A sudden, and inscrutable, Bronze Age catastrophe.
May 12, 2014, Vol. 19, No. 33 • By SUSAN KRISTOL
Cline evaluates theories from a host of academics. He dutifully discusses systems collapse, complexity theory, and “hyper-coherence,” only to conclude that “it sounds nice, but does it really advance our understanding? Is it more than just a fancy way to state a fairly obvious fact, namely, that complicated things can break down in a variety of ways?”
Much more interesting is the description of what made the Late Bronze Age something to write home about. And write they did: There are archives full of clay tablets in Linear B and cuneiform script, in early Greek, Akkadian, and Hittite (interestingly, the earliest known Indo-European language), and an abundance of Egyptian hieroglyphics. The tablets contain detailed records of royal marriages, battles, and peace treaties, such as an account of the Battle of Qadesh in 1274 b.c. and the ensuing peace treaty. (Originally inscribed on two silver tablets in Egyptian and Akkadian and still extant in ancient stone and clay versions, the words of the treaty currently adorn the entrance to the United Nations Security Council.) Or this heartrending letter from someone in the kingdom of Ugarit:
We study ancient history and archaeology for a variety of salutary reasons. General Allenby, for instance, claimed that he beat the Germans and Turks at Megiddo in 1918 because he had read a translation of Thutmose III’s account of his victory there in 1479 b.c. But sometimes ancient history is just fun, because it reminds us that many material aspects of life haven’t changed all that much in more than 3,000 years. As Cline tells us, an Akkadian tablet from 1750 b.c. discusses a Mesopotamian king’s use of ice in his summer drinks, which included beer, wine, and “fermented barley-based drinks flavored with either pomegranate juice or licorice-like aniseed.” Another tablet from the period mentions a “pair of leather shoes in the Caphtorian style” that were sent to the king of Babylon but were returned. The Minoan and Mycenaean word for sesame is “sa-sa-ma, coming from the Ugaritic word ššmn, the Akkadian word šammaššammu, and the Hurrian word sumisumi.”
Cline calls this period “the first truly global age.” A wrecked ship from 1300 b.c., discovered in 1982 off the Turkish coast at Uluburun, contained objects from at least seven different countries: copper from Cyprus, ebony from Nubia, raw glass ingots from Mesopotamia, terebinth resin in Canaanite storage vessels, a small bronze and gold statue of a Canaanite deity, a stone scepter-mace from the Balkans, Egyptian scarabs, and tin and lapis lazuli from Afghanistan. The sheer wealth of these empires, their global reach, their treaties and their trade agreements, command our respect, even if their cultures seem not to have contributed much, at least not directly, to future developments in religion, art, science, philosophy, literature, or technology.
Which leads us back to our original question: Does the collapse of Late Bronze Age civilizations make a difference to us, or is it just a historical curiosity? Cline mentions the 2008 banking crisis and the possibility of devastating climate change as evidence that our own civilization could crumble at any moment. He doesn’t mention, but we can hardly forget, the terrorists who daily plot to destroy the West—perhaps the equivalent of those marauding Sea Peoples of the Bronze Age.
The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission recently reported that if just nine electric-transmission substations were destroyed in the United States, we could be plunged into a national power outage lasting weeks or even months—perhaps not enough to destroy our civilization, but surely a calamity worth pondering. Civilizational collapse could happen to us; but aside from voting for bank reform, funding the defense budget, buying a Prius, studying subsistence farming, and joining the NRA, it’s not clear what we might do to prevent it or survive it.
The end of the Bronze Age may be most interesting to us for what was to emerge on the far side. After a period of relative chaos, the Mediterranean world reorganized itself. Some of the products of this new age were the Homeric epics, ancient Israel, the widespread use of iron, the democratic city-state, private mercantile enterprise, and the prototype of the alphabet we use today.
In a sense, we of the Information Age are still living in an extension of the Iron Age. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.
Susan Kristol, a classicist, lives in Northern Virginia.