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

Table of contents :
Cover
Series
The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East
Copyright
Contents
Preface
The Contributors
Abbreviations
Introducing the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East (Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts)
1. Prehistoric Western Asia (Peter M. M. G. Akkermans)
2. Prehistoric Egypt (E. Christiana Köhler)
3. The Uruk Phenomenon (Gebhard J. Selz)
4. Early Dynastic Egypt (Laurel Bestock)
5. Egypt’s Old Kingdom: A View from Within (Miroslav Bárta)
6. Egypt’s Old Kingdom in Contact with the World (Pierre Tallet)
7. Egypt’s Old Kingdom: Perspectives on Culture and Society (Richard Bussmann)
8. The Early Dynastic Near East (Vitali Bartash)
9. The Kingdom of Akkad: A View from Within (Ingo Schrakamp)
10. The Kingdom of Akkad in Contact with the World (Piotr Michalowski)
Index

Citation preview

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East

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

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

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

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

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Contents

Preface 

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The Contributors 

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Abbreviations 

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

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

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2. Prehistoric Egypt (E. Christiana Köhler) 

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3. The Uruk Phenomenon (Gebhard J. Selz) 

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4. Early Dynastic Egypt (Laurel Bestock) 

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

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

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8. The Early Dynastic Near East (Vitali Bartash) 

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

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

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Index 

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Preface

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

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

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Preface

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

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Table 0.1. Chronological chart. Egypt 6000 bc 5000 bc

4000 bc

3000 bc

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

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

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

Mesopotamia

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

Iraq Ubaid period (6000–​3800 bc)

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

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

Lagaš

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

Kiš

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2700 bc

2500 bc

2400 bc

2300 bc

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

2200 bc Pepy II

Meskalamdug Ur-​Nanše Ayakurgal

Igrišhalab Irkabdamu Išardamu

Iblulil

Mesilim

Eanatum Enmetena Erekagina

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

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

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The Contributors

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

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

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

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

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Abbreviations

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

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

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

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

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Abbreviations SAK VDI WA WdO WZKM ZA ZÄS ZOrA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. For example, Erskine 2003; Bugh 2006.

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

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

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

7. Butzer  1976. 8. Said  1994.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Prehistoric Western Asia Peter M. M. G. Akkermans

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Carlson  2010. 3. Düring 2011.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

51. Flannery 1972; 2002.

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

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

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

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

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

58. Hauptmann 1993.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

130. Rowan and Golden 2009 and references therein.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Prehistoric Egypt E. Christiana Köhler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Figure 2.1b.    

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Figure 2.1c.    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

55. Anderson 1992.

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

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

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

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

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

65. Köhler 1997; 1998a.

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

Historical chronology

Relative chronology

3100–​2700

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

Naqada IIIC–​D

3300–​3100

Naqada IIIA–​B

(Dynasty 0 at Abydos) 3500–​3300

Late Chalcolithic

Naqada IIC/​D–​IIIA

3900–​3500

Early Chalcolithic

Naqada IB/​C–​IIB

4400–​3900

Late Neolithic

Naqada IA/​B “Badarian”

5300–​4400

Early Neolithic

El-​Omari Merimde-​Benisalame Fayum A

8000–​6000

Epipaleolithic

Qarunian Elkabian

10000 300,000

Paleolithic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

78. Tristant 2004.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

136. Köhler 2002.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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3

The Uruk Phenomenon Gebhard J. Selz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

63. Selz 2014b. 64. Collins 2000: 51.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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199

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

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

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

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

201

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201

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

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

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

Uruk period lists

Number Early Dynastic lists of copies

Human and divine Deities −

−

EDGod

Humans ArLu A ArOfficials

185 23

EDLu A + EDOfficials

Cattle ArAnimals

24

EDAnimals A

Animals Pigs ArSwine

1

−

Fish ArFish

22

EDFish

Birds ArBirds

6

EDBirds

9*

EDFood

Animal products Meat ArFood Wool/​cloth ArPots&Garments

91

EDPots&Garment

Plants Plants

ArPlants

5

EDPlants

Trees/​wood

ArWood

30

EDWood

Barley/​cereals

ArFood

9*

EDFood

Other materials Pots/​containers ArPots&Garments

91

EdPots&Garments

Metal ArMetal

55

EDMetal

Geography

ArGeography ArCities

12 17

EDGeography EDCities

Reference

ArWord List C (formerly Tribute List)

56

EDWord List C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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207

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

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

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

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

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

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

209

The Uruk Phenomenon

209

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

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

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

210

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

21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

265. Vanstiphout 2003.

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

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

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Early Dynastic Egypt Laurel Bestock

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

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

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

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Figure 4.1c.    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. Köhler  2008b. 8. Goelet 1999: 24.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

87. Petrie 1901: 16–​19.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Egypt’s Old Kingdom A View from Within Miroslav Bárta

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

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

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

3. Huntington 1993: 23.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

191. Gardiner 1959.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

210. Bárta 2013b.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

226. Bárta 2015a; 2016b.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Figure 6.1b.   

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Figure 6.1c.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

59. Baud and Dobrev 1995.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Old Kingdom.135 At this time, Tell es-​Sakan, south of the modern city of Gaza, was protected by imposing ramparts nearly 8 m thick and possibly reaching a height of almost 10 m.136 A similar stronghold was identified at Tel Poran in the region of Ashkelon, and comparable occupation levels dating to the third millennium bc have also been reported for Tel Gerisa near the city of Jaffa. It is likely that these fortified settlements correspond to a group of foreign citadels that are frequently named in Egyptian sources; from north to south, these settlements are Unet, Seferer, Tepa, and Ida.137 According to the Egyptian sources, these strongholds in Southern Palestine seriously endangered and impeded Egyptian maritime expeditions along the Mediterranean coastline, which required the boats to regularly stop along this coast. The people controlling these strongholds were also a threat to travel over land and to the Egyptian territories on the eastern fringes of the delta and the isthmus of Suez.138 According to the account of Pepynakht, the devastating attack on one of Pepy II’s expeditions to Punt was the work of such “Asiatics who are on the sand” (Aamu-​heriu-​sha), probably from the site of Ayn Sukhna (see section 6.2.4).139 From this perspective, Egypt’s frequent interventions in Southern Palestine appear to have been a response to a real threat. According to the available sources, Old Kingdom Egypt began its military incursions into this region at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty. The royal official Kaiaper recorded on the relief decorations of his tomb at Saqqara that he was “scribe of the king’s troops at Unet, Serer, Tepa, Ida, at the ‘Terraces of Turquoise’ (i.e. the Sinai), in the Western and Eastern Deserts,” which

135. Miroschedji 2015; Miroschedji and Sadek 2001; Miroschedji et al. 2007. 136. Miroschedji 2015: 1028–​1029. 137. This sequence appears at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty in the tomb of Kaiaper (Fischer 1959) and may have reappeared in the tomb of Inti at Deshasha in the text accompanying the representation of a siege (Begon 2016: 18–​22). 138. For a re-​evaluation of these texts see Gundacker 2017. 139. Gourdon 2016: 192–​194.

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Figure 6.6.  Relief from the tomb of Inti at Deshasha, showing the conquest of a fortress in Canaan. After Kanawati and McFarlane 1993: pl. 26.

demonstrates that expeditions were conducted along the Mediterranean coast from this time onward.140 It is also possible that reliefs from the funerary temple of Userkaf, the founder of the Fifth Dynasty, depict a battle between Egyptians and Asiatics, but they are too fragmentary to be certain about the validity of this interpretation.141 However, a military intrusion into Southern Palestine is certainly depicted on a relief scene from the tomb of Inti in Deshasha, probably dating to the end of the Fifth Dynasty, that shows how Egyptian troops besiege a fortress (see figure 6.6).142 The scene shows women, children, and wounded men inside the crenellated walls of the fortress and their prince sitting on his throne in an attitude of mourning. Outside the walls, the victorious Egyptian army is depicted in the top three registers, surrounded by the corpses of the fallen enemies, while chained prisoners are led away in the lower

140. Fischer 1959. 141. Labrousse and Lauer 2000: 91, fig. 310–​311. 142. Petrie 1898: pl. 4; Kanawati and MacFarlane 1993: pl. 26.

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register. To the right of this same register, Egyptian soldiers are shown busy digging to undermine the fortress foundation and placing a ladder against the city wall, ready to storm the fortifications. This depiction combines several distinct phases of the capture of the fortress, and taken in its entirety, it indicates its total defeat. Despite its fragmentary state of preservation, Matthieu Begon was able to plausibly reconstruct the biographical text that accompanies the scene: “[T]‌hen after I had [fought] and killed [the chief of Unet, Serer, Tepa] and Ida, I turned back.”143 This victorious campaign may also have been commemorated in the reliefs that adorn the causeway of the funerary complex of Unas, the last king of the Fifth Dynasty, at Giza; they show Egyptian troops fighting with Asiatics,144 and perhaps even the remains of a scene representing the siege of a city, similar to the depiction from the tomb of Inti in Deshasha.145 One of the most important and detailed biographical texts known to us documents further military operations in the region. Weni, a high official under Pepy I at the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty, details on the walls of his two funerary monuments at Abydos and Saqqara how the royal Egyptian troops under his direction intervened (at least) six times in Southern Palestine.146 The text details how the armies for these campaigns were put together and provides us with a sense of the large scale of these undertakings, as troops were sourced from every province in Egypt, and even from Nubia: “When his majesty repelled the Asiatics and Sand-​Dwellers, his majesty put together an army of many thousands, from all of Upper Egypt, from Elephantine north to Medenyt, from Lower Egypt, from all the Delta, from Sedjer, Khensedjer, from Irtjet Nubians, Medjai Nubians, Iam Nubians, Wawat Nubians, Kaau Nubians and from the Tjemehu. His majesty sent me at the head of this army.”147

143. Begon 2016: 19. 144. Labrousse and Moussa 2002a: fig. 16–​21. 145. Diego Espinel 2011b: 60–​61, fig. 8–​9. 146. Collombert 2015. 147. Sethe 1932: 101–​102; Strudwick 2005: 354.

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The result of the campaign is presented as a victory song that provides a poetic description of the land raided by the Egyptian troops: This expedition returned in peace, having ravaged the land of the Sand-​Dwellers. This expedition returned in peace, having destroyed the land of the Sand-​Dwellers. This expedition returned in peace, having pulled down its fortresses. This expedition returned in peace, having cut down its figs and vines. This expedition returned in peace, having set fire to all its houses. This expedition returned in peace, having slaughtered the troops there in many tens of thousands. This expedition returned in peace, having brought great numbers of the troops therein away as captives.148 This is not the description of a simple skirmish against some desert tribes. What is here reported is the sacking of a country with prosperous agriculture and several important cities. The account of the final campaign allows us to reconstruct the tactics used by the Egyptian forces, and their attacks from both land and sea confirm that the targeted population lived on the coast: “It was said that there were insurgents in those foreign lands in the area above Gazelle Nose. So, I crossed over in barges with these troops, north of the highlands of the mountain range, north of the land of the Sand-​Dwellers was where I made a landing, while half of the army was still on the road. Only after I apprehended them all, slaughtering every insurgent among them, did I return.”149 Modern research has often located “Gazelle Nose” at Mount Carmel, as it forms a prominent protrusion along the northern coast of Israel. However, the discovery of

148. Sethe 1932: 103–​104; Strudwick 2005: 354–​355. 149. Sethe 1932: 104–​105; Strudwick 2005: 355.

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the Early Bronze Age III citadels in Southern Palestine seems to support the proposal by Pierre de Miroschedji, who identified the site of this battle with Jaffa near present-​day Tel Aviv, also a prominent point in the landscape of the region and possibly the location of the ancient fortress of Ida.150 Others have forwarded other reconstructions,151 and until more evidence becomes available, we must reserve judgment. It is much debated whether or whether not these Sand-​Dwellers migrated northward.152 But that Southern Palestine was a primary destination for Egyptian military operations for most of the Old Kingdom period is beyond doubt. The campaigns reported by Weni, important as they may have been at the time, do not seem to have had a lasting effect, as the tomb autobiography of Pepynakht from the end of the Old Kingdom still mentions destructive activities by rebellious populations in the region.

6.4.  Conclusions For the Old Kingdom period, the available sources, while providing much detail on certain topics, do not dwell on the theme of Egypt’s international relations. In official accounts, the interaction with the world outside Egypt was largely depicted in the form of stereotypical scenes of subjugation and tribute delivery, and the historical accuracy of such scenes is generally difficult to establish. The annalistic tradition that has been preserved only in fragments places much greater emphasis on the king’s role as a builder or priest, as it was not yet customary to present the king as the leader of the army, even if Egypt’s ability to dominate foreign lands was already emphasized.153 Sources from the later Old Kingdom period, dating mainly to the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties, when the genre of autobiographical narrative

150. Miroschedji 2012; on Ida see Begon 2016. 151. Most recently discussed by Gundacker 2017. 152. Gundacker 2017: 342–​376; Höflmayer 2017: 14–​15. 153. Spalinger 2017: 94.

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came into existence in the context of tomb decoration, present a much more complex and far more eventful image of Egypt’s relationship with the lands abroad, in which battles and military engagements are common. These sources also demonstrate that by this time the Egyptians had acquired an in-​depth knowledge of the neighboring regions, and that the state maintained a fleet that served both commercial and military functions. Finally, the available sources highlight Egypt’s ability to maintain commercial ties with very distant regions. The diplomatic gifts exchanged with Punt, Yam, and the coastal regions of Lebanon and Syria, and the occasional strengthening of those relationships through strategic alliances, contrast sharply with the brutality that the Egyptian forces directed against the more immediately adjacent territories; Lower Nubia, the Libyan coast, and Southern Palestine were frequently subject to raids that were intended to capture people in order to supplement Egypt’s workforce, and such raids alternated with campaigns of intimidation that were meant to keep these regions under Egyptian domination without ever occupying them permanently. It seems that in these border lands of Egypt’s military sphere of influence, the state only developed commercial relationships to the degree necessary to allow the unhindered movement of raw materials and exotic products into the Nile valley. R ef er en c es Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G. and Tallet, P. 2016. Ayn Soukhna, III: le complexe de galeries-​magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G., Tallet, P. and Fluzin, P. 2011. Ayn Soukhna, II:  Les ateliers métallurgiques du Moyen Empire. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Abd el-​Raziq, M., Castel, G., Tallet, P. and Ghica, V. 2002. Les inscriptions d’Ayn Soukhna. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale.

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Agut-​Labordère, D. 2014. Créer la route: le canal des pharaons entre la Mer Rouge et la Méditerranée de Néchao II à Darius. EAO 75: 61–​66. Baines, J. and Parkinson, R.B. 1997. An Old Kingdom record of an oracle? Sinai inscription 13. In Van Dijk, J. (ed.), Essays on ancient Egypt in honour of Herman Te Velde. Groningen: Styx, 9–​27. Bard, C.A. and Fattovich, R. 2007. Harbor of the pharaohs to the land of Punt:  archaeological investigations at Marsa/​Wadi Gawasis, Egypt 2001–​ 2005. Naples: Universitá degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”. Bardinet, T. 2008. Relations économiques et pressions militaires en Méditerranée orientale et en Libye au temps des pharaons. Paris: Cybèle. Baud, M. 2002. Djoser et la IIIe dynastie. Paris: Pygmalion. Baud, M. and Dobrev, V. 1995. De nouvelles annales de l’Ancien Empire égyptien: une Pierre de Palerme pour la VIe dynastie. BIFAO 95: 23–​92. Bavay, L. 1997. Matière première et commerce à longue distance: le lapis-​lazuli et l’Égypte prédynastique. Archéo-​Nil 7: 79–​100. Bavay, L., De Putter, T., Adams, B.G., Navez, J. and André, L. 2000. The origin of obsidian in Predynastic and Early Dynastic Upper Egypt. MDAIK 56: 5–​20. Begon, M. 2016. Nédia, Dia ou bien plutôt Ida? La ‘campagne asiatique’ d’Inti de Deshasha (fin de la Ve dynastie) et le littoral sud de la Palestine durant la seconde moitié du IIIe millénaire Bronze Ancien III). Nehet 5: 1–​24. Bergmann, C. 2001. Der letzte Beduine. Reinbek: Rowohlt. Biga, M.G. and Roccati, A. 2012. Tra Egitto e Siria nel III millennio a.C. Atti della Accademia delle scienze di Torino 146: 17–​42. Bloxam, E. and Storemyr, P. 2002. Old Kingdom basalt quarrying activities at Widan el-​Faras, Northern Faiyum Desert. JEA 88: 23–​36. Bonnet, C. 2000. Edifices et rites funéraires à Kerma. Paris: Errance. Bonnet, C. 2004. Le temple principal de la ville de Kerma et son quartier religieux. Paris: Errance. Bonnet, C. and Valbelle, D. 2014. La ville de Kerma: une capitale nubienne au sud de l’Égypte. Lausanne: Favre. Borchardt, L. 1907. Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Neuserre. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Borchardt, L. 1913. Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Sahu-​re. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Cabon, O. (ed.) 2018. Histoire et civilisations du Soudan de la préhistoire à nos jours. Paris: Soleb. Castel, G. 1998. Les mines du Ouadi Um Balad (désert oriental). BIFAO 98: 57–​87.

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Castel, G., Pantalacci, L. and Cherpion, N. 2001. Le mastaba de Khentika: Tombeau d’un gouverneur de l’Oasis à la fin de l’Ancien Empire. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Castel, G. and Pouit, G. 1997. Anciennes mines métalliques dans la partie nord du désert oriental d’Égypte. Archéo-​Nil 7: 101–​112. Castel, G. and Soukiassian, G. 1989. Gebel el-​Zeit I: les mines de galène (Égypte, IIe millénaire av. J.-​C.). Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Castel, G. and Tallet, P. 2019. Ayn Soukhna, IV: études du matériel des galeries-​ magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Chartier-​ R aymond, M. 1988. Notes sur Maghara (Sinaï). CRIPEL 10: 13–​22. Chartier-​Raymond, M., Gratien, B., Traunecker, C. and Vincon, J.-​M. 1994. Les sites miniers du Sud-​Sinaï. CRIPEL 16: 31–​77. Collombert, P. 2015. Une nouvelle version de l’autobiographie d’Ouni. In Legros, R. (ed.), Cinquante ans d’éternité: jubilé de la mission archéologique française de Saqqara. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 145–​158. Couyat, J. and Montet, P. 2012. Les inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques du Ouadi Hammamat. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Creasman, P.P. and Wilkinson, R.H. (eds.) 2017. Pharaoh’s land and beyond. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Daressy, G. 1916. La Pierre de Palerme et la chronologie de l’Ancien Empire. BIFAO 12: 161–​214. Darnell, J.C. 2002. Theban desert road survey in the Egyptian Western Desert, vol. 1. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Diego Espinel, A. 2002. The role of the temple of Ba’alat Gebal as intermediary between Egypt and Byblos during the Old Kingdom. SAK 30: 103–​119. Diego Espinel, A. 2003. Antes del combate: la información sobre el enemigo y su execración durante el Reino Antiguo. In Alonso Baquer, M. et al. (eds.), La guerra en Oriente Próximo y Egipto. Madrid: Servicio de Publicaciones, Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, 317–​328. Diego Espinel, A. 2006. Etnicidad y territorio en el Egipto del Reino Antiguo. Barcelona:  Servei de Publicacions de la Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. Diego Espinel, A. 2011a. Abriendo los caminos de Punt: contactos entre Egipto y el ámbito afro-​árabe durante la Edad del Bronce (ca. 3000 a.C.–​1065 a.C.). Barcelona: Bellaterra arqueología.

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Diego Espinel, A. 2011b. Blocks from the Unas Causeway recorded in Cerny’s notebooks at the Griffith Institute, Oxford. In Strudwick, N. and Strudwick H. (eds.), Old Kingdom, new perspectives:  Egyptian art and archaeology, 2750–​2150 bc. Oxford: Oxbow, 50–​70. Diego Espinel, A. 2012. Egypt and the Levant during the Old Kingdom. Aula Orientalis 30: 359–​367. Diego Espinel, A. 2017. The scent of Punt (and elsewhere): trade and functions of snṯr and ʿntw during the Old Kingdom. In Incordino, I. and Creasman, P.P. (eds.), Flora trade between Egypt and Africa in antiquity. Oxford: Oxbow,  21–​48. Dunand, M. 1927. La cinquième campagne des fouilles de Byblos (mars-​juin 1926). Syria 8: 92–​104. Dunand, M. 1939. Fouilles de Byblos, I. Paris: Geuthner. Dunand, M. 1958. Fouilles de Byblos, II. Paris: Geuthner. Edel, E. 1955. Inschriften des Alten Reiches, V:  die Reiseberichte des Ḥrw-​ḫwjf (Herchuf ). In Firchow, O. (ed.), Ägyptologische Studien. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag,  51–​75. Edel, E. 1960. Nachträge zu den Reiseberichten des Ḥrw-​ḫwjf. ZÄS 85: 18–​23. Edel, E. 1983. Beiträge zu den ägyptischen Sinaiinschriften. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Edel, E. 1996. Studien zu den Relieffragmenten aus dem Taltempel des Königs Snofru. In Der Manuelian, P. and Freed, R. (eds.), Studies in honor of William Kelly Simpson. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 199–​208. Eichler, E. 1993. Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. El-​Awady, T. 2009. Abusir XVI: Sahure —​the pyramid causeway: history and decoration program in the Old Kingdom. Prague: Charles University. El-​Awady, T. 2011. The problem of Bȝt. In Callender, V.G. et al. (ed.), Times, signs and pyramids: studies in honour of Miroslav Verner. Prague: Charles University,  25–​30. Emery, W.B. 1963. Egypt Exploration Society: preliminary report on the excavations at Buhen, 1962. Kush 11: 116–​120. Engelbach, R. 1933. The quarries of the Western Nubian Desert: a preliminary report. ASAE 33: 65–​74. Engelbach, R. 1938. The quarries of the Western Nubian Desert and the ancient road to Toshka. ASAE 38: 369–​390.

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Fischer, H.G. 1959. A scribe of the army in a Saqqara mastaba of the early Fifth Dynasty. JNES 18: 263–​272. Fischer, H.G. 1985. More about the smn.tjw. GM 84: 25–​32. Förster, F. 2007. With donkeys, jars and water bags into the Libyan Desert: the Abu Ballas trail in the late Old Kingdom/​First Intermediate Period. BMSAES 7: 1–​39. Förster, F. 2015. Der Abu Ballas-​Weg: eine pharaonische Karawanenroute durch die Libysche Wüste. Cologne: Heinrich-​Barth-​Institut. Förster, F. and Riemer, H. (eds.) 2013. Desert Road archaeology. Cologne: Heinrich-​Barth-​Institut. Francis Allouche, M. and Grimal, N. 2016. The maritime approaches to ancient Byblos, Lebanon. Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 4: 242–​277. Gardiner, A.H., Peet, T.E. and Černý, J. 1952. The inscriptions of Sinai. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Giddy, L. 1987. Egyptian oases. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Goedicke, H. 1967. Königliche Dokumente aus den Alten Reich. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Goedicke, H. 1981. Harkhuf ’s travels. JNES 40: 1–​20. Goedicke, H. 1988. Yam -​More. GM 101: 35–​42. Gourdon, Y. 2014. Les nouvelles inscriptions rupestres de Hatnoub. BSFE 189: 26–​45. Gourdon, Y. 2016. Pépy Ier et la VIe dynastie. Paris: Pygmalion. Goyon, G. 1957. Nouvelles inscriptions du Ouadi Hammamat. Paris: Adrien-​Maisonneuve. Grandet, P. 2008. Les pharaons du Nouvel Empire:  une pensée stratégique. Monaco: Le Rocher. Gratien, B. 1995. La Basse Nubie à l’Ancien Empire. JEA 81: 43–​56. Grimal, N. 1985. Les noyés de Balat. In Geus, F. and Thill, F. (eds.), Mélanges offerts à Jean Vercoutter. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les civilisations, 111–​121. Grimal, N. and Francis Allouche, M. 2012. Nouvelles recherches archéologiques à Byblos. CRAIBL 2012/​1: 279–​302. Gundacker, R. 2006. Zwei Felsinschriften aus der Zeit Snofrus. Sokar 13: 70–​73. Gundacker, R. 2017. The significance of foreign toponyms and ethnonyms in Old Kingdom text sources. In Höflmayer, F. (ed.), The late third

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millennium in the ancient Near East: chronology, C14 and climate change. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 333–​428. Harrell, J.A. and Brown, T.M. 1995. An Old Kingdom basalt quarry at Widan el-​Faras and the quarry road to Lake Moeris in the Fayum, Egypt. JARCE 32: 71–​91. Höflmayer, F. 2017. The late third millennium bc in the ancient Near East and Eastern Mediterranean:  a time of collapse and transformation. In Höflmayer, F. (ed.), The late third millennium in the ancient Near East: chronology, C14 and climate change. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1–​30. Ibrahim, M.R. and Tallet, P. 2009. King Den in South-​Sinai:  the earliest monumental rock inscription of the Pharaonic period. Archéo-​Nil 19: 179–​184. Jequier, G. 1940. Le monument funéraire de Pépi II/​3: les approches du temple. Cairo: Service des antiquités de l’Égypte. Kaiser, W. et  al. 1976. Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine:  sechster Grabungsbericht. MDAIK 32: 67–​112. Kanawati, N. and MacFarlane, A. 1993. Deshasha: the tombs of Inti, Shedu and others. Sydney: Australian Centre for Egyptology. Kuhlmann, K.-​P. 2002. The “oasis bypath” or the issue of desert trade in Pharaonic times. In Lenssen-​Erz, T., Tegtmeier, U. and Kröpelin, S. (eds.), Tides of the desert:  contributions to the archaeology and environmental history of Africa in honour of Rudolph Kuper. Cologne:  Heinrich-​Barth-​ Institut, 125–​170. Kuhlmann, K.P. 2005. Der “Wasserberg des Djedefre” (Chufu 01/​1). MDAIK 61: 243–​289. Labrousse, A. and Lauer, J.-​P. 2000. Les complexes funéraires d’Ouserkaf et de Néferhétepès. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Labrousse, A. and Moussa, A. 2002. La chaussée du complexe funéraire du roi Ounas. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Leclant, J. 1980. La famille libyenne au temple haut de Pepi Ier. In Vercoutter, J. (ed.), Livre du Centenaire, 1880–​1980. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale,  49–​54. Lehner, M. 1997. The complete pyramids. London: Thames & Hudson. Marcolin, M. and Diego Espinel, A. 2011. The Sixth Dynasty biographic inscriptions of Iny: more pieces to the puzzle. In Barta, M., Coppens, P.

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and Krejči, J. (eds.), Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2010. Prague: Charles University, 570–​615. Meeks, D. 1997. Navigation maritime et navires égyptiens: les éléments d’une controverse. In García, D. and Meeks, D. (eds.), Techniques et économies antiques et médiévales: le temps de l’innovation, Paris: Errance, 175–​194. Meeks, D. 2002. Coptos et les chemins de Pount. Paris: De Boccard. Miroschedji, P. de. 2012. Egypt and southern Canaan in the third millennium bce: Uni’s Asiatic campaigns revisited. In Gruber, M. et al. (ed.), All the wisdom of the East: studies in Near Eastern archaeology and history in honor of Eliezer D. Oren. Fribourg: Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 265–​292. Miroschedji, P. de. 2015. Les relations entre l’Égypte et le Levant aux IVe et IIIe millénaires à la lumière des fouilles de Tell es-​Sakan. CRAIBL 2015/​ 2: 1003–​1038. Miroschedji, P. de and Sadek, M. 2001. Gaza et l’Égypte de l’époque prédynastique à l’Ancien Empire: premiers résultats de la fouille de Tell es-​Sakan. BSFE 152: 41–​46. Miroschedji, P. de et al. 2007. Les fouilles de Tell es-​Sakan (Gaza): nouvelles données sur les contacts égypto-​cananéens aux IVe et Ve millénaires. Paléorient 27: 75–​104. Moeller, N. 2016. The archaeology of urbanism in ancient Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Montet, P. 1928. Byblos et l’Égypte:  quatre campagnes de fouilles 1921–​1924. Paris: Geuthner. Moreno García, J.C. 1999. Ḥwt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire. Paris: Honoré Champion. Mumford, G. 2006. Tell Ras Budran (site 345): defining Egypt’s eastern frontier and mining operations in South Sinai during the late Old Kingdom (Early EB IV/​MB I). BASOR 342: 13–​67. Mumford, G. and Parcak, S. 2003. Pharaonic ventures into South Sinai:  el-​ Markha Plain site 346. JEA 89: 83–​116. Obsomer, C. 2006. Hirkhouf et la localisation de Yam. In El-​Saeed, E. (ed.), The Festschrift volume:  a collection of studies presented to Professor Abdel Monem Abdel Haleem Sayed. Alexandria:  University of Alexandria, 275–​292.

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Obsomer, C. 2007. Les expéditions d’Herkhouf (VIe dynastie) et la localisation de Iam. In Bruwier, M.-​C. (ed.), Pharaons noirs:  sur la Piste des Quarante Jours. Morlanwelz: Musée Royal de Mariemont, 39–​52. O’Connor, D. 1986. The locations of Yam and Kush and their historical implications. JARCE 23: 27–​50. O’Connor, D. 2014. The Old Kingdom town of Buhen. London:  Egypt Exploration Society. Osing, J. 1976. Ächtungstexte aus dem Alten Reich. MDAIK 32: 133–​185. Pantalacci, L. 1998. La documentation épistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à Balat/​Ayn Asil. BIFAO 98: 303–​315. Petrie, W.M.F. 1898. Deshasheh, 1897. London: Egypt Exploration Fund. Petrie, W.M.F. 1906. Researches in Sinai. London: John Murray. Prag, K. 1978. Silver in the Levant in the fourth millennium bc. In Moorey, P. and Parr, P. (eds.), Archaeology in the Levant: essays for Kathleen Kenyon. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 36–​45. Redford, D.B. 1992. Egypt, Canaan and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rilly, C. 2017. Histoire du Soudan de ses origines à la chute du sultanat de Fung. In Cabon, O. et al. (ed.), Histoire et civilisations du Soudan. Paris: Soleb, 26–​445. Roccati, A. 1982. La littérature historique sous l’Ancien Empire. Paris: Cerf. Roccati, A. 2012. Una miniera di turchese di epoca faraonica nel deserto occidentale egiziano. Atti della Accademia delle scienze de Torino 146: 43–​55. Rothenberg, B. 1987. Pharaonic copper mines in South Sinai. Institute for Archaeo-​Metallurgical Studies 10/​11: 1–​7. Sayed, A.M. 1977. Discovery of the site of 12th Dynasty port at Wadi Gawasis on the Red Sea shore. RdE 29: 140–​178. Scandone Matthiae, G. 1981. I vasi egiziani in pietra del Palazzo Reale G. Studia Eblaitica 4: 99–​127. Scandone Matthiae, G. 1988. Les relations entre Ebla et l’Égypte au IIIe et au IIe millénaire av. J.-​Chr. In Waetzoldt, H. and Hauptmann, H. (eds.), Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft von Ebla. Heidelberg:  Heidelberger Orientverlag,  67–​73. Schneider, T. 2015. The Old Kingdom abroad:  an epistemological perspective, with remarks on the biography of Iny and the kingdom of Dugurasu. In Der Manuelian, P. and Schneider, T. (eds.), Toward a new history for

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the Egyptian Old Kingdom: perspectives on the Pyramid Age. Leiden: Brill, 429–​455. Sethe, K. 1932. Urkunden des Alten Reichs, I. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Seyfried, K.J. 1976. Nachträge zu Yoyotte “les smntjw”. GM 20: 45–​47. Shaw, I. 2003. New fieldwork at Gebel el-​Asr: “Chephren Diorite Quarries”. In Hawass, Z. (ed.), Egyptology at the dawn of the twenty-​first century. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 448–​454. Somaglino, C. and Tallet, P. 2014. Une campagne en Nubie sous la Ire dynastie: la scène nagadienne du Gebel Sheikh Suleiman comme prototype et modèle. Nehet I: 1–​46. Soukiassian, G. (ed.) 2013. Balat, XI: monuments funéraires du palais et de la nécropole. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Soukiassian, G., Wuttmann, M. and Pantalacci, L. 1990. Balat, III: les ateliers de potiers d’Ayn Asil: fin de l’Ancien Empire, Première Période Intermédiaire. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Soukiassian, G., Wuttmann, M. and Pantalacci, L. 2002. Balat, VI: le palais des gouverneurs de l’époque de Pépy II; les sanctuaires de ka et leurs dépendances. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Sowada, K. 2009. Egypt in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Old Kingdom:  an archaeological perspective. Fribourg:  Academic Press & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Spalinger, A. 2017. The armies of Re. In Creasman, P.P. and Wilkinson, R.H. (eds.), Pharaoh’s land and beyond: ancient Egypt and its neighbors. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 93–​111. Strudwick, N. 1985. The administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. London: Kegan Paul International. Strudwick, N. 2005. Texts from the Pyramid Age. Atlanta, GA:  Society of Biblical Literature Press. Tallet, P. 2012. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, I: catalogue complémentaire des inscriptions du Sinaï. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2015a. Les “ports intermittents” de la mer Rouge à l’époque pharaonique: caractéristiques et chronologie. Nehet 3: 31–​72. Tallet, P. 2015b. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, II: les inscriptions pré-​et proto-​ dynastiques du Ouadi ‘Ameyra. Cairo:  Institut français d’archéologie orientale.

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Tallet, P. 2017. Les papyrus de la Mer Rouge, I: le “journal de Merer” (papyrus Jarf A et B). Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2018. La zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï, III: les expéditions égyptiennes dans la zone minière du Sud-​Sinaï du prédynastique à la fin de la XXe dynastie. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Tallet, P. 2019a. Le matériel inscrit d’Ayn Soukhna (2002–​2016). In Castel, G. and Tallet, P. (eds.), Ayn Soukhna, IV: études du matériel des galeries-​ magasins. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, 1–​117. Tallet, P. 2019b. “Bat” and the “Fortress of Khufu” in the Wadi el-​Jarf logbooks. In Piacentini, P. and Delli Casrelli, A. (eds.), Old Kingdom art and archaeology. Milan: Libreria Antiquaria Pontremoli, 58–​67. Tallet, P. 2019c. Des nains, des étoffes et des bijoux: le papyrus de Nefer-​Irou au Ouadi el-​Jarf. In Vuilleumier, S. and Meyrat, P. (eds.), Sur les pistes du desert: mélanges offerts à Michel Valloggia. Gollion: Interfolio, 217–​226. Tallet, P., Castel G. and Fluzin, P. 2012. Metallurgical sites of South Sinai in the Pharaonic era: new discoveries. Paléorient 37: 79–​89. Tallet, P. and Marouard, G. 2014. The harbor of Khufu on the Red Sea coast at Wadi al-​Jarf, Egypt. NEA 77: 4–​14. Tallet, P. and Marouard, G. 2016. The harbor facilities of king Khufu on the Red Sea shore: the Wadi el-​Jarf/​Tell Ras Budran system. JARCE 52: 135–​177. Tallet, P., Marouard, G. and Laisney, D. 2012. Un port de la IVe dynastie au Ouadi el-​Jarf (Mer Rouge). BIFAO 112: 399–​446. Tristant, Y. 2012. Nouvelles découvertes dans le Désert Oriental:  le Ouadi Araba de la préhistoire à l’époque copte. BSFE 182: 33–​53. Valbelle, D. 1990. Les Neuf Arcs: l’Égyptien et les étrangers de la préhistoire à la conquête d’Alexandre. Paris: Armand Colin. Valbelle, D. and Bonnet, C. 1996. Le sanctuaire d’Hathor, maîtresse de la turquoise: Serabit el-​Khadim au Moyen Empire. Paris: Picard. Valbelle, D. and Bonnet, C. (eds.) 1998. Le Sinaï durant l’antiquité et le Moyen Âge: 4000 ans d’histoire pour un désert. Paris: Errance. Valloggia, M. 1998. Le monument funéraire d’Ima-​Pepy/​Ima-​Meryrê. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Vandersleyen, C. 1996. Les monuments de l’Ouadi Gaouasis et la possibilité d’aller au pays de Pount par la Mer Rouge. RdE 47: 107–​115. Yoyotte, J. 1953. Pour une localisation du pays de Yam. BIFAO 52: 173–​178.

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Yoyotte, J. 1975. Les sementiou et l’exploration des régions minières à l’Ancien Empire. BSFE 73: 44–​55. Wilkinson, T.A. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London and New York: Routledge. Wilkinson, T.A. 2000. Royal annals of ancient Egypt. London:  Kegan Paul International. Willeitner, J. 2003. Die ägyptischen Oasen: Städte, Tempel und Gräber in der Libyschen Wüste. Mainz: Zabern.

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Egypt’s Old Kingdom Perspectives on Culture and Society Richard Bussmann

7.1.  Introduction The Old Kingdom is the first period in world history of centralized political authority extending over a large territory (see ­figure 7.1).1 Egyptian society of the Old Kingdom exhibits typical features of early complex societies, such as kingship, central administration, writing, a distinct elite culture, labor division, and nascent urbanism. Many conventions in art and writing used throughout pharaonic history were developed during the Old Kingdom. In ancient Egyptian literary texts of later periods, the Old Kingdom is an exemplary setting for narratives about origins and core values.2

1. I am grateful to John Baines for detailed comments and corrections and to Bart Vanthuyne, Juan Carlos Moreno García, and Miroslav Bárta for feedback on a previous draft of this chapter. The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. 2. Tait  2003. Richard Bussmann, Egypt’s Old Kingdom In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190687854.003.0008.

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Figure  7.1a.  Sites mentioned in c­hapter  7. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

A large proportion of research into the Old Kingdom is centered on the development of elite institutions.3 A social history that follows the contours of the monumental evidence can be summarized as a series of successive processes, from colonization in the early Old Kingdom through bureaucratization to demotization in the late Old Kingdom, followed by the collapse of the state and the emergence of local patrons.4 To 3. Málek 2000; Moreno García 2004; Baud 2010; Bárta 2011. 4. Assmann 1996: 60–​67.

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Figure 7.1b.    

flesh out this summary a little, centralization of Egyptian society reached its peak—​with the region around Memphis, near modern Cairo, emerging as the exclusive location of pyramids and court cemeteries—​during the Third and Fourth Dynasties. This went hand in hand with increased efforts by the central administration to colonize the hinterland through royal foundations scattered across nomes (administrative districts) and designed to deliver supplies for the royal mortuary cult. In the Fifth Dynasty, the assignment of the highest administrative offices was no longer based exclusively on ties of kinship with the king. More and more officials began to include biographical texts in their tomb inscriptions, which shed light on life and values at court. The kings of this period erected temples for the sun god next to their pyramids. Toward the end of the dynasty, sun temples ceased being built and funerary spells, the Pyramid

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Figure 7.1c.    

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Texts, were recorded on the walls of the burial chambers of kings (and later of queens). From the early Sixth Dynasty onward, court officials were increasingly sent into the provincial hinterland to represent royal authority. They combined courtly modes of display with local administrative offices, particularly the office of chief priest in local temples. After the collapse of the state at the end of the Old Kingdom, provincial culture started flourishing in Upper Egypt. Lower and Middle Egypt were ruled by the truncated successor to the Old Kingdom state, the capital of which was at Herakleopolis. The country was reunited toward the beginning of the Middle Kingdom, in the mid-​Eleventh Dynasty, by kings originating from the milieu of provincial governors based at Thebes. In a seminal overview of the Old and Middle Kingdoms, Barry Kemp proposed that the society of this period was structured in a hierarchical fashion: from king and royal family to the courtiers and on to the lower-​ranking administrators; from the central administration to that of the provinces, and here in particular the local governors (nomarchs).5 During the period of roughly four hundred years that encompassed the late Old Kingdom and the first half of the Middle Kingdom, local governors played an important role in mediating between the crown and the provincial hinterland. In a later article, Kemp coined the term “nomarchy” for this era.6 In his book Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization, Kemp explored provincial culture beyond administrative elites, arguing that Egypt in the Old Kingdom was a country of two cultures, central and local.7 Both the model of the two cultures and the nomarchy are discussed below. Bruce Trigger compared Egypt during the Old and Middle Kingdoms with other early civilizations.8 He distinguished three social classes: the king and his family, the upper class, and the commoners. According to Trigger, members of the upper class owned land and derived their wealth

5. Kemp 1983. 6. Kemp 1995: 38–​46. 7. Kemp  2006. 8. Trigger  2003.

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from administrative offices, whereas commoners depended on upper-​ class households and carried out manual labor. This group would have included scribes, soldiers, police, and specialized craftsmen, as well as peasants, the latter amounting to 80 percent of the population. Trigger believed that slaves were not numerous in Old and Middle Kingdom Egypt and that social mobility was restricted due to offices and professions being inherited. He rightly emphasized that owning land was a principal source of income and that whether one was or was not engaged in manual labor was a dividing line between social classes. However, since Trigger stressed commonalities between the societies he compared, his account is sometimes difficult to reconcile with the available record, which reveals much diachronic change. Moreover, the culturally specific forms and contexts in which status, identities, and relationships were displayed and enacted remain obscure. One of the challenges in writing a cultural and social history of the Old Kingdom is the limited range of written sources known from this period, with literary texts largely absent. More documentary evidence is available, but apart from the administrative titles of courtiers and the naming patterns of royal domains, it is too unevenly distributed to show clear diachronic trends or to differentiate patterns from exceptional cases.9 Because most Old Kingdom written and visual sources were intended for the central administration and for royal and elite display, syntheses, including those based on the archaeological record, tend to be produced at the level of kingship and the state, as discussed in ­chapters 5 and 6. Historians disagree on definitions of cultural and social history. Traditionally, cultural history has been understood to be the history of ideas, and usually the ideas and styles of the elite have been interpreted as epitomizing a culture, while social history has been understood to be the history of structures, such as state organizations, social classes, and economic systems. In the second half of the twentieth century, agent-​ based approaches emerged that foregrounded, among other things, the

9. Eyre  1987.

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interdependence of practices and representations, everyday strategies of appropriation, and small-​scale contexts of historical inquiry.10 Drawing on these debates, this chapter takes as a guiding principle the diachronic development of, and exchange between, central and local milieus. It explores to what extent social conditions shaped the production of knowledge and offers a glimpse of both the diversity and coherence within Old Kingdom society. The first section (section 7.2) outlines changes in royal ideology and court society. The second section explores funerary culture, emphasizing social diversity as well as considering questions of funerary belief and diachronic change. The discussion of settlements in the third section adopts a typological and chronological perspective on urban growth. The fourth section develops thoughts on cultural diversity and the role of provincial community shrines, followed by an outline of the early nomarchy in the fifth section. The final section offers a broader view of some principal features of Old Kingdom society and culture.

7.2.  Kingship and court society Most of the evidence for Old Kingdom kingship and court society comes from funerary contexts and ranges from the architecture of pyramids, the tombs of courtiers, and the statues associated with them to tomb decoration and inscriptions. Of the settlements in which these courtiers lived there are only a few preserved remains, and no remains of royal palaces have so far been identified in the archaeological record. To what degree inferences about kings and courtiers based on their tombs would be corroborated by evidence from other contexts is difficult to say. However, it would be wrong to disregard the available material as reflecting only ideology or funerary concepts. A more productive approach is to understand elite culture, or “high culture,” as a discourse with its own dynamics and practices articulated predominantly in Old Kingdom funerary contexts but embracing non-​funerary themes as well.11

10. Chartier 1988; Bonnell and Biernacki 1999; Burke 2004. 11. Baines and Yoffee 1998.

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The following paragraphs are not much concerned with the history of the state, the administration, and the complex system of rank at court, studied extensively on the basis of prosopography.12 Rather, here the aim is to outline the diachronic development of the courtly milieu as a whole.13 Kingship is embedded in and at the center of court society, which is why the two phenomena are best discussed together.14 The Old Kingdom is particularly susceptible to being interpreted in terms of sacred kingship because of the superhuman monumentality of royal pyramids and because kings of the Old Kingdom were designated netjer, a word conventionally translated as “god” in English. At the level of iconography, kings and gods are depicted with similar attributes that set them apart from others. However, royal epithets and activities differ from those of deities. Kings appear not to have been gods but only to have interacted with them face to face. Overall, Old Kingdom monuments focus on demonstrating what the king is, whereas there is little presentation of what a deity is beyond his or her relationship to the king. Speculative thought was dominated by “royalogy” much more than by “theology,” a realm of discourse that unfolded only in the later religious history of Egypt.15 Earlier discussions of sacred kingship in anthropology and Egyptology culminated in Henri Frankfort’s comparative Kingship and the Gods.16 Despite the merits of this book, its weak consideration of historical context and the imbalance of religious and monumental evidence used for Egypt, in opposition to its use of administrative texts for Mesopotamia, make it a difficult source for modeling kingship in the Old Kingdom and its development through time.

12. Baer 1960; Kanawati 1977; Strudwick 1985. 13. “Court society” is defined in this chapter as the community at court, following Elias 1969. 14. Bárta 2013. 15. Assmann 1983. 16. Frankfort 1948; critique and fresh comparative discussions:  Wengrow 1999; Brisch 2008; Hill et al. 2013.

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Wolfgang Helck believed that the prehistoric ancestors of Egyptian kings were purely divine beings and only descended into the world of humans during the Old Kingdom, when the state became increasingly complex and power had to be shared with non-​royal officials.17 His argument has been extended into the Middle Kingdom by scholars who have argued that the explanation of kingship in Middle Kingdom literature reflects a growing mistrust in an institution that was uncontested during the Old Kingdom.18 While the negotiation of kingship in literary texts might indeed reflect a higher degree of contestation, archaeological and pictorial evidence from the Old Kingdom shows that kingship evolved throughout the third millennium bc and that different options for thinking about kingship were already available at that time.19 Unlike Helck, the anthropologist Declan Quigley has argued that kings have to be actively made into beings of a different order, often in ways that may seem irrational, for example, by overloading them with gold and jewelry or not allowing them to touch the ground.20 Kings may not be involved in political decision-​making, yet they still represent the cosmic and ritual well-​being of society, reigning rather than ruling. According to Quigley, social ties, for example to their families, can be severed so that all members of society are able to relate equally to the king. Quigley’s model may not describe Old Kingdom kingship very well. Royal family ties, for example, remained important throughout the Old Kingdom.21 The available sources tell us very little about the role of kings in day-​to-​day political business, not even in the New Kingdom, for which source material is more abundant.22 However, Quigley has raised the question that forms the analytical focus of the following outline: How was the king positioned in relation to others? In particular, 17. Helck 1954. 18. Posener 1956; Assmann 1990: 54–​57. 19. Baines 1997; Stockfisch 2003. 20. Quigley 2005. 21. Baud 1999. 22. Bickel 2002. I am grateful to John Baines for suggesting this reference to me.

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how were new relationships established and negotiated between kings and gods on the one hand, and kings and courtiers on the other? The iconographic display of Egyptian kingship is attested at least as early as the Narmer Palette, dedicated to the falcon god Horus, from the temple precinct of Hierakonpolis in Upper Egypt. On one side of the palette, the king is represented facing a falcon figure, and his name is written in a serekh (rectangle representing a palace facade) surmounted with a depiction of Horus. On the reverse side, the king is shown with distinct royal regalia, accompanied by his courtiers depicted on a smaller scale. This arrangement is paralleled in the spatial organization of the royal tombs of the First Dynasty at Abydos. Each tomb is surrounded by rows of subsidiary burial chambers of equal size. Similar arrangements are known from non-​royal tombs, such as those at Saqqara, Naqada, Tarkhan, Giza, and Abu Rawash. If one considers all the Early Dynastic material together, setting aside potentially conflicting evidence, the relationship between the king and the gods is not entirely explicit. It may be described as an association of the reigning king with Horus in the case of the Narmer Palette. Comparatively speaking, the relationship to the courtiers is clearer. The king is embedded in the community of the courtiers, who are imagined as being equal, or almost so, among one another regardless of their actual age, gender, or position at court. The imitation of royal funerary arrangements by non-​royal individuals suggests that the relationship kings had to their courtiers was not an exclusively royal model. The situation changed significantly at the beginning of the Third Dynasty. The step pyramid of king Djoser at Saqqara has no equal in the country. It is set in a large plaza lined with dummy chapels and used for the sed-​festival, a ritual to celebrate kingship. The plaza continues a tradition of similar open courts known since the late Predynastic period.23 Scenes of the ritual displayed on panels in the subterranean chambers below the pyramid depict rituals of the sed-​festival that were probably performed in this open courtyard. The panels show the king standing in

23. McNamara 2008.

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front of chapels identical to those that line the plaza above ground.24 The chapels and the depiction of standards and falcons surrounding the king imply divine presence. Fragments of a small shrine dedicated by Djoser in the temple of Heliopolis show the king seated with his wife and daughter facing a group of gods.25 The deities hand over life, dominion, sed-​festivals, and other royal prerogatives to the king. They probably belong to the “Heliopolitan Ennead,” a group of nine deities from different generations beginning with the sun god Atum, who created the world, and ending with Horus, the reigning king. The decoration of the shrine asserts emphatically that kingship is derived from the gods. Moreover, it presents the world of the gods as structured around kingship. In other words, the institution of kingship was divinized as much as the gods were royalized. During the Fourth Dynasty, the pyramid and court cemeteries moved more than 70 km from Meidum in the south to Dahshur, Giza, and Abu Rawash in the north, then back to Giza and finally to Saqqara.26 Since the location of the royal palace and the living quarters of the courtiers is not known, it is difficult to say whether the courtiers lived where they were buried and whether this influenced the choice for the location of the corresponding royal cemetery.27 However, the migration indicates that court society was relatively mobile and not yet as intimately tied to a place as it was in later dynasties. Khufu, the second king of the Fourth Dynasty, built a gigantic pyramid at Giza surrounded by smaller pyramids for the queens, very large tombs for the princes to the east, and smaller tombs for other courtiers to the west of the pyramid.28 Differing from the royal tombs of the First Dynasty, the Giza cemetery embodies a ranked court community. Khufu restricted the tomb decorations of courtiers to only a simple slab

24. Friedman  1995. 25. Smith 1949: 132–​137. 26. Bárta 2005. 27. Moeller 2016, 158–​161. 28. Jánosi 2005.

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mounted above the offering niche. Hermann Junker coined the term “austere style” to describe the appearance of the tombs.29 According to Junker, all attention was meant to be directed toward the pyramid of the king rather than to the splendor of his courtiers. Later additions, changes, and the use of tombs by individuals different from those for whom they were planned demonstrate the difference between the imagined model and actual practice. Social engineering, as reflected in the Khufu cemetery, looked back to similar attempts under his predecessor Sneferu, but it does not seem to have been a standard practice in later dynasties.30 Major social processes at the royal court of the Fourth Dynasty can be recognized in the centralization and stratification of the core elite. On the level of ideology, royal names refer increasingly to the sun god Ra. The designation of the king as “son of Ra,” later a popular royal title, is first attested in the reign of Radjedef and implies a subordinate position of the king to the sun god. A group of statues from the valley temple of Menkaura show the king flanked by the goddess Hathor and deities symbolizing a nome.31 Nome symbols followed by female offering bearers, each representing a royal domain, are also displayed on the earlier reliefs in the valley temple of king Sneferu. Nomes and domains were thus the entities by which the crown conceptualized and shaped the hinterland of Egypt for the purposes of taxation and funding the royal mortuary cult. Whereas in the early Old Kingdom the deceased kings were provisioned with offerings placed in their burial apartments, the focus shifted in the Fourth Dynasty toward the mortuary cult carried out after the funeral.32 The Fifth Dynasty marks a turning point in the history of kingship and the court on various levels. The kings of this dynasty built sun temples close to their pyramids to strengthen their ties to Ra. Given the tradition of associating the royal tomb with structures for celebrating kingship, the sun temples are perhaps best understood as cultic arenas

29. Junker 1940: 74–​81. 30. Stadelmann 1995. 31. Friedman 2015. 32. Roth 1993.

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for the king to encounter the sun god during the sed-​festival.33 They feature prominently in the papyrus archives of the mortuary cult for kings Neferirkara and Raneferef, buried at Abusir.34 The documents shed light on the network of institutions and officials who provided and received food at court, as well as giving an indication of the cultic activities performed during the daily offering ritual and at various festivals throughout the year.35 By the Fifth Dynasty, the royal mortuary cult had become the major engine for the economic integration of the country.36 The decoration of the pyramid complex of Sahura, the best-​preserved example of the Fifth Dynasty, offers further insights into the relationship of the king to the gods. Processions of deities, of the “souls of Heliopolis,” of divine figures personifying the inundation, and of domains and nomes were probably directed toward the king. The king is depicted celebrating the sed-​festival, being suckled by Nekhbet—​the patron goddess of Upper Egypt, who is accompanied in this scene by the ram-​headed god Khnum (see figure 7.2, left)—​and making offerings to the goddess Bastet, a rare instance in the Old Kingdom of the king giving to a deity rather than receiving benefits from him or her. The explicitness of the preserved images, which represent only a fraction of the decorative program in the pyramid complex of Sahura, can perhaps be interpreted as a response to conflicting views on the relationship between the king and the gods. The increased use of images reflects an intention to codify which interpretation was officially sanctioned, and which alternative options were excluded. Other scenes present the king in relation to his courtiers. Sahura is shown coming forth with his sons and other officials, represented on a small scale behind him (see figure 7.2, right), hunting in the desert, fishing, and fowling in the papyrus marshes, in addition to scenes of slaughtering cattle for the funerary offering, and ritual dancers. Some of these

33. Nuzzolo 2015. 34. Posener-​Kriéger 1976; Posener-​Kriéger et al. 2006. 35. Vymazalova 2001. 36. Helck 1975: 45–​51.

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Figure 7.2.  Wall decoration in the pyramid temple of Sahura, Fifth Dynasty. Left: King Sahura suckled by the goddess Nekhbet, behind her the ram-​headed god Khnum; another female figure on the left, presumably a goddess. Right: King Sahura emerging; behind him in three rows princes and other high officials. After Borchardt 1913: Blatt 18 and 33. Courtesy Deutsche Orientgesellschaft.

scenes belong to the repertoire of the tomb decoration of courtiers.37 This overlap may hint at a stronger competition between kings and high-​ ranking officials in the Fifth Dynasty. Seen in this light, the combined representation of kings and a selected range of courtiers sent out a twofold message: it honored the courtiers depicted but also demonstrated their subordination to the king. The “sole companion of the king” and “royal hairdresser” Ty is an example of a very high-​ranking official of the Fifth Dynasty. He held the titles “keeper of the secret of the morning house,” “keeper of the secret at the places of the palace,” and “keeper of the secret of the secret speeches of the god’s word.”38 Offerings for the deceased Ty were placed in front of a niched false door inscribed with his name and titles. The false door is located in the inner part of the accessible area of the tomb, next to a chamber with small windows, a serdab, which originally contained a statue of Ty. The wall scenes in the corridor, in the court, and on the

37. Harpur 1987. 38. Épron et al. 1939; Wild 1953; 1966.

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