping are two essential ingredients of any effective military, as Sun Tzu would attest. It is therefore no surprise that the shape of the earliest “armies” was related to that of work crews in this region, as historian Nigel Tallis puts it: “In the ancient world, even more so than today, the nature and structure of army, society, economy and state were directly related and interdependent.”

 

And the armies were put to use.  Near Eastern ancient history is a particularly dizzying succession of kings and dynasties. We should look at this warmongering in perspective, though; although we have many records of wars, for example, from Mesopotamia, these cover several thousand years. As the historian Benjamin Foster puts it: “King Hammurabi of Babylon was remoter in time from King Assurbanipul of Assyria, than William the Conqueror from Eisenhower.” Mesopotamian ancient history was, in other words, long. It is conceivable that there were fairly long periods of peace, scattered amongst outbursts of war.

 

Were Cities Defensive Structures?

With the rise of cities we begin to see the first “organized” or civilized warfare, in which political leaders were often military leaders as well, and could conjure up large numbers of armed men, some professional soldiers, and some lowly conscripts. City states, whether in Mesopotamia, Greece, or the New World, always appeared in clusters (over one thousand in ancient Greece, 30-odd in Mesopotamia and several dozen in the Valley of Mexico), and they always appeared in the absence of a larger, territorial state, in fact perhaps because of the absence of such. This clustering suggests a need for defense, probably against each other.

 

To some extent city-state warfare can be seen as an extension of a pre-historic “habit” of warfare, an extension of our natural fear of strangers.  As Robin Wright puts it: “If two nearby societies are in contact for any length of time, they will either trade or fight.”   Both of these activities were entered into with gusto.  Natural resources provided one motivation for both warfare and trade. Sumerians needed timber and metal ore, neither of which was available locally, and conflict over trade routes was common. Cities also clashed over the waterways and access to productive land.  Conflict was likely also common between sedentary city-dwellers and nomadic or semi nomadic peoples in the region. This is a common feature of societies at this period, globally: Sedentary settlements, towns and cities, stockpiled goods of all sorts, and nomadic peoples, who specialized in herding livestock, were often good on horseback and were adept at the lightening raid to help themselves to the benefits of civilized societies.

 

As we learned in chapter three, unlike our society, most inhabitants of early cities were food producers. If this seems counter-intuitive, it is. Until you begin to perceive the security picture.  Archaic references to the Mesopotamian city of Uruk refer to it as “Uruk-the sheep-enclosure,” suggesting that the city might have begun as a place of safety where shepherds and goatherds could protect their charges from marauding bands, on the look out for livestock.  Protection was written into the DNA, you might say, of ancient towns and cities. “Centralized ceremonial/cultic/civic centers, marketplaces and artisan workshops,” says historian Azar Gat, “would mean little in the development of city-states were it not for the imperatives of defense.” The reason that people endured the overcrowding, disease, and inconvenience of a city was the threat posed from other cities, sometimes only kilometers away. Putting it bluntly, Gat makes the point that: “City states were the product of war.”

 

But did this kind of gathering together really protect from war? Prehistoric warfare was not as advanced as that which brought down Ur and later Sumerian cities. Tribes have historically “raided” each other in pursuit of booty. Raiding was effective when your target group was small; you could swoop in unannounced, grab and run. If you had numerical advantage there was less likelihood of physical harm being done to you. But when settlements became larger villages, this threw a wrench in the plan.  You needed larger raiding parties to achieve a numerical advantage, and grab-and-run was no longer an option; instead you would be fighting house to house, each dwelling being a potential stronghold.  A small settlement could be eliminated overnight by a handful of raiders. Not so a town. As populations grew, so did armies; eventually walls went up, and the ante was raised considerably in the scale and scope of warfare.

 

What Was the Nature of War Among the Earliest Greek City States?

City states, although originating in Mesopotamia are often most associated with ancient Greece. Civilization in Greece starts with Crete in about 3000BC. Minoan culture, as it is known, was centered around Knossos, where bronze age remains have been found including a large number of double-edged daggers in communal tombs. The importance of the double edge on these weapons is that they are considered much more likely to be weapons rather than tools; the extra edge makes it hazardous for more innocent uses such as whittling wood or preparing food. Complex palace structures at Knossos suggest a hierarchical kingdom which peaked at about 1600 BC.

 

But by 1450 BC Knossos was in the hands of Greeks from Mycenae, a mainland city state, whether by force or by default is not completely clear, and it is the Mycenaeans who expanded the Greek world, through trade and conquest. Their military adventures in Asia Minor probably provided the background for Homer’s epic poem, The Iliad, which tells the story of the Greek coalition of city-states besieging the city of Troy. In this poem, the Mycenaeans are cast as the leaders of the anti-Troy coalition. The rich archaeological record from the Mycenaean period suggests a society of full-time military specialists.  Graves reveal armories of weapons, and skeletons with multiple wounds, many healed, suggesting men who had long fighting careers. One forensic scientist reconstructing the faces of these warriors for a documentary, referred to them as a “group of thugs,” which fits nicely into our theory that evolution favored the tough guys.

Fresco from the palace at Pylos (de souza P. 98)

 

But clearly there is more to their civilization than this. They recorded much of the economic and administrative details of their lives in what archaeologists call the Linear B text, an early form of Greek, and left behind many elaborately decorated vases, engravings and seals (although much of the subject matter was warfare!).  At Mycenae and nearby Tirnys, archaeological remains speak of the prevalence of war. Not just the presences of massive defensive walls, the setting of gates at an angle to the main walls thereby exposing their enemies to fire from the walls. Rear gates provided escape routes, and the town layouts incorporated springs for access to water in times of siege. But warfare in this period might not have yet been that of John Keegan’s definition. For the Mycenaeans it was probably relatively small-scale, involving raids, and if we are to believe Homer, individual combat between elite, aristocratic warriors, and victory involved booty including livestock and women.

 

 

C16th BC engraving from Mycenae showing chariot driver riding down a warrior on foot. The foot soldier is carrying a possibly double-edged sword.  National Museum, Athens.

 

In book 18 of the Iliad, Homer described the shield of perhaps the Greeks’ most prized warrior, Achilles.  Designed by the God-slash-metal smith, Hephaestus, it depicted scenes of two cities, one at war, and one at peace.  Homer’s description of the shield shows two painfully contrasting realities, one what the warriors had left behind—wives, children, parents, and harmony, such as they will likely never see again—and the other a city at war. As the historian Lawrence Trittle says, “Achilles’ shield reveals that the early Greeks knew war all too well and saw peace as an elusive good.”

 

Detail of A Reconstruction of Achilles Shield  (http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Mythology/AchillesShield.html)

 

Notwithstanding their credentials as tough dudes, the demise of the Mycenaeans was surprisingly rapid, between about 1250 and 1050 BC. Explanations for this include everything from drought to civil war. But one points the finger at the Land and Sea People, a collection of disparate peoples from around the Mediterranean, possibly even including dislocated Minoans and Myceneans, among others. They raided along the Mediterranean coast, overthrew the Hittite empire of Anatolia (which reached its height around 1400 BC), and were eventually defeated by Ramses III of Egypt in 1174 BC.

 

Ramses III defeating the Sea People in 1174 BC. Source: After Champollion, Monuments de L’Egypt….1835

 

 

[Timeline of Greek History de Souza P. 101)]

 

Scholars divide “ancient” Greek history into three main phases, the Minoan/Mycenaean (3000-1100 BC), Archaic (700-480 BC), and Classical (480-338). After the collapse of Mycenae, Greece entered a “dark age” reverting to some extent to “pre-civilized” state, of small, scattered villages, and little in the way of written, or archaeological records. By the eighth century BC we see the emergeance of small towns and the first writing for several hundred years. Settlements grew in this era until the form of the Greek city state (or Polis, Greek for city) which was to dominate the classic era emerged. Multiple city states vied for control throughout the archaic period, culminating in Sparta’s emergence as a regional power by the 7th century BC, and spent much of its time defending itself from the Kingdom of Lydia, and its successors, the Persian empire based in Iran. Struggles against the Persians continued for many years, until the Greeks, led by the city state of Athens, decicively defeated the Persian armies of Xerxes at the battle of Plataea (479 BC).

 

 

 

But by about 400 BC, any unity that had been generated by external threats had dissipated, and the cities were at it

 

again. Eventually there were two primary rivals in Greece, Athens and Sparta. Conflict between them erupted in the Peloponnesian Wars (461-446 BC and 431- 404 BC). Sparta eventually gained Persian support (it is not uncommon for enemies to become allies, if the interests align!) But after defeating Athens, Sparta was beset by new hostile alliances, and wars continued, which by about 350 BC left Greece largely rudderless. The resulting power vacuum allowed the northern Macedonians to decicively defeat combined Greek forces at the battle of Chaerona in 338 BC, making Philip of Macedonia the de-facto leader of the Greeks. [Graphic: Spartan Hoplite Phalanx as portrayed in film “300.” Source: http://scottthong.wordpress.com/2007/05/21/the-macedonian-phalanx/

 

 

To what end, all this fighting among Greeks?  Here we should simply read Hobbes, he seems to provide very adequate explanations. Greeks themselves talked about “wanting more” (pleonexia).  Of what? Primarily wealth, but honor to boot. Here the Greeks foreshadowed Hobbes, for they understood that accumulation of resources and reputation were innate human compulsions. Cities competed for wealth, and won honor and respect with acts of military might. Rivalries which might have been appeased with raids or a few days of plundering enemy territory developed into a desire for total annihiliation of the enemy. Luckily, perhaps, most of the cities of the classical era lacked the resouces for long drawn-out campaigns, and they had to make do with amatuer militias and a few seasoned aristocratic warriors who could afford effective weapons. It was this lack of financial deep pockets that allowed the Macedonians to become the dominant power in the region, and it was the Macedonians, under Alexander the Great who spread Greek culture, or Hellenism, far from the shores of Greece, which we will read about below.

 

 

  1. II. What Role Did War Play in Building Territorial States?

When there is dust rising in a high column, it is the sign of chariots advancing; when the dust is low, but spread over a wide area, it betokens the approach of infantry. When it branches out in different directions, it shows that parties have been sent to collect firewood. A few clouds of dust moving to and fro signify that the army is encamping. (Sun Tzu, The Art of War IX, 23.)

 

You know that warfare has become a big deal when you can read an enemy’s actions by the behavior of dust clouds on the horizon. While city states increased the deadliness of warfare, the rise of large territorial states such as appeared with the Assyrians and Akkadians in Mesopotamia, or ancient Egypt, and most notably because of its sheer size, China, increased the scale of war yet further, and made it ever-more organized, bureaucratic and central to the state.

 

The logic of conquering in Mesopotamia led in some periods to greater political unity, and larger polities. Lugalzagesi of Uruk established a territorial state in southern Mesopotamia around 2450 BC.  To this point Mesopotamia was inhabited by two major ethnic groups, separated by their language, Sumerian in the south, and Akkadians who were mostly in the north, in today’s Syria and southern Turkey. Both groups shared a culture, which archaeologists refer to as “Sumerian.” But it was not until Sargon the Great, from the city of Akkad, north of Uruk, (also known as Sargon of Akkad) conquered the lands of Lugalzagesi and “united” the north and south, that this region actually became a single polity under one ruler, around 2330 BC. This is  widely considered the world’s first “empire.”

 

"Ashurnasirpal II Killing Lions" from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II, Nimrud, Iraq, c. 850 BCE.

Hunting was often practice for war. 

 

Sargon’s conquests were momentous both for the region and beyond, as he campaigned far beyond Mesopotamia, including waterborne excursions to what is now Oman and possibly southern Iran, looking to profit economically. If war in Mesopotamia created the need for cities, it subsequently created the idea of empire, and this was emulated and spontaneously re-created the world over as the new visions of kingship and the state developed. (Timeline here for Mesopotamian history: see de Souza: P. 47). 

 

 

Left: Court of Hammurabi: source: http://www.blatner.com/adam/consctransf/historyofmedicine/1-overview/brief.html   Right: Codice of Hammurabi. Louvre, Paris. Graphic note: Interesting to combine “imaginative reconstructions with primary visual sources? Primary sources are very “dead” not as visually descriptive or appealing.

 

As we advance through the centuries in Mesopotamia, crunching enemy heads as we go, the tales of military victories pile up (yet the defeated are silent as ever). Fast forwarding through the Akkadians, and bouncing off the stepping stones of the Babylonians, whose legendary king, Hammurabi, created what some consider the first legal system (Hammurabi’s code), we stop in next at around 700 BC. At this point King Sennacherib of the Neo-Assyrian empire, inscribed his valiant deeds on what is known to archaeologists as Sennacherib’s Prism, a clay prism inscribed with the text of his annals, mostly concerning war and in many parts quite graphic. Describing his “taming” of the Elamites (a people of Southern Mesopotamia) he says: “I cut their throats like sheep…my prancing steeds…plunged into their welling blood as into a river; the wheels of my battle chariots were bespattered with blood and filth. I filled the plain with the corpses of their warriors.”

 

Aerial view of Lachish showing siege ramp front right, and remains of palace on top.

http://www.odysseyadventures.ca/articles/lachish_slides/lachish_text.htm

 

Sennacherib’s warmongering illustrates how early military empires worked. The Assyrians based themselves in the Tigris valley. Wide open plains with no natural defense necessitated a large army.  In 700 BC, When King Hezekiah of Judah, based in Jerusalem, decided he did not need to pay tribute to Sennacherib, the latter mustered an enormous army. The frieze which he later constructed to encircle an entire room in his palace, tells the story of the subsequent siege of Lachish, a city south of Jerusalem.  The pictures unfold as if in real time, reading left to right. Its like a graphic novel, images of the Assyrian army marching north; the preparations for the siege; the siege itself, and the carrying off of tons of booty. Most poignant, perhaps, because it evokes scenes familiar to anyone who watches televised news today, are scenes of more than 200,000 people the Assyrians forcibly removed from the city to relocate elsewhere in the empire. This was a common Assyrian practice when towns or cities were troublesome, and has remained a time-honored habit of leaders throughout history, including most notably Joseph Stalin.

 

Survivors of Lachish marching into exile pass their spread eagled leaders being flayed alive. Relief from Sennacherib’s palace at Nineveh. British Museum.

 

Sennacherib’s modus operandi illustrates all three of Hobbes’s rationales for war: gain, competition, and reputation are all key to the military operation, its strategy and consequence. That there was profit is evident in the portrayal of the spoils hauled away from Lachish; in the competitive world of Mesopotamia all rulers knew that they had to look over their shoulder; reputations preceded rulers, and there can be no doubt that Hezekiah’s fate was noted by other rulers who were considering stiffing the Assyrians.  It would have been useful to have interviewed Sennacherib and ask what his motivation was in all this. Did he have a vision of unity? Or was warfare just a way to become rich? Perhaps unforeseen by the Assyrian rulers who were intent on such benefits of war, Assyria came to control most of what is today considered the Middle East, creating one geo-political region out of it for the first time in history. Whether this was a strategic goal or a side effect of a Hobbesian culture of war is not clear, but the end result, an expanded state, is clear, and is repeated in many regions over and over in human history.

 

Did War Unify Egypt? 

The Narmer Palette is carved from a single piece of schist—slate-like rock—dated to around 3200 BC. Discovered in Upper Egypt in 1897, it was a votive offering, or gift, from the Egyptian king to his “father” the god Amun-RA. The palette tells a tale in pictures and hieroglyphs of military conquest, by King Narmer (also associated with Menes, the unifier of Egypt). On one side of the palette the king stands, legs apart, with his right arm raised, grasping a mace, to smash the skull of a kneeling captive who he holds with his left hand by the hair.  The kneeling man’s name is inscribed above his head possibly indicating that he was important, another king, perhaps, or that he symbolized a people.  King Narmer is barefoot, signifying that he is on sacred ground, performing a ritual execution. Opposite the king’s face we see the falcon

 

The Business of State Building? Narmer Palette: Egyptian Museum, Cairo

Horus of Nehken, representing royalty, standing on six sheaves of papyrus (personified with a human head). The message is clear (at least to Egyptologists): The papyrus represents Lower Egypt, therefore the vignette tells the story of the conquest of Lower Egypt by Upper Egypt.  On the reverse side of the palette is another vignette: The king, walking barefoot and holding his mace, approaches ten decapitated bodies, their heads placed between their legs. Again, here we see the king (depicted as larger than everyone else) vanquishing his foes.

 

In the palette, Narmer is shown sporting both the white crown of Upper Egypt and the red crown on Lower Egypt, making it clear that the dominant theme of the piece is unification. So here is the clear evidence of the war-as-unifier idea. But is it not possible, though, that polities also came together to form larger entities through peaceful means?  Clearly we cannot rule this out, although there is no evidence in the case of Egypt. Trade has often been put forward as an alternative way that mutual interests can converge; economic interaction, over time can create commonalities, which may eventually lead to unification under a single leadership.

 

We can think of different polities coming together out of the pressure of war as a push scenario where unwilling participants are forced to “join or die.”  Sociologist Robert Carneiro wrote about this push model in the 1970s: “Given the universal disinclination of human groups to relinquish their sovereignty, the surmounting of village autonomy could not have occurred peacefully or voluntarily. It could—and did—occur only by force of arms.” Nobody, in other words, would willingly let the neighboring band take over.  But the anthropologist Elman Service offered a rebuttal to Carneiro, in which he proposed just that: “It is, in fact, clear from the record in some cases, and probable in many others, that small neighboring societies, or parts of them, often join an adjacent chiefdom quite voluntarily because of the benefits of participation in the total network.”

 

There seems to be less evidence for Elman’s theories in the historical record, given the grisly history of war. But if communities did not necessarily join out of force, is it possible that they joined to face a threat of violence from a third entity? This seems more likely, and it is this process that has likely fostered unity, alongside the less subtle method of our hero Narmer and his mace.  The notable move from small, less complex societies to larger more complex ones, which we see the world over, is therefore achieved under both the reality and the threat of war.

 

While largely mythological, because the real unification of Egypt was a process which took generations, the Narmer Palette celebrates not just royalty, religion and the forces of order and justice prevailing over chaos, but the unification of the country, which would remain essentially in one geographic piece until the present. The Old Kingdom alone lasted a millenium (3100-2100 BC), and was surprisingly peaceable.  Egyptologists believe that the forty administrative districts of ancient Egypt (or nomes) preserved the outlines of the chiefdoms which were conquered to create the state, and the depictions of warfare on the Narmer Palette, and another early source, the Towns Palette, show this process of “state consolidation.”

 

What were the consequences of such consolidation?  In Egypt, as in other places where similar military campaigns consolidated power, cultural, social and technological developments followed, which invariably bound the state together, as military historian Azar Gat points out:  “Once unified, internal peace was maintained, diverse religious traditions were no doubt standardized and incorporated. A state language was imposed. Royal administration, taxation, economy, justice, and military systems were set up and monumental state construction etc., evolved rapidly.”

 

 

 

What was the Relationship Between War and Culture in Ancient China?

China is the longest-lived and largest state entity in history.  Its history, more than any other perhaps, seems to defy Elman Service’s claims that communities threw in their lots together willingly. Competition for supremacy, just as in city-state Greece, or ancient Mesopotamia, was fierce (even if there were no “flying” martial art heroes as in the movies).

 

War in China, in the Clausewitzian sense, most probably began under the Shang dynasty (1750-1045 BC), in that organized royal armies now began to face off against each other.  Although in rough terms you could say that these wars were expansionist, seeking to conquer neighboring states, control territory and gain booty of various types, in China there was a complicating feature which continued through the Shang and the Zhou dynasties: This was the taking of captives for ritual sacrifice. This provided a major motivation for warfare. As historian Robin Yates puts it: “Sacrifice and war were essential, almost daily activities of the aristocratic elite and there is no indication of any concept of or efforts to establish peace.” Sacrifices, of humans and animals, were intended to venerate ancestors, and in doing so the aristocracy maintained the social and cosmic order. War, in this context, was a religious service, or duty, and included rituals of divination, oaths and prayers before combat, followed by the presentation of booty and captives at the ancestral temples.

 

One of 8000 terra cotta soldiers found in tomb of China’s first emperor. Source: http://www.culture24.org.uk/history+%26+heritage/art50038

 

 

 

Historians still argue over the causes of historical actions. One of the main debates is whether events and processes take place for economic, or “material” reasons, or for ideological reasons—religious beliefs, for example. Often the truth lies in between. China’s warfare is a case in point. Sacrificial victims were a part of the religious ideology of the time, it is true; therefore you might argue that war was fought for ideological reasons. However you must remember that a well-oiled religious establishment enabled rulers to maintain their legitimacy, and in early China the establishment was oiled with the blood of captives.  Spoils and territory were products of war and enabled the victors to expand their operations and enrich themselves.  “Waged against rebellious vassals, other states that were emerging on the Shang’s periphery and under its impact, and tribal neighbors, warfare was a constant state occupation,” says Azar Gat.  [Graphic Shang bronze ritual wine vessel. British Museum].

 

 

The place of rituals in Chinese warfare illustrates how warfare is almost always conducted in the face of human reluctance. During the Spring and Autumn Period (771-403 BC) weapons belonging to the generals were stored in the ancestral temple, taken out only when the head of state had decided on war with other leaders of the lineage, and in the presence of the ancestral “tablets” upon which were written the ancestors’ names. The leader then purified himself before handing out weapons. The process of the war itself and its end were also marked by specific rituals, making evident that war was a “special” event, fraught with hazards ,which necessitated extra observance of religious duties.

 

 

 

Such ritualism continued through the Zhou dynasty, inherited from the Shang which it supplanted. Continuation of the rituals was one way that the state made clear that the gods approved of the new dynasty. The Zhou, and subsequent Chinese dynasties, believed that someone who died of unnatural causes could become a dangerous ghost.  The killing therefore had to be sanctioned by ritual. Dead ancestors enjoyed an afterlife, and had the power to affect the living, for this reason they had to be appeased with constant offerings of food and drink prepared in elaborate ritual vessels made from bronze.

 

 

Conquest was also key to the Zhou’s motivation for war, and this led to later unification of the country:  “War was without question the single most important driver of state formation during China’s Eastern Zhou Dynasty,” says Francis Fukuyama.   Conquest was responsible for the transition from a decentralized feudal state to a centralized imperial one, and in the process almost every major state institution was intimately connected to this military process. It has been estimated that during 294 years, during the so-called “Spring and Autumn period” there were only 38 years of peace. Some 1211 separate wars were fought during this period.  If the subsequent couple of centuries saw fewer wars it was only because there were fewer adversaries to fight them; during the aptly named “Warring States Period,” sixteen states fought each other until there were seven. While the frequency of wars declined, their duration and intensity increased. One Chinese historian reported that 245,000 soldiers died in a battle in 293 BC and 450,000 in 260.

 

In the early dynasties the focus of fighting was the chariot, a wheeled cart pulled by two horses. This was somewhat equivalent to the European “knight” of the Middle Ages, in that the charioteers were usually aristocratic, as the equipment was expensive and the training lengthy. Towards the end of the San Dai, the emphasis on war moved from chariots to infantry, as the numbers of aristocrats shrank.  Large numbers of peasants, who were cheap to equip and quick to train, were conscripted by the state. But such militarism was still expensive. War was not possible without money, as every civilization discovered: “If the campaign is protracted,” says Sun Tzu, “the resources of the state will not be equal to it.” If mass mobilization required money, money meant taxation. To meet this challenge the state of Lu began to tax agricultural land between 594 and 590 BC.  Under similar pressures, in 548 BC, the state of Chu conducted a cadastral survey of its lands, villages, households, and agricultural resources, including items such as fishponds and forests, with the goal of reorganizing its tax base and drafting soldiers. Bureaucracy, therefore, was one consequence of such militarization.

 

 

Terracotta army guarding the first emperor’s tomb.

The Qin state in particular tightened its hold over its populace via bureaucratic reforms carried out by Lord Shang, (d. 338 BC). The state was divided into 31 counties, each with an appointed administrator who reported to the capital in writing. A new elite was created within a hierarchy of ranks.  This replaced the old aristocracy, and remained dependent on the ruler.  New standardized laws applied to everyone equally, and group responsibility was decreed not just within families, but among groups of families, so that entire communities were punished for individual misdeeds. This encouraged informing on one’s neighbors and undermined individual and family ties, guaranteeing loyalty to the state instead.

 

China’s history of warfare is in many ways no different from any other civilization, with age-old reasons driving the conflict: pursuit of an advantage over a rival, Hobbes’ “Gain,” and “reputation,” as well as more articulated “moral” causes invoked to appease the gods. Ultimately the Qin, after a ten-year campaign, created the Chinese empire (221 BC). Subsequently it dismantled all fortifications and confiscated all weapons, casting them into a series of enormous bronze statues, of which none survive today.  The Qin’s peace was forged through war, and at the time considered to be a renewal of the peace that had reigned at the beginning of cosmic time. China’s wars moved outside its borders, as they tend to do, but forever after the Chinese saw themselves as Robin Yates puts it, “as a single people living under a single cosmic ruler who linked the three realms, Heaven, Earth, and Man, into a harmonious whole.”

 

 

Did Warfare Also Accompany Complex Societies in the New World? 

In South America the story was quite familiar. Warfare is evident in coastal Peru, where a series of complex societies evolved from about 2000 to 500 BC.  Disembodied, male heads have been retrieved from the site of Asia on Peru’s central coast. These heads signal the beginning of what was to be a long tradition in this area of taking and curating enemy heads as trophies. At a granite temple of Cerro Sechin, dated to around 1500 BC, you can see gruesome carvings of mutilated and dismembered limbs, the record of ritual sacrifices in which elites displayed their power over others and their link to divinity.

 

 

[Mesoamerican timeline: De Sousa P. 275. ] In Mesoamerica, the Olmecs (C. 1150-400 BC) used organized force to attain their ends in their heartland and beyond.  Early spears and spear throwers quickly give way in Olmec archaeology, to more specialized weapons of war such as maces clubs and stone-tipped spears built for cutting and thrusting more like a sword, and for use in close quarters. Historians of the Olmec think that they trained specialized troops in elite warfare, and these are represented in stone carvings; kings are shown with bound captives showing that projected force was used to build and sustain kingdoms.  The Olmec regional centers, however, were not nearly as densely populated as old world centers of this period, and therefore we do not see large state armies at this point. Instead Olmec warriors played a central part in their trading operations, which were conducted elsewhere in Mesoamerica such as Oaxaca, Guatemala and central Mexico, and as such were instrumental in creating a common cultural area.

 

After 400 BC Olmec uniformity was on the decline, and a period of competing cities ensued. Perhaps the largest of these, Monte Alban in southern Mexico, was home to a people now known as the Zapotecs. It began to fortify its perimeter around 200 BC, and was one of the few city sites found thus war with fortifications, allowing it to dominate other cities without being vulnerable itself. Not unlike Mesopotamia, it seems that there was inevitable conflict between cities, and monuments of conquest in Monte Alban portray the vanquished naked and enslaved, bowing to the king. As the polity matures and spreads its influence, however, these monuments begin to portray victims as clothed, sometimes regally, suggesting that there was a new policy of integration of captives into the regional capital. Monte Alban was becoming the region’s first—albeit modest—empire.

 

How Were the Consequences of Alexander the Great’s Conquests? 

While Egypt was prospering as a large coherent state, and had developed the courtesy to attack only non-Egyptians, the Greeks were duking it out with each other, city by city, as were the Sumerians. But even amongst these distinct entities there was an ongoing process of consolidation, realized through conflict over access to trade routes, defensive leagues and fear of “far enemies” i.e. the Persians, who were usually—but not always—more terrible than the odious neighbors.

 

The battle of Chaerona, which established Philip of Macedonia as overlord of Greece,  was notable in two main ways: first it demonstrated a new military strategy that would become the norm in the Greek world and beyond: the Macedonians combined the infantry formation known as the Phalanx, a tight knit body of infantry, with lighter armed troops and cavalry.  The cavlary was commanded by the second notable item: Alexander, son of Philip, to be known later as Alexander the Great.  Alexander’s greatness, however, was achieved very much on the shoulders of his father, who was respsonsible for creating an effective fighting force in Macedonia to unite Greece behind him, and project force outwards, towards the ancient Greek enemy Persia, seeking the “freedom of the Greeks” living under Persian rule.

Artist’s rendering of a Syntagma, unit of the Phalanx. http://faq.macedonia.org/history/philip.html

 

Just as with Sennacherib, it would have been helpful to interview Alexander and discover whether he had in mind a vision for an overarching empire, or a notion of peace through unification. Or did he just feel compelled to wage incessant war and become master of everything, in other words, a God? (Egyptian priests at the Oasis of Siwa in the Lybian Desert named him son of Amon-Zeus). In 334 BC Alexander crossed into Persian territory, following his father’s assasination, and the next year he scored a massive victory over the Persian King Darius III at Issus. Having secured the rest of the Mediterranean coastline from the Persians, he continued inland, confident, no doubt, in his powers, after his enormous successes. By 329 BC Alexander had killed or defeated all Persian claimants to the throne and had taken over the empire. Finding it hard to know when enough was enough, he continued headlong into Afghanistan, founding cities as he went, often named by some variation of Alexandria, and entered India in 326. Here his energy—ar at least, that of his soldiers—ran out. He retreated eventually to Persia where he spent the last year or so of his life grappling with the problem of ruling this empire he had created in such haste.

 

While his “empire” never really materialized as a coherent, stable unit, Alexander’s story is perhaps the clearest example in history of war spreading ideas, culture and ways of life, in this case Hellenism.  Alexander’s conquests and founding of multiple cities attracted colonists from mainland Greece, and they contributed to spreading the Greek language as well as religion, philosophy and the sciences. Alexander was a proponent of incorporating conquered peoples into his empire and even into his army and administration, and in this way he created a hybrid culture which formed the basis of the Hellenistic period, and put its stamp on large swathes of  North Africa, and south west Asia. The city of Alexandria in Egypt was perhaps the flasgship city in this respect, attracting scholars  from around he Hellenistic world.

 

Alexander’s legacy was multifaceted. Quite apart from his military innovations and successes, he transformed Greece from fragemented warring cities into a regional culture ultimately affecting the world and reaching more people than could  any number of military campaigns. His physical empire, however, fragmented after his death, and city-state Greece continued several more centuries before succumbing to the military superiority of Rome.

 

 

 

IV. Were There Any Peaceful States?

 

Therefore the skillful leader subdues the enemies troops without any fighting; he  captures their cities without laying siege to them; he overthrows their kingdoms without lengthy campaigns in the field. (Sun Tzu,The Art of War, III, 6)

 

The short answer to this question is no. Not really. Bu to clarify, we need a definition of peaceful. This would necessitate agreeing on a length of time in which a society must not fight before being considered peaceful. Matthew Melko and Richard Wiegel, for example, define peace as the absence of physical conflict in a certain region for at least 100 years. They include in this definition the “Ptolemaic Peace” of Egypt (332-216 BC); the Roman Peace, or Pax Romana (203-90 BC). But just because during these periods there were no wars in Egypt or Italy, respectively, it does not follow that these were “peaceful societies.”

 

Other scholars have searched, largely in vain, for peaceful societies, and many have looked long and hard at hunter-gatherer societies, such as the !Kung, or Kalahari “Bushmen.” But Yale anthropologist Carol Ember found that 64% of hunter gatherers engage in war every 2 years. She rated only ten percent as peaceful. While Stephen LeBlanc of Harvard writes that hunter-gatherers, given to regular warfare, rarely take prisoners, preferring annihilation, unless they can use women, which they integrate.

 

 

Ancient India has produced a couple of contenders for the title of “peaceful society” but as we have seen, one of them, Harappa, is dubious. The other one, also questionable, involves King Asoka (ca. 269-232 BC), of India’s Mauryan dynasty. Eight years into his reign he waged a massive campaign in the Kalinga territory of the south. By the end of his reign, India was united under one banner, more or less. His annals, inscribed on a rock (known as the thirteenth Rock Edict) tell of how, in this campaign, 150,000 men were deported from the country (presumably as slaves); 100,000 were slain there, and “many times as many those who died.”

 

We might expect this edict to be a Sumerian-style bragging opportunity, in which the Great King tells the world that he is not to be messed with. But Asoka was different.  He was repulsed by all this bloodshed, and consumed with remorse for the suffering he caused to so many. “For it is considered very painful,” he says, “and deplorable by Devanampriya (A.K.A. Asoka) that, while one is conquering an unconquered country, slaughter, death, and deportation of people are taking place there…”

 

Why even bother to conquer people if you can’t do it without the burden of killing them, you might ask. But short of having the foresight not to conquer people, he does the next best thing: he feels bad about it and decrees that people should not do that sort of thing again. Is this the beginning of a sensibility of peace, perhaps the first in history? The edict goes on to suggest that future generations should resist the urge to bloodshed, and that in the event that they feel compelled to conquer some territory or other, they consider taking mercy, and regard the moral conquest as the only “true” way.

 

This edict is one of the most well known texts in Indian history. Historian Richard Salomon has read thousands of Indian inscriptions in his multi-decade career, carefully looking for signs that someone listened to Asoka and followed his lead. His conclusion?  “It is unique…I have yet to find a single comparable reference to the evils of war and the virtues of peace and gentle persuasion.”

 

This is surprising, Salomon point out, because Asoka invented the practice of inscribing royal proclamations on pillars around the country, like ancient bulletin boards. But while others followed his lead, they only imitated the physical practice, not the ideas. Whatever his motivations might have been—the calming influence of Buddhism, (which he embraced as part of his remorse), which got its start about this time, or some crafty, hypocritical strategy, after Asoka’s death in 232 BC, India “rapidly declined into disorder, fraternal strife, and war, in other words, into the pattern of violent dynastic rivalry and eventual decline that was typical of Ancient India.”

 

That Asoka should prove to be an aberration in practice is not completely obvious. This period, the first truly “Historic” period in India by virtue of its written records, was also synonymous with the rise of Buddhism, which professed a creed of peace, harmony and equality and the end of human suffering. But this might be analogous to the rise in China of Confucianism, based on the writing of Confucius (551-479 BC), one of the earliest of Chinese philosophers, whose conservative philosophy aimed at keeping society in balance by ensuring that each member of society perform their designated role, has remained a central pillar of Chinese society until the present.  Very much a product of its time, it is likely that Buddhism was also a uniquely Indian response to the vicissitudes of ancient life, one of which was constant warfare, and plenty of suffering.

 

 

Conclusion

When an army feeds its horses with grain and kills its cattle for food, and when the men do not hang their cooking pots over the camp fires, showing that they will not return to their tents, you may know that they are determined to fight to the death. 

(The Art of War, IX, 34.)

 

It is always difficult to imagine why people would fight to the death. Often to the modern mind it seems ridiculous that people would choose war over peace. But human have been making such choices from the very beginning of history.  We have learned in this chapter that there are no truly “peaceful” societies; war is endemic, in some form, among every civilization on earth, and as far as all the evidence shows, it always has been.  And contrary to much modern thinking on the subject, war is not a pathology, but it is a natural part of the human experience, emanating from the conflicts between self-interested, rational beings or societies.

 

Where hard evidence runs out in the historical record, in the Neolithic and Paleolithic, we rely on ethnology to look at what modern tribal peoples do, and the evidence from this avenue is similarly suggestive of war. From biologists and geneticist we have learned that in all likelihood a propensity for violence was a beneficial adaptation, which answers the question of our chapter, what is war good for by suggesting that war allowed humans to survive and flourish, albeit at the expense of others. The only reason we have not driven ourselves to extinction—which might seem like a real possibility, especially with nuclear weapons—is that unlike our violent primate cousins, we have deep-seated inhibitions against violence, which act as a break to war.  The ability to be violent has always been an option for humans, as Steven Pinker puts it: “If the brain is equipped with strategies for violence, they are contingent strategies, connected to complicated circuitry which computes when and where they should be deployed.”

 

If selective violence was beneficial for individuals and small bands, the same logic applies to larger groups. Therefore we see warfare blossom and grow with the dawn of civilization. Yet surprisingly, perhaps, the evidence suggests that although warfare expanded in scale with the growth of societies, mortality dropped because of the increased security that the sate offered its citizens. Even if from time to time there would be massive blood-lettings, the final tally appears to have been less than the constant attrition experienced by small non-state societies for whom raids and skirmishes were extremely frequent.

 

It is also clear that war played a central role in driving the growth of societies from small bands to larger settlements, to cities and eventually the full-blown civilizations such as we saw in Egypt, Sumer, China and India and Mesoamerica. Its interesting to wonder whether, in the absence of violence and warfare, human societies would have taken the same path. Much of the technological and socio-political developments we see in the ancient world, from metal working to shipbuilding, from political standardization to fiscal administration is directly related to the demands of warfare.

 

Finally we should look at the role of men in war, as it seems that they are exclusively to blame. History can count incidents of women combatants on the fingers of one hand, and still have one left over to scratch an itch. Historians estimate that they make up less than one percent of combatants in history. Exceptions to the rule include figures such as the English queen Boudicea who fought the Romans, Jean D’Arc of Medieval France, or Sarah Rosetta Wakeman in the US Civil War. But generally, women in most societies commit an insignificant proportion of violent actions, the vast majority being provided by young males. But does this mean women are inherently peace-loving? Not necessarily. Some studies have concluded that women get out their aggression by encouraging their men to acts of barbarity on their behalf. Incitements are often sexual, the baring of breasts by womenfolk before their soldiers is not uncommon in many societies. As you may have guessed, sex provides part of the puzzle in women’s relationship to violence. If aggression is a trait favored by natural selection, it was passed along by women who preferred aggressive males as mates: warriors, in other words, were (and still are) sexy.

 

 

Most people would rather see war as an aberration, an irrational, inexplicable “mistake” that has no basis in human nature. The truth seems to lie elsewhere. Saying this, however, by no means excuses it or legitimizes it. We should remember Sun Tzu’s words, and see war as a strategic option, an option of last resort, and hope that all the other human traits, our ability to cooperate, our ability to empathize with others, our respect for human rights, all conspire to counter the more destructive urges of our ancient past.

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ch. 2 bibliog

Bibliog for ch. 2. Choose and divvy up?

Peter Bellwood, First Farmers: The Origins of Agricultural Socieites (2005)

Graeme Barker, Agricultural Revolution in Prehistory: Why Did Foragers Become Farmers? (2006) This looks key…

Alan Simmons, the Neolitihic Rev in the Near East  

J.R. Harlan, Crops and Man (Armesto says its “indispensible”

O. Bar Yosef: The Natufian Culture in the Levant

M. Ozdogan: The Neolithic in Turkey: The Cradle of Civilization (cited by Armesto)

D.R. Harris: The Origins and Spread of Agric and pastoralism in Eurasia. 1996

C.Wesley Cowan  and Patty Jo Watson: The Origins of Agric: An international Perspective

Marck Cohen: The Food Crisis in Prehistory (discussed the imperative to produce food)

Bruce Smith: The Emergence of Agriculture

John Mears, “Agriculture in Global Perspective” cited in Christian, in Michael Adas (ed) Agricultural and Pastoral Societies in Ancient and Classical History

Rondos: Origins of Agric

Richard McNeish, The origins of Agriculture and Settled Life (explores the Americas)

Donald Henry, From Foraging to Agriculture (Natufian)

Vere Gordon Childe: New Light on the Most Ancient East, and Man Makes Himself (both classics on the Neolithic Rev)

Dani Nadel: his work on grain gathering around sea of Galilee is described in Science 316: 1830-35 (2007) mentioned in Wells, Pandora’s seed.

James Mellaart: Catal Huyuk: A Neolithic town in Anatolia (is it necc to use as well as hodder?

 Marija Gimbutas: The Living Goddess  (is this nece

The Goddess and The Bull, (too journalistic)

Ian Hodder, the Leopard’’s Tale (Up to date archeol of Catal Huyuk)

steven Mithen: After the Ice Age

www.wsu.edu/gened/learn-modules/top_agrev/agrev-index.html  (web based tutorial on ag rev)

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the destruction of the paleolithic

The Orgininal Affluent Society (Marshall Sahlin’s book) describes how life wasn’t so bad in the paleololithic.  Desires were small, so satisfying them was easy.

Civilization as we know it slowly destroyed all of these socieities. The remaining (Bushmen and Aborigines plus a few others) have been disposessed, killed by eco and genocide, and totally marginalized to a point from which, even if they wanted to live like the old times, their land is gone, their languages forgotten and their skills in a sorry state of disrepair.

This is perhaps the biggest story in History: the end of the paleolithich lifeway, the end of the Native Americans, the end of Amazonian tribes, the disposession of the aboriginies, the !Kung, the Inuit.

Sure, its been told before, but mostly in its component parts, and not with an overraching argument, which is essentially the steady erosion of the nomadic, paleo and neolithich by the state, and supposed civilization.

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