![The Marlborough Antinous, ca. 130–138 AD [2800x2000]](https://preview.redd.it/3uxjla4w6fkh1.png?auto=webp&s=e095828df64929223a4ce52c80b08ab5989b8892)
The Marlborough Antinous - a Roman black chalcedony intaglio portrait created circa AD 130–138, depicting Antinous, Emperor Hadrian's favourite. Carved from deep black chalcedony and mounted in a modern gold setting, it was formerly part of the Giorgio Sangiorgi Collection before being acquired by the J. Paul Getty Museum.
A thousand years later, chariots raced around the still-lying sculpture in honor of a friend who died before his time. The competitors had never heard of the Hittites.
What happens to the work of empire when the empire disappears?
Read the full story here: https://survivingtheflood.substack.com/p/monuments-and-quarries
Around 1200 BCE, a sweeping catastrophe engulfed the Eastern Mediterranean as great empires collapsed in fire and ruin within a few short decades. Droughts, famines, and raiders erased many thriving urban centres across Greece, Anatolia, and the Levant. Hattusa, the proud Hittite capital, was completely abandoned, while the wealthy Syrian port of Ugarit burned to the ground (Cline, 2014). To the west, across the Aegean Sea, the fragile network of Mycenaean palatial seats fractured under intense regional pressure. At least, that is the common perception. Yet hundreds of kilometres to the east, geographically isolated in the open waters of the Levantine Basin, a surprising historical exception emerged. The island of Cyprus did not perish. Instead, its coastal cities entered an extraordinary era of economic growth and industrial transformation.
This dramatic contrast presents historians with a bit of a mystery. Cyprus was certainly not an isolated refuge sheltered from regional turmoil. On the contrary, its economy depended almost entirely on long-distance maritime trade. The island was the Mediterranean's primary supplier of oxhide ingots, massive, standardised thirty-kilogram slabs of raw copper shipped directly to foreign palaces (Knapp, 2014). When these royal customers vanished almost overnight, the Cypriot economy should have suffered immediate bankruptcy and total collapse.
Instead, coastal centres like Enkomi, Kition (modern day Larnaca), and Palaepaphos (modern day Kouklia) expanded rapidly throughout the Late Cypriot IIIA period (c. 1200–1100 BCE). While some sites experienced brief destruction horizons, likely caused by localised earthquakes, pirate raids, or internal factional skirmishes, these were short-lived setbacks rather than fatal conquests (Knapp, 2014). Local populations quickly cleared away the rubble, constructed grand ashlar masonry buildings, and reorganised their metalworking workshops (Karageorghis, 1992). Rather than crumbling alongside many of the mainland monarchies, Cypriot merchants adapted with remarkable speed.
How did a small, resource-dependent island flourish when much of the rest of the Bronze Age world fell apart?
To understand Cyprus, we have to look back far beyond the collapse. Located 320 kilometres south of Anatolia and roughly the same distance from the Syrian coast, the island enjoyed a unique geographical position. From its earliest Neolithic settlements, this marine insulation allowed Cypriot society to chart its own distinct historical course, somewhat detached from that of the Near Eastern mainland (Steel, 2004).
However, Cyprus possessed a natural asset that guaranteed it would not remain isolated for long: vast deposits of copper ore beneath the Troodos Mountains. Known in Near Eastern records as Alashiya (or Alasia), the island became the Bronze Age world's primary source of copper and metallurgical expertise (Knapp, 2013). By the 19th century BCE, Cypriot miners were extracting high-grade ore at sites like Ambelikou-Aletri (Kassianidou, 2012). Petrographic analysis of royal letters from Amarna confirms that Alashiya was supplying bulk copper to Egypt and Ugarit (Goren et al., 2003). The analysis proved that the clay physically originated from the margins of the Troodos Mountains in Cyprus. The massive 14^(th) century BCE Uluburun shipwreck, carrying over ten tonnes of Cypriot copper ingots, serves as proof of the island's international reach (Pulak, 2008).
This vast mineral wealth shaped how Cypriot political power evolved. Rather than giving rise to a single autocratic state, the wide distribution of copper ores across the island fostered a polycentric mosaic of independent kingdoms and city-states, including Enkomi, Kition, Palaepaphos, Alassa, and Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios (Keswani, 2004; Knapp, 2014). While surrounding empires relied on rigid, centralised monarchies, whether the Hittite Great King, Egyptian Pharaoh, or the Mycenaean wanax (king), Cypriot regional centres competed for copper access and maritime outlets. Although some scholars argue that Enkomi briefly functioned as a paramount capital (Peltenburg, 1996), or that the Hittites claimed nominal suzerainty late in the 13th century BCE (Bryce, 1998), local rulers, such as King Kushmeshusha of Enkomi, maintained direct control over their own commercial networks.
Ironically, this pre-collapse Cypriot regime closely mirrors the political systems that mainland sites were forced to adopt after the catastrophe. When the 1200 BCE crisis destroyed the top-heavy palaces of mainland Greece, surviving centres like Tiryns, Athens, and Lefkandi only survived by "de-complexifying", shedding their rigid royal bureaucracies and reorganising into decentralised, regional networks led by local chieftains (basileis).
When the royal palace markets across the Mediterranean vanished around 1200 BCE, Cypriot merchants altered their operational strategy. During the peak of the Late Bronze Age, shipping had relied on state-sponsored bulk transport. Heavy merchant galleys moved massive cargoes of copper oxhide ingots directly between royal court officials (Pulak, 2008). As those imperial court orders stopped overnight, Cypriot captains abandoned this high-overhead transport system.
Instead, island traders adopted a maritime strategy centred on cabotage, a system of short-range coastal trade, hopping rapidly from port to port (Tartaron, 2013). Rather than risking large, expensive vessels on long open-sea voyages to single imperial ports, Cypriot sailors used smaller, versatile craft. They navigated along the shorelines of the Levant, Egypt, and the Aegean islands, docking at informal anchorages and surviving coastal towns.
These post-collapse Cypriot fleets carried a diversified array of private trade goods rather than state-controlled raw materials. Ships transported local wheel-made ceramics, luxury scented oils, fine bronze tripod stands, and recycled scrap metal (Sherratt, 2000). Physical proof of this trade comes from 12th-century BCE shipwrecks like Cape Gelidonya and Point Iria (Bass, 1967; Lolos, 2003). While Gelidonya carried scrap bronze, tinker’s tools, and weight sets for local bartering, Point Iria held a mixed cargo of Cypriot storage jars and Cretan oil containers destined for Argolid roadsteads like Tiryns. By trading directly with emerging local warlords and chieftains across the region, Cypriot merchants fulfilled a growing demand for status items in a changing world.
Older historical accounts blamed the Bronze Age Collapse on violent 'Sea Peoples' or invading Mycenaean armies. At first glance, Cyprus seemed dangerously exposed to sea-borne raiders. Yet excavations at sites like Enkomi and Palaepaphos reveal a far more nuanced reality. Enkomi dominated the eastern seaboard (facing the Levant), and Palaepaphos anchored the southwest (facing the Aegean and Egypt). Palaepaphos provides some of the strongest archaeological evidence for the peaceful integration of Aegean migrants. Destruction layers certainly exist in both locations, but they were localised and followed immediately by ambitious rebuilding projects. At Palaepaphos, for example, locals and migrants collaborated to construct the monumental ashlar Sanctuary of the Great Goddess right at the height of the regional crisis, proving that cultural mixing led to architectural triumphs rather than destruction. Instead of total destruction, the island experienced a wave of human migration and peaceful integration.
A more sinister explanation for the ‘Sea Peoples’ is that the protected bays on Cyprus served as operational bases for groups of pirates, specifically the Sherden. If so, they were perfectly positioned to attack the coastal towns of Anatolia, the Levant, and Egypt. A modern-day parallel would be the Barbary Coast of North Africa, where corsairs were given protection by the local leaders of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli in exchange for a portion of the spoils. This mutually beneficial arrangement allowed the Barbary pirates to scourge the Mediterranean from the 16th to the 19th centuries CE. In the 12th century BCE, Cypriot merchant princes likely struck a similar bargain, turning the era's greatest maritime threat into a lucrative, defensive asset (Sherratt, 1998).
The material culture of the era strongly supports this Cypriot-pirate alliance. Egyptian reliefs from the reign of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu famously depict the Sherden Sea Peoples wearing distinct horned helmets and carrying small, round shields (Emanuel, 2013). This exact martial iconography is mirrored almost identically in the Nuragic bronzetti statuettes of Sardinia, cementing the modern academic consensus that the Sherden and the Sardinians were either the same people or closely linked (Ugas, 2016).
Supporting this view, this same visual language appears in Cyprus. The famous 'Ingot God' of Enkomi also wears a horned helmet and wields a small, round shield, a style popularised in the Aegean by the time of the Trojan War (Sandars, 1987). It is highly probable that Sardinian mercenaries and pirates adopted this specific panoply after seeing deities like the Ingot God in the sanctuaries of their Cypriot hosts. By offering their island bays as sanctuaries to Sherden raiders, Cypriot elites integrated foreign muscle into their society, neutralizing the Sea Peoples as a destructive force and ensuring the island's survival while the rest of the Eastern Mediterranean burned.
As mainland palatial networks broke down, diverse populations from Greece, Crete, and the Levant migrated across the sea for a variety of reasons. Some were escaping localised drought and crop failures, others fled the aftermath of earthquakes or political retribution following civil uprisings, while many simply sought fresh economic opportunities in surviving coastal ports. Cypriot hubs acted as demographic sponges, absorbing these migrating groups and their families. These newcomers brought valuable industrial skills, including advanced pottery styles and fine stonemasonry. Local workshops soon produced distinct Mycenaean-style pottery crafted directly from Cypriot clay (Karageorghis, 1990). At the same time, builders adopted ashlar masonry, large, smoothly squared stone blocks, to construct grand public buildings.
Rather than fighting off foreign arrivals, Cypriot merchant elites integrated them directly into local society. Foreign warriors served as local mercenaries, while migrant craftspeople joined thriving urban workshops (Sherratt, 1998). This cultural mixing created a dynamic, multi-ethnic population capable of weathering regional chaos.
Uncovered in 1963 beneath the ash and beaten-earth floors of a 12th-century BCE sanctuary at Enkomi, the famous "Ingot God" statuette presents a fascinating chronological and technological paradox (Courtois, 1971). While Enkomi’s smiths were increasingly forced to forge utilitarian iron tools to survive the era's severe tin shortages, this thirty-five-centimetre bronze deity stands proudly atop a thirty-kilogram copper oxhide ingot (Knapp, 1986). This apparent contradiction is resolved by understanding the dual economy of post-collapse Cyprus. Iron became the gritty metal of practical survival, but raw copper remained the foundational currency of elite wealth and international cabotage trade. Many archaeologists suggest the statuette was actually cast prior to the regional collapse and carefully curated as a sacred heirloom, a nostalgic, divine anchor to the golden age of imperial trade (Webb, 1999).
Regardless of its exact casting date, the Ingot God’s presence in a post-collapse sanctuary reveals how Cypriot elites managed the crisis. As the old Mycenaean and Hittite trade monopolies dissolved, the local commercial oligarchies of Enkomi needed to maintain control over a rapidly changing, multi-ethnic workforce of migrant craftspeople (Kassianidou, 2005). By venerating a martial deity physically fused with a copper ingot, the elites sanctified the island's primary economic resource. Even as practical iron knives replaced degrading bronze in the fields, the copper ingot remained the ideological symbol of Cypriot resilience, reassuring the populace that their metallurgical heritage would endure the collapse of the Bronze Age world.
As Cypriot merchants expanded their cabotage networks westward to Sardinia, they successfully tapped into the Atlantic Bronze Age pipeline. Through Sardinian middlemen, a trickle of tin from Brittany and Cornwall began to flow back east into the Mediterranean, replacing the severed overland routes from Central Asia (Stos-Gale, 2011). Isotopic analysis of late-era ingots found in the Levant confirms that Western European tin did indeed reach the eastern shores. However, for the general economy of the Eastern Mediterranean, this western tin arrived too little, too late.
By the time this new supply chain was established, the pyrotechnological genie was already out of the bottle. Cypriot and Aegean smiths had already mastered the higher-temperature furnaces required to forge utilitarian iron. Because iron ore was abundant and locally available across the eastern mainland and islands, it freed societies from the geopolitical vulnerability of long-distance metal imports. The new influx of western tin allowed the Cypriots to resume casting luxury bronze items, such as the elaborate tripod stands and religious heirlooms revered by the elites, but it could not reverse the broader industrial revolution (Muhly, 2003). The technological threshold had been crossed. Iron was too practical, too abundant, and too strategically secure to abandon, cementing the Eastern Mediterranean's transition into the Iron Age.
The striking resemblance between the Enkomi Ingot God and the Nuragic bronzetti (small bronze warrior figurines from Sardinia) is a major topic of discussion among Mediterranean archaeologists. Scholars frequently describe the stylistic parallels, such as the horned helmets, martial postures with raised weapons, and the use of greaves, as an "uncanny resemblance" that points to deep ideological and material connections across the Mediterranean during the Final Bronze Age.
This stylistic overlap was not a coincidence; it was carried on the backs of merchant ships. Prior to the collapse, Cyprus was exporting massive quantities of copper directly to Sardinia. Fragments of Cypriot oxhide ingots, the same shape as the one the Enkomi deity stands upon, have been found scattered across Nuragic sanctuaries and hoards. Along with this raw metal, Cypriot merchants seemingly exported their metallurgical iconography. The Sardinian elites, who were developing their own bronze-working traditions, readily adopted and localized this eastern imagery, resulting in the famous Nuragic warrior statuettes.
The earliest bronzetti date to the 12^(th) century BCE. Their manufacture continued on Sardinia until the 9^(th) or 8^(th) centuries BCE. Unlike the eastern Mediterranean, the tin supplies to Sardinia, from Brittany and Cornwall had not been disrupted by the collapse of the empires in the east.
Anthropologists note a fascinating difference in how these symbols were used. In Cyprus, as embodied by the Ingot God, copper ingots were associated with the exclusive, elite control of the metallurgical industry (Blake, 2014). In Sardinia, the Cypriot ingots and the resulting bronzetti circulated much more fluidly through regional networks. Nuragic society lacked the centralised palaces of the East; instead, these figurines were deposited as votive offerings at communal holy wells and sanctuaries, reinforcing social cohesion rather than oligarchic dominance. Thus, while the visual style of the Ingot God travelled west, its political meaning was entirely adapted to fit Sardinian society.
While Cyprus sat atop rich copper deposits, it lacked an essential ingredient for making bronze, tin. Durable bronze required mixing nine parts copper with one part imported tin. When long-distance trade routes collapsed, foreign tin shipments vanished completely. Without tin, soft copper alone was useless for crafting reliable tools or weapons. Repeatedly remelting old scrap bronze eventually burned away the remaining tin, degrading the alloy's strength. The island's entire industrial economy faced paralysis.
Faced with this dilemma, Cypriot smiths turned to a local resource, iron ore. Rich deposits of haematite and gossan, iron-heavy minerals, lay exposed throughout the nearby Troodos Mountains. Working iron required far higher temperatures and complex forging techniques compared to smelting bronze. To overcome these obstacles, metalworkers constructed new furnaces inside urban workshops across the island (Sherratt, 1994). Rather than abandoning their trade, they adapted their pyrotechnic skills to master an unfamiliar metal.
Excavations at Enkomi and Kition reveal how quickly urban centres transformed their facilities. Artisans repurposed former public buildings into busy industrial quarters. Archaeologists uncovered stone moulds, slag heaps, and clay tuyères, blowpipe nozzles used to pump air into furnace fires (Muhly, 2003). These early smiths did not forge luxury ornaments or royal status symbols. They produced functional, utilitarian tools like iron sickles, knives, and wood-cutting blades equipped with bronze rivets.
By developing iron tools to replace those manufactured from tin-starved bronze, Cyprus pioneered a major technological leap (Waldbaum, 1999). This crisis-driven ingenuity illustrated how resource scarcity sparks industrial innovation. Far from being a passive victim of trade breakdown, 12^(th) century BCE Cyprus became the birthplace of practical iron working in the Mediterranean world.
When one looks at the eastern Mediterranean timeline for the adoption of iron technology over bronze, an interesting pattern emerges. Cypriot smiths were the first to produce iron knives and sickles, around 1200 BCE (Sherratt 1994). Functional iron tools were found at Tiryns and Perati in the Mycenean sphere of influence dated to barely ten years later, around 1190 BCE (Waldbaum 1999). This raises the question of technology transfer between Cyprus and the Aegean, since we have already established trading contact between the two, or simultaneous innovation.
The survival and expansion of Cyprus during the Bronze Age Collapse was the result of structural resilience, economic flexibility, and technological foresight. Whether the combination was pure luck, strategic planning or a combination of the two is a moot point.
Six key factors explain why the island navigated the catastrophe of 1177 BCE and maintained continuous development:
Pre-Adapted Political Regime: Centuries before the crisis, Cyprus had established a polycentric, regional structure, the same system that surviving mainland sites like Tiryns, Athens, and Lefkandi were later forced to adopt. Because Cyprus was already operating at this resilient scale, it experienced no systemic crash, allowing uninterrupted urban growth while chaos reigned elsewhere.
Decentralised Merchant Governance: Operating through autonomous, competing coastal city-states led by pragmatic commercial oligarchies rather than a single autocratic wanax meant there was no central regime whose fall could trigger a state-wide collapse.
Maritime Agility: Switching from imperial bulk shipping to flexible, short-range cabotage (coastal trade) kept trade routes alive across the Eastern Mediterranean (Tartaron, 2013).
Industrial Innovation: Mastering local iron working in response to the tin shortage allowed Cypriot smiths to supply essential tools when bronze production failed (Sherratt, 1994).
Demographic Integration: Welcoming Aegean and Levantine refugees provided a steady supply of skilled craftspeople and warriors, revitalising local urban centres (Karageorghis, 1990).
Strategic Safe Havens: By operating as a "Barbary Coast" sanctuary for Sherden pirates, Cypriot elites successfully neutralized the era's greatest maritime threat. Transforming these fearsome Sea Peoples into allied mercenaries provided the island with formidable coastal protection and a lucrative share of the regional spoils.
Far from being an isolated victim, 12^(th) century BCE Cyprus became a commercial epicentre of the post-collapse Mediterranean. With the benefit of hindsight, by turning a regional disaster into an opportunity for innovation, the island successfully bridged the gap between the Late Bronze Age and the emerging Iron Age.
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Alexander the Great loved comparing himself to the heroes of mythology. He believed that he was destined for greatness and conquest of the known world. His mother, Olympias, instilled in him a sense of divine purpose, and Alexander came to believe that he was the son of Zeus and destined to conquer Persia. This belief was further reinforced when he was proclaimed the son of Zeus-Ammon after visiting the Oracle of Amun at Siwa in Egypt.
When he visited the Oracle at Delphi, the sanctuary was closed. Not taking no for an answer, Alexander reportedly dragged the Pythia, the priestess of Apollo, by her hair until she cried out, “You are invincible, my son!” Satisfied with the response, Alexander is said to have replied, “Now I have my answer.”
The Gordian Knot was another instance of such validation for Alexander that he was destined to become the ruler of Asia. According to the legend, the famous Gordian Knot was formed by fastening the yoke of a wagon to its pole. The wagon had been dedicated to Zeus by a Phrygian ruler named Gordius. According to Arrian, an ancient prophecy stated that whoever succeeded in untying the knot would become the ruler of Asia.
The challenge had reportedly remained unsolved for generations. However, Alexander approached the problem with an unconventional solution. The prophecy did not specify how the knot had to be untied. In the popular version of the story, Alexander drew his sword and sliced through the knot, effectively solving the challenge.
This episode perfectly showcases Alexander’s decisive and bold personality. Rather than allowing himself to be constrained by the conventional interpretation of a problem, he found his own solution and seized the initiative. The same qualities would become hallmarks of his military career, where he frequently took the initiative and dictated the pace of battle.
For more detailed information on the legend of the Gordian Knot and what actually happened at Gordium, please read the full article.
A lot of people think of ancient cities as quiet, white-marble utopias. They weren't. They were loud, smelly, and chaotic. New research into 'archaeoacoustics' shows that Romans had to deal with serious noise pollution from wagons on cobblestones-so much so that Caesar banned them during the day.
And the smells? It was a mix of luxury incense and rotting fish guts. Archaeologists are now using gas chromatography to identify the exact chemical signatures of these smells in old jars. We can literally recreate the perfume Cleopatra wore. History is a lot more 'human' when you realize they had the same noise and smell complaints we do today.
This travertine sarcophagus lid dates to the second half of the 4th century BCE (ca. 350–300 BCE) and originates from the Ponte Rotto necropolis in Vulci, Italy. It is housed at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Carved inscriptions identify Larth Tetnies (husband) and Thanchvil Tarnai (wife), alongside naming his parents, Arnth Tetnies and Ramtha Vishnai, whose own companion sarcophagus was found nearby.
The oldest surviving monumental building in the Abyssinian Highlands is the Great Temple of Yeha, constructed in the early 1st millennium BC. Remarkably, its stone walls still stand today, although what survives is only a shell of what was once a much larger structure.
Using a range of archaeological and academic sources, including the reconstructions and research published by the German Archaeological Institute, I have recreated both the interior and exterior of the Temple of Yeha in 3D.
For me, projects like this are important because they allow us to preserve, study, and visualise the architectural achievements of our ancestors.
You can explore the interactive 3D reconstruction here: https://www.habeshahistory.com/reconstructions/yeha-temple
For those interested in learning more about Yeha, I have also written a detailed article covering its history, including a dedicated section on the Great Temple itself: https://www.habeshahistory.com/articles/yeha
Hopefully you find the reconstruction interesting and learn something new...
Through years of victory and carefully orchestrated propoganda, the Spartan hoplites were considered the invincible force of the Greek world. Spartan dominance was finally challenged by Thebes who sought more control over the Boeotian league. This would ultimately cause the two powers to clash resulting in the Battle Of Leuctra.
Although outnumbered, the Thebans under Epaminondas came up with a brilliant plan to break the Spartan hoplites. Now called as the echelon formation, the Thebans arrayed their army in an angled formation. Their left wing was enormously deep and comprised of his best troops including the Sacred Band. They faced off against the best of the Spartan troops and their king Cleombrotus I. The right wing of the Thebans were placed further back in an angled manner in order to delay the clash.
The plan was to engage and crush the Spartan right wing with concentrated force before the weaker Theban right wing could be overwhelmed. The Theban cavalry routed the Spartan horsemen and caused confusion among the Spartan infantry. Using the chaos the Thebans overpowered the Spartans and killed their King.
With the death of the Spartan King, the rest of the army breaks and the Thebans won a decisive victory. The victory in Leuctra cements the rise of Thebes and breaks the myth of Spartan invincibility.
The ancient city of Tiryns presents a fascinating historical paradox. Around 1200 BCE, a massive disaster of fire and earthquake destroyed its great palace. Yet, unlike nearby Pylos, which people abandoned entirely, Tiryns survived. Instead of disappearing into obscurity, the city underwent a dramatic transformation. While its central government collapsed, the town below the fortress actually grew. It absorbed refugees and reorganized its economy to become one of the largest thriving urban centres of its era.
Understanding why Tiryns survived requires examining its location and regional political role. Sitting on a low limestone ridge in the northeastern Peloponnese, the fortress rose 18 metres above the Argive Plain (Hope Simpson, 1981). Today, the site lies inland near Nafplio. In the Late Bronze Age, however, Tiryns was a true coastal settlement. Before three millennia of river silting pushed the coastline seaward, the Argolic Gulf reached the marshlands surrounding the rock (Zangger, 1991).
During the Late Helladic IIIB period (c. 1300–1190 BCE), Tiryns formed part of a strategic triad of fortified citadels:
Mycenae (The Northern Pass): Controlled overland trade routes through the northern mountains toward the Isthmus of Corinth (Hope Simpson, 1981).
Midea (The Eastern Sentinel): Perched 270 metres high, Midea guarded overland routes across the peninsula to Epidaurus and overseen the interior agricultural plain (Demakopoulou et al., 1996). Its elite buried their dead at nearby Dendra, famous for its complete bronze armour.
Tiryns (The Maritime Gateway): Located on the coast, Tiryns functioned as the naval fortress and trade port for the entire region. Foreign luxuries, Levantine copper ingots, Baltic amber, and Cypriot bronzework, entered the Argolid through its harbour (Cline, 1994; Maran, 2004).
Tiryns was an administrative power in its own right. Its Upper Citadel housed a grand frescoed Megaron, court offices, archives, and massive stone walls with vaulted galleries capable of storing massive agricultural reserves (Iakovidis, 1983). Its position along eastern sea lanes linked the Peloponnese directly to the Cyclades, Crete, and the Near East (Dickinson, 2006).
Around 1200 BCE, severe fires destroyed the major citadels of the Argive Plain. At Mycenae and Midea, collapsed walls and crushed skeletons led early excavators to propose a regional "earthquake storm" (Nur and Cline, 2000). Heavy burn deposits and calcined stones also swept across Tiryns.
However, recent archaeoseismological studies suggest seismic activity was only a catalyst for a deeper socio-political collapse (Hinzen et al., 2018):
Targeted Palatial Destruction: Destruction was concentrated on the Upper Citadel, the Great Megaron and administrative core of the wanax (king). This pattern points to civil unrest or popular revolt triggered by severe drought and failing food distribution (Middleton, 2010).
Absence of Desertion: Unlike sites destroyed by foreign conquest, the local population did not flee. Residents cleared the rubble and immediately reoccupied the lower terraces.
Rapid Rebuilding: During early LH IIIC, workers built new houses and workshops directly over the destruction debris on the lower terraces and surrounding plain (Maran, 2002).
Continuity of Cult: Religious practice endured, modified to suit the new reality. Community leaders reorganised cult activities inside specialised shrines built into the defensive walls of the Lower Citadel (Kilian, 1981).
While the administrative power of the wanax vanished, the physical population of Tiryns grew to its historical peak. As a severe megadrought crippled agriculture across the Aegean, unfortified inland hamlets became unsustainable (Drake, 2012). Deprived of state grain reserves, rural families migrated to Tiryns for physical security, coastal resources, and freshwater infrastructure.
Sprawling Lower Town: The lower settlement expanded to 20–25 hectares during LH IIIC, making the post-palatial town far larger than its palatial predecessor (Maran, 2010). Applying standard survey benchmarks (100–200 people per hectare), the population swelled to between 2,500 and 4,000 residents.
High-Density Housing: Excavations revealed closely packed, multi-room mudbrick homes built along gravel roads, equipped with domestic hearths, storage pits, and drainage channels (Mühlenbruch, 2009).
Environmental catastrophe posed a severe threat to the expanding town. The LH IIIB2 earthquake altered local hydrology, causing the Manessi stream to breach its banks and threaten the Lower Town with flash floods.
To neutralise this hazard, the community undertook a massive hydraulic project at Kourtaki, four kilometres east of the citadel (Zangger, 1994):
Earthwork and Masonry: Engineers built a 10-metre-high, 300-metre-long dam made of hard packed soil and faced with massive stone blocks.
River Diversion: Workers dug a 1.5-kilometre canal that permanently diverted the stream southward into the Karachali riverbed.
Without this dam, regular flash flooding would have rendered the post-palatial Lower Town uninhabitable. Executing such a project during LH IIIC shows that post-palatial society at Tiryns retained advanced engineering skills and strong social cohesion without a central monarch.
Tiryns adapted its political structure to match its new reality. On the Upper Citadel, workers did not rebuild the grand Megaron. Instead, they erected a simpler, narrower hall known as Building VI inside the ruins of the old palace (Maran, 2001).
Scaled-Down Governance: Building VI incorporated a surviving palace wall, using an open hearth and a single row of roof supports.
Rise of the Basileus: This shift marks the transition from a divine wanax to a local warlord or chieftain (basileus). Leaders maintained authority through public feasting, gift exchange, and military prowess rather than written tax records (Maran, 2006).
Communal Feasting: Concentrations of drinking vessels, deep bowls, and animal bones around Building VI point to elite-sponsored feasts designed to unite the growing town.
This transition illustrates political de-complexification (Tainter, 1988). The pre-collapse palatial state was a high-overhead machine requiring massive crop surpluses. When drought destroyed those surpluses, shedding the expensive state superstructure was a rational survival strategy. Rather than total civilisational decay, this reversion acted as a societal reset. Returning to decentralised households (oikoi) provided the flexibility needed to survive climatic instability, unintentionally laying the groundwork for the future Greek polis (Deger-Jalkotzy, 2008).
In the Late Bronze Age, Aegean ports relied on natural coastal features rather than built masonry quays (Frost, 1989; Tartaron, 2013). Ships anchored in shallow, sheltered bays or ran aground on sandy beaches.
The transition from LH IIIB to LH IIIC changed the management of trade rather than ship logistics:
Pre-Collapse (LH IIIB): The palace-controlled landing zones and maintained guarded storehouses to tax incoming goods under a royal monopoly (Cline, 1994).
Post-Collapse (LH IIIC): Palatial customs vanished. Independent sailors, Levantine traders, and local elite families used the beachhead freely (Maran, 2004).
Following the collapse, trade shifted from royal monopolies to decentralised merchant networks. Finds of Canaanite storage jars show that Tiryns imported luxury items like resinated wine, olive oil, and honey from Cyprus and the Levant to support communal feasting (Knapp and Demesticha, 2016). For staple foods, plant remains show the town relied on local crops like barley, wheat, lentils, and bitter vetch (Kroll, 1982). Meanwhile, marine shells and fish bones in refuse pits reveal that residents supplemented their diet with coastal fishing and inshore scavenging (von den Driesch and Boessneck, 1990).
The Lower Citadel transformed into an active manufacturing quarter for textile dyeing, bone-working, and metalworking (Rahmstorf, 2008). Potters produced expressive regional styles, exporting pictorial kraters and stirrup jars across the Aegean (Mühlenbruch, 2009).
The breakdown of long-distance trade severed imports of raw tin from Central Asia and Anatolia. Because Greece lacks natural tin deposits, smiths could no longer produce fresh bronze. Metalworkers in the Lower Citadel responded by establishing scrap-recycling workshops inside former storage galleries, melting down broken tools and weapons (Rahmstorf, 2008). The smiths discovered that repeated remelting burns off tin, steadily weakening the alloy.
This tin shortage ultimately triggered the transition into the Iron Age:
Simultaneous Innovation: Functional iron tools found at Tiryns and Perati (c. 1190 BCE) disprove older theories that iron technology spread slowly from Cyprus and the Levant. Aegean smiths experimented with iron working simultaneously as a substitute for bronze (Waldbaum, 1999).
Two-Stage Evolution: Early 12th-century iron items were soft, uncarburised wrought iron used as temporary stopgaps. True steelmaking, involving carburisation, quenching, and tempering, developed later across the Mediterranean (Snodgrass, 1980).
Democratisation of Metallurgy: High-status graves from LH IIIC contain iron Naue II slashing swords and spearheads (Kilian-Dirlmeier, 2002). Metal weaponry was no longer restricted to a narrow chariot elite, reflecting a broader class of armed warriors supporting local chieftains.
Tiryns survived the Bronze Age collapse through a combination of physical and organisational advantages:
Coastal Access: Maritime connections enabled short-range coastal trade to exchange manufactured goods for food surpluses while supplementing diets with marine resources.
Fortification Security: Massive Cyclopean walls provided physical safety, attracting surrounding populations.
Civic Engineering: Constructing the Tiryns Dam prevented flood destruction, proving that civic organisation survived the palace.
Flexible Leadership: Replacing the bureaucratic wanax with local chieftains (basileis) allowed rapid social adaptation.
Metallurgical Innovation: Active trade links allowed local smiths to adopt iron technology quickly as bronze supplies failed.
Far from being a static ruin, 12th-century BCE Tiryns was a vibrant, sprawling town that successfully navigated the collapse of the Mycenaean world, bridging the gap into the Early Iron Age.
Cline, E.H. (1994) Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: International Trade and the Late Bronze Age Aegean. BAR International Series 591. Oxford: Tempus Reparatum.
Deger-Jalkotzy, S. (2008) 'Decline, Destruction, Aftermath', in Shelmerdine, C.W. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 387–415.
Demakopoulou, K., Divari-Valakou, N., Astrom, P. and Walberg, G. (1996) 'Excavations in Midea 1994–1995', Opuscula Atheniensia, 21, pp. 13–32.
Dickinson, O. (2006) The Aegean from Bronze Age to Iron Age: Continuity and Change Between the Twelfth and Eighth Centuries BC. London: Routledge.
Drake, B.L. (2012) 'The influence of climatic change on the Late Bronze Age Collapse and the Greek Dark Ages', Journal of Archaeological Science, 39(6), pp. 1862–1870.
Finke, E.A. (1988) Landscape Evolution and Soil Erosion in the Argolid Nuclear Zone, Greece. PhD Dissertation, Stanford University.
Frost, F.J. (1989) 'The Anatomy of Athenian Sea Power', The American Journal of Philology, 110(1), pp. 102–111.
Hinzen, K.-G., Schweppe, G., Wetzel, S. and Reamer, S.K. (2018) 'Reassessing the Mycenaean Earthquake Hypothesis: Results of the HERACLES Project from Tiryns and Midea, Greece', Bulletin of the Seismological Society of America, 108(3A), pp. 1046–1070.
Hope Simpson, R. (1981) Mycenaean Greece. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum.
Iakovidis, S.E. (1983) Late Helladic Citadels on Mainland Greece. Leiden: E.J. Brill.
Kilian, K. (1981) 'Zeugnisse mykenischer Kultausübung in Tiryns', in Hägg, R. and Marinatos, N. (eds) Sanctuaries and Cults in the Aegean Bronze Age. Stockholm: Paul Åströms Förlag, pp. 49–58.
Kilian, K. (1988) 'Mycenaeans Up to Date: Trends and Changes in Recent Mycenaean Archaeology', in French, E.B. and Wardle, K.A. (eds) Problems in Greek Prehistory. Bristol: Bristol Classical Press, pp. 115–152.
Kilian-Dirlmeier, I. (2002) Die Schwerter in Griechenland (mit Ausnahme der Peloponnes), Bulgarien und Albanien. Prähistorische Bronzefunde IV.12. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag.
Knapp, A.B. and Demesticha, S. (2016) Maritime Transport Containers in the Bronze-Age Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean. Uppsala: Åströms Förlag.
Kroll, H. (1982) 'Kulturpflanzen von Tiryns', Archäologischer Anzeiger, 1982, pp. 467–485.
Maran, J. (2001) 'Political and Religious Aspects of the LH IIIC Building Below the Former Megaron of Tiryns', in Laffineur, R. and Hägg, R. (eds) POTNIA: Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age. Aegaeum 22. Liège: Université de Liège, pp. 113–122.
Maran, J. (2002) 'The Town of Tiryns After the Fall of the Palace: Some Reflections in the Light of New Excavations', Atti dei Convegni Lincei, 174, pp. 223–238.
Maran, J. (2004) 'The Prehistoric Settlement of Tiryns: Recent Research and New Perspectives', European Journal of Archaeology, 7(1), pp. 11–32.
Maran, J. (2006) 'Mycenaean Citadels as Sites of Memory', in Deger-Jalkotzy, S. and Lemos, I.S. (eds) Athanasia: The Aegean World in the First Millennium BC. Athens: University of Athens, pp. 123–136.
Maran, J. (2010) 'Tiryns', in Cline, E.H. (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 722–734.
Mühlenbruch, T. (2009) Baubefunde und Keramik der Phase Späthelladisch IIIC-Spät aus Tiryns. Tiryns Forschungen und Berichte XVI. Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag.
Muhly, J.D. (2003) 'Mining and Metalwork in the Bronze Age', in Eastern Mediterranean: Cyprus-Dodecanese-Crete 16th-6th cent. B.C. Athens: Museum of Cycladic Art, pp. 141–146.
Nur, A. and Cline, E.H. (2000) 'Poseidon's Horses: Plate Tectonics and Earthquake Storms in the Late Bronze Age Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean', Journal of Archaeological Science, 27(1), pp. 43–63.
Rahmstorf, L. (2008) Kleinfunde aus Gold, Silber, Bronze, Blei, Glas, Ton, Stein, Elfenbein und Knochen aus Tiryns (LH III). Tiryns Forschungen und Berichte XVI. Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag.
Sherratt, S. (1994) 'Commerce, Iron and Ideology: Metallurgical Innovation in the 12th–11th Century Cyprus', in Karageorghis, V. (ed.) Cyprus in the 11th Century B.C. Nicosia: Leventis Foundation, pp. 59–106.
Snodgrass, A.M. (1980) Archaic Greece: The Age of Experiment. London: J.M. Dent & Sons.
Tainter, J.A. (1988) The Collapse of Complex Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Tartaron, T.F. (2013) Maritime Networks in the Mycenaean World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
von den Driesch, A. and Boessneck, J. (1990) 'Die Tierreste von Tiryns', Tiryns Forschungen und Berichte XI. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, pp. 87–164.
Waldbaum, J.C. (1999) 'The Coming of Iron in the Eastern Mediterranean: Thirty Years of Archaeological and Technological Research', in Young, S.M.M. et al. (eds) Metals in Antiquity. Oxford: Archaeopress, pp. 27–57.
Zangger, E. (1991) 'Prehistoric Coastal Environments in Greece: The Case of Tiryns', Geoarchaeology, 6(3), pp. 219–239.
Zangger, E. (1994) 'The Tiryns Dam', American Journal of Archaeology, 98(2), pp. 189–212.
https://rockettalk.substack.com/p/ancient-science-of-solar-eclipses
Modern interpretations of eclipses in the ancient world make us believe they were viewed as omens of good and evil, portents of war and peace, and even interventions of a deity. Too often though we are quick to exclude the reality that these events were studied in a fashion we usually only credit to after the Scientific Revolution.
Effective study of the heavens has always been meticulous in time and detail, no matter the culture that conducted it.
RELEASED
Corsica is famous for Napoleon, vendettas, explosive cheese—and apparently a 4,000-year grudge. Its mysterious cyclopean towers survive only in the south, while the north contains a suspicious absence where an ancient stone-building culture should have been. Was the island divided by an unknown invasion long before Rome, leaving behind a wound that Corsica never quite forgot?
Follow armed menhirs, Bronze Age towers, forgotten languages, and some deeply inconvenient geography to investigate who split Corsica in two.
Hope you like the new(ish) video
https://youtu.be/tY1JXNs60bI
I translated this article from Arabic into English, and I apologize if there is any mistake in the Mexican names.
I hope you like this post. My regards from Egypt ..
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Source: The Egyptian magazine Al-Muqtataf المقتطف, issue (6), published on June 1, 1948.
Author of the article: Muhammad Gamil Bayham محمد جميل بيهم (1887–1978 AD), historian, politician, writer, and Lebanese Arab reformist. He has dozens of works, articles, and writings of a historical, intellectual, and political nature.
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Did the Pharaohs, the Babylonians, and the Indians take their civilization from Mexico?
Similarities between Mexico and Egypt
I had the opportunity to visit Mexico three months before the last war. A friend invited me to dinner at one of the large restaurants in Mexico City, and the attire of the women working in the establishment powerfully caught my attention, as it reminded me of what I had seen so many times at the Cairo Museum: the Pharaonic mummies. For it did not differ at all, neither in details, colors, nor motifs, from the clothing of women in the time of the Pharaohs, from the headdress to the footwear.
"Why did the restaurant owner choose for his employees the garments of the daughters of the Nile from the Pharaonic era?" I asked this question to my companion, and he smiled and told me: "This attire is nothing more than the traditional costume of Mexican women in antiquity."
This answer awakened my interest and my desire to know the historical relationship between Egypt and Mexico, and my curiosity increased even more when, in the Valley of Teotihuacán, about fifty kilometers from the capital, as well as in Cholula, Micalco, and Chonula, I saw pyramids similar to those of Egypt, erected on a geometric base forming angles that point to the seasons of the year, just like the Great Pyramid of Giza. I also asked myself whether Egyptian culture had reached the American continent, bringing with it the design of the pyramids.
I went further in my reflections and questioned whether the belief in the immortality of the soul, along with the art of mummification that accompanied it, had also traveled from Egypt to Mexico within the same pyramid project, given the connection between both practices, and even more so because the method of mummification was identical between the Pharaohs and the inhabitants of South America, not differing even in the tiniest details.
This interest in the past awakened in me a spirit of curiosity and the need to observe the neighborhoods (everyday life) to see if the resemblance between Egypt and Mexico could still be perceived in the present era.
However, one might expect the resemblance between the two countries to be remote, because Mexico is situated upon mountains and deep valleys, and its people reflect the hardness of the rocks and the fierceness of the eagles; while Egypt stretches along the fertile and lush Nile Valley, its inhabitants reflecting the smoothness of the rivers and the sweetness of the warbling of birds.
But, even so, I have observed numerous similarities to this day between Egyptians and Mexicans, especially in rural areas. How alike they are in the choice of colors, in women's garments, and in their gold necklaces; and how close they are in the practice of ancient agricultural methods and their tools, not to mention certain ancestral customs.
These are manifested in some popular festivities and other acts, particularly in the engagement ritual (or the asking for a bride's hand). Furthermore, the resemblance between the two peoples often also shows in some foods. In Egypt, ful medames is the quintessential popular dish, and in Mexico, it is corn seasoned with acid and chili, which is also their popular dish.
Corn is the most important food element for Mexicans and they depend on it, just as the Egyptian peasant depends on fava beans (ful), and they use transparent leaves as wrappers for tobacco.
And just as the Egyptian is by nature fond of spicy seasonings and enjoys dishes full of all kinds of spices and pepper, the Mexican also pays great attention to these condiments, especially spicy ones. Their passion for them reaches such a point that in a city called "Mérida" they prepare a fruit salad loaded with hot chili.
Furthermore, light-heartedness, love of fun, and unconcern for tomorrow are part of the Mexican's nature, just as they were of the ancient Egyptians. The Mexican spends the wages of his day without calculating what tomorrow will bring, based on the rule: "Spend what you have in your pocket, for what is in destiny will come to you."
If we attribute this great resemblance between the two peoples to the influence of climate and heat in both countries, without relating it to history, how then would we explain the resemblance between them in specific national industries?
For if you enter a store selling Mexican antiques and national handicrafts, and look left and right observing the national weavings and other manufactures that preserve the Mexican style, and see the carpets, pottery, shapes of vessels, and reflect on the engravings, dyes, colors, and drawings you behold, it will seem to you that you are inside a warehouse of Egyptian antiquities in Cairo, or in one of the Pharaonic museums.
In addition to this, I have observed that the Red Indians (Indigenous peoples) of Mexico, who constitute the majority of the people, not only resemble Egyptians and Iraqis from rural areas, but the resemblance extends to a great number of similarities between them and the Bedouins of other Arab countries.
Whoever reads the book "The Elephant and the Ethnologists" by the renowned Elliot Smith feels captive to the same amazement as the author, and wonders how the Americans, a thousand years ago or more, could sculpt the figure of the elephant, despite the fact that this animal does not live in their lands. He also wonders, along with him, whether Hindu culture moved from India to the American continent, bringing with it the drawing of the elephant.
Furthermore, whoever flips through the pages of a notebook that the United States Information Office had given to its owners, his gaze stops at the drawing of a village resembling the villages of Egypt, and he asks himself the purpose of publishing that strange drawing, alien to America, when the notebook exclusively included American scenes. And here on the next page he reads the following note: "This is a view of a village built by the Red Indians approximately one thousand years ago in the state of New Mexico. The houses are of the adobe type, which they call 'adobe,' a word taken from the Coptic 'tub' (brick), and the Red Indians still inhabit these houses."
The truth is that Mexico is one of the most anciently populated countries in the Americas; for some historians affirmed that the Valley of Mexico had been inhabited for twenty-five thousand years. The historian Prescott said: "Mexico was the most prominent country in Latin America for its civilization." Likewise, its earliest inhabitants were distinguished by their intelligence and their morals, as demonstrated by the vestiges they left behind, similar to those of Egyptian and Hindu cities, and the news they transmitted about conquests and novelistic adventures in which the legends of the Normans and the Italians (by which he refers to the Romans) that appear in the tales about their heroes are reflected.
And it is no wonder, then, that the tribes of Eili, more than a thousand years before Christ, built in Guatemala and Yucatán cities that were a marvel for the beauty of their construction and architecture, and whose vestiges still bear witness to this; all of this gives an idea of the high degree of civilization that Mexico achieved.
Among the most outstanding things to be found in Yucatán, and seen in those derelict buildings known as the ruins of Chichén Itzá, is the sumptuousness, good taste, and architecture they harbor, as well as the ruins of Mitla and Kiaro.
And we are amazed at these vestiges and reflect on whether it was Egypt and India that took from Mexico, or whether it was Mexico that took from them. For some historians related that the pyramid of Shishilco, erected on the outskirts of Mexico City, is between four and ten thousand years old.
And if it is true that this pyramid was built several thousand years ago, then Mexico preceded Egypt in the erection of pyramids; otherwise, perhaps the pyramid of Shishilco was contemporary with the first pyramid raised by the first dynasty of the Pharaohs, or that, at the very least, it was built at the time when the three great pyramids of Giza were raised by the fourth Pharaonic dynasty.
This made me raise another question from the moment I directed my gaze towards the pyramids erected in Teotihuacán, Totochicalcro, and Acholula, in Mexico. The reason is that these pyramids are built in the form of a stepped terrace, according to astronomical principles, as demonstrated by the daily and monthly calendars based on the movements of the Sun and the Moon.
The two largest of these pyramids bore the name of the Sun and the other the name of the Moon. They also drew my attention to some reliefs on these pyramids, very similar to the engravings and drawings of India, and not far removed from the reliefs of the Babylonians and Chaldeans. However, the three pyramids of the Plateau (of Egypt) were smooth, without steps or ornamentation.
The question that arose within me is whether Mexico took the idea of the pyramid from somewhere other than Egypt, with all the purposes that entailed, especially religious ones, since in the vestiges of Babylonia evidence has been found that the ancient Babylonians built their high pyramids in a stepped form, each level with less surface area than the previous one, just like the pyramids of Mexico.
But what about the statue erected in front of the entrance to the Temple of the Warriors in the ruins of Chichén Itzá, in Yucatán? If the idea of the pyramids was not transmitted from the Pharaohs, but was taken from Babylonia, has it been considered that this great statue, which represents the head of a woman on the body of an animal, is not also a copy of the Sphinx that lies in Giza?
And what about those inscriptions of a pictographic nature found in Mexico on the tombs of some great chieftains and in other places? They are very similar to Egyptian hieroglyphic writing carved on stones and papyri.
These are data that are still mysteries, since archaeological excavations in Mexico only date back to the beginning of this century.
Perhaps Mexico, which brings together in its customs features that agree with India, Babylonia, and Egypt, maintained contact with the East, and perhaps the means of transport and communication between the different points on Earth in remote times were at a more advanced level than sailing ships and vessels.
Who knows if the story of the flying carpet was not born from a reality whose traces time has blurred, and what has reached us from it, transmitted by word of mouth, has now become mere legend?
The End ...