While diplomacy may not quite qualify as the “oldest profession”, there is one phrase — used to describe a position or a text that is still under negotiation — that, better than any other, illustrates the antiquity of this craft: “it is not yet cast in stone”. There was a time, 3400 years ago, when this was a literal truth. Even if drafted on wax-faced tablets or papyrus, final texts of diplomatic correspondence were written on clay tablets.
on modern times when the going gets tough diplomatic archives may be consigned tr the flames or the shredder to avoid their falling into unfriendly hands (I have had some personal experience with this). That would have been distinctly counterproductive in the ancient Near East. Indeed, nothing delights an Assyriologist more than to unearth a sacked city, with a burnt out library, because the flames that consumed the archive, baked the tablets it housed, rendering them virtually indestructible.
In 1877 some Egyptian peasants rooting about in the ruins of Al-Amarna on east bank of the Nile found troves of clay tablets inscribed in Babylonic cuneiform. Eventually over 300 were recovered and made their way to western museums to be translated and collated. The tablets date back to the fourteenth century B.C., the last decades of Egypt’s glorious eighteenth dynasty. The earliest tablets show New Kingdom Egypt at the height of its powers under Amenophis III, followed by the strange reign of his son Akhenaten, the so-called “heretic king”, and ending with Tutankhamen’s short and unhappy reign. To the historian, however, the find was more valuable than all of King Tut’s gold, because the tablets formed part of an Egyptian diplomatic archive. They described a turbulent time. Akhenaten was more interested in religion than in peace, order and good government. Foreign affairs were ignored, and in Egypt itself the administration crumbled and corruption became rampant.
The tablets were written in cuneiform, the name given to the wedge-shaped signs, each representing a syllable, impressed on the clay tablets. Ancient Egyptians did not normally write on clay tablets, nor in cuneiform, but no one else used their hieroglyphics, and Akkadian, a now extinct Semitic language, spoken in what used to be Iraq, was the international lingua franca of the day. The Pharaoh’s chancery would have drafted its diplomatic correspondence in Egyptian, but then translated it into Akkadian. Most of the archive is, in fact, incoming correspondence (often annotated as to its origin); the Egyptian originals for the outgoing messages, usually written on papyrus, have largely perished.
When Amenophis III died in 1377 there were essentially three great powers: Egypt, whose control stretched up through what’s now Israel, the Palestinian territories and Lebanon; the Kingdom of the Mittani, located on the upper Tigris and Euphrates, in the region that today would like to be Kurdistan; and the Hittite Empire in central Anatolia. There were also lesser states in Cyprus, and Babylon (near Baghdad), whose kings deemed themselves important enough to address the Pharaoh as “my brother” rather than “my Lord”. Amenophis and the Mittani King Tushratta were closely allied, reinforced by generous Egyptian subsidies to the Mitanni and by several marriage alliances (unilateral, as A menophis never allowed the marriage of an Egyptian princess to a foreigner). Together Egypt and the Mitanni held the Hittites in check behind the Tarsus mountains. With Amenophis’ death and also the accession of a new Hittite King Suppiluliumas 1, things began to unravel.
The new Pharaoh Amenophis IV was preoccupied with promoting his new cult of the sun god Aten. He changed his name to Akhenaten and began building a new capital cum cult-centre at Amarna (then styled Akhetaten). He did nothing when, a few years after his secession, the Hittite king Suppiluliumas I launched a major offensive against Tushratta and broke the Mitanni kingdom. Much of the archive reflects Akhenaten’s indifference as the old world order disintegrated about him, and despite ever more desperate appeals from the Mittani and from his own Levantine and former Mittani vassals for help against the Hittites or various north Syrian dynasts and nomads taking advantage of the chaos. His father, Amenophis III had taken a hands-on approach to foreign affairs and defence; he read the incoming dispatches and sometimes even drafted the replies, which usually went out promptly. If a slight were delivered, or a messenger too long detained, it was meant deliberately. Normally, presents were punctiliously exchanged, and the vassals in the northern marches were kept firmly in hand; if not, Amenophis sent an expeditionary force. None of this interested Akhenaten, and his closest advisors ensured that bad news from home or abroad never reached his ears. Without central direction, his chancery had no guidance on how to respond, so often they didn’t. Foreign envoys cooled their heels for years, and presents, when exchanged, fell considerably short of expectations.
Unfortunately the messages that passed back and forth between the Great Kings do not always give the flavour of these exciting times. One of the problems may be the time depth. The past, they say, is a foreign country, and this is a very foreign country indeed. While Roman diplomatic reports and correspondence or treaty texts have a not unfamiliar ring to them, these letters do not. There are also linguistic problems. Many the letters are drafted in very bad Akkadian and a few are in other languages such as Hurrian (the language of the Mitanni) or Hittite, and if this made their interpretation difficult for Egyptian officials, they can be positively baffling to modern scholars. The letters tend to be repetitious and very formalistic. We are not entirely free of this, as we still begin third person notes with The Department of Foreign Affairs presents its compliments to the Embassy of X and end …has the honour to renew to the Embassy of X the assurances of its highest consideration. The fourteenth century B.C. equivalent was Say to N, king of Z, my brother, thus M, king of Y, your brother, for me and my country all goes very well, for you, for your wives, for your sons, for your nobles, for your chariots, for your horses, for your country may all go very well. Messages from vassal kings and “mayors” (rulers of small Lebanese or Canaanite city states such as Tyre or Jerusalem) begin on a humbler note Say to the King, my sun, my god, message of X your servant, the dirt under your feet, the mire you tread in, your footstool. I fall at the feet of my King, my Lord. my sun, seven times and seven times both on my stomach and my back. Try that the next time we want Washington’s attention!
Many of the messages were what we would call networking, an exchange of pleasantries. These were deemed important and omissions were noted. In one rather grumpy message to Akhenaten, the King of Babylon complains that, although he has been quite ill for some time, Has my brother not heard I am ill, why has he shown me no concern… ask your messenger if my country is so far away that my brother did not hear the news …. He continues in this vein for several more tablets. Another important element in diplomacy of this period was the exchange of “greeting gifts” often carefully enumerated in the message. The Egyptians usually sent gold; the Babylonians lapis lazuli, and chariot teams; the Mitanni clothing and precious stones; the Hittites, wood products and scented oils; and the Cypriots copper. In exchange reciprocal gifts were expected, sometimes for a particular purpose such as furnishing a new temple or palace: May my brother send me much gold, at our national feast day may my brother honour me. In my brother’s country gold is as plentiful as dirt. May my brother with gold and many goods honour me. May my brother do more than his father did. May my messengers bring back to me much gold.
The Egyptians were somewhat lax about the quality of their gifts. Tushratta sent several peevish letters to Akhenaten, because two “gold” statues, promised by his late father, were found on arrival to be gold-plated wood. He even complained about them to the Queen-mother: I will not forget my love for Amenophis, your husband. More than ever before, I show ten times much, much more love to your son … I had asked your husband for statues of solid cast gold… Now your son has sent plated statues of wood … with gold being as dirt in your son’s country why has he been the cause of such distress as to send these to me?
The king of Babylon also complained of receiving substandard gold — on one occasion he got 30 Ibs of gold that looked like silver. The gold was melted down in the presence of Kasi, your messenger and he was a witness — at another time When I put the 40 Ibs of gold in the kiln there appeared not even 10, I swear … what did appear on cooling off, looked like ashes.
While many of these exchanges of “greeting gifts” were the ancient equivalent of silver trays and Eskimo sculptures, some involved much more substantial exchanges, and were more in the nature of commercial arrangements. Egypt in particular, needed good timber, and it lacked copper. In one letter, the King of Cyprus sends 500 talents (15 tons) of copper, apologizing for not sending more, but pestilence has carried off most of his metal workers. In exchange he asks for some vases of scented oil, some soothsayers and above all for very great quantities of silver. He reminds Akhenaten that he still owes for a shipment of Cypriot timber.
Many letters involve requests for, or negotiations about, royal brides (normally a protracted process). Brides normally came with a large trousseau (itself an object of negotiations) and these were carefully enumerated. In addition, the receiving state was expected to send an impressive escort to bring the bride to her new home. Negotiations could drag on for months or years about such details. As polygamy was the norm, several generations could be involved. One Babylonian monarch was asked by Amenophis Ill for a daughter, although his father had already bestowed one of his sisters. He tells Amenophis, Indeed, you want my daughter in marriage, but my sister whom my father gave you… no one has seen her recently, or knows whether she is alive or dead. You told my messengers with your wives standing before you “There is your mistress before your eyes” But they did not recognize her. Amenophis’ reply to this high level consular enquiry was scathing: Did you ever send a dignitary of yours who knows your sister, who could speak with her and identify her? The men you sent here were nobodies, one was [illegible] the other an ass herder from [illegible]…. If your sister were dead, what reason would there be for concealing her death or our presenting someone else?
Among the few signs of the troubled times, aside from a warning from the King of Cyprus — do not make an alliance with the Hittites — was a Babylonian king’s complaint that a party of his merchants (essentially employees of a crown corporation) had been killed in Canaan, a region under (nominal) Egyptian control. Canaan is your country and its kings are your servants. In your country I have been despoiled. Bring them to account, and make compensation wee put to death the men who put my servants to death.
Letters from client kings in the region are more revealing of the times. The Hittite eruption greatly disturbed Egypt’s tributaries in northern Lebanon, who feared that they might be invaded. One expresses alarm as the Hittites advance through northern Syria He sends the land up in flames. Rib-Hadda King of Byblos, a longtime Egyptian vassal state which extended south to Beirut, sent no less than 40 letters calling for help, often describing himself like a bird in a trap … why have you neglected your country. Not only was he concerned that The Hittite king has seized all the lands that were vassals to the king of Mitanni … send archers. He was also under attack from the ‘Apiru’, a nomadic people from the interior, who also troubled other kings and mayors including Abdi-Heba, the mayor of Jerusalem, who pleads / am situated like a ship in the midst of the sea…. The ‘Apirw’ have taken the very cities of the king, not a single mayor remains to the king, all are lost. He too, vainly asks Akhenaten to send him archers.
The enemies were not only external. Some of Akhenaten’s nominal tributaries were less than loyal. The worst was Aziru of Amurru (in Northern Syria), who took over or destroyed several other vassal cities, including, in the end, Byblos. When the people of Byblos went over to Aziru, Rib-Hadda fell back to Beirut, where he once more vainly appealed to Akhenaten for troops. His last recorded words were Why has my lord neglected me? Rib-Hadda was killed and Akhenaten was finally moved to write to Aziru If you plot evil treacherous things then you and your entire family will die by the axe of the king. He concludes You know the king is hale like the sun in the sky. For his troops and his chariots are multitudinous. Aziru loudly protested his loyalty and shrugged off Akhenaten’s admonitions: J do not deviate from the orders of my king, my Lord, my God and my Sun …. You are like Ba’al … how could your servants lie to my Lord … the mayors are all traitors to my Lord, do not trust them! But Aziru continued his encroachments.
Akhenaten was finally bestirred to concrete action, when Aziru began to plot with the Hittites. He was arrested and escorted back to Egypt to stand trial. He was detained there for some time, but eventually was released. On his return, Aziru finally threw off all pretense of being an Egyptian vassal and gave his allegiance to the Hittites. Suppiluliumas was less trusting than Akhenaten. He exacted from Aziru an annual tribute of 50 Ibs of silver and forbade him any independent dealings with the Egyptians or other Great Kings.
In 1359 Akhenaten died, apparently of natural causes. The next few years saw the fleeting passage of the last scions of the eighteenth dynasty. Tutankhamen, the best known of these, even mounted an expedition, allied with the emergent state of Assyria, against the Hittites, but then lost his nerve and retreated. In the end the military staged a coup, a general named Horemheb seized the throne and moved the government back to Thebes. Amarna/Akhetaten was abandoned, its useable stone work was recycled, and the rest was consigned to the flames. The immolation which consigned Akhenaten’s memory to oblivion, however, preserved his archives to give us a glimpse of how foreign policy was conducted 3400 years ago.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 19, No. 4 (2003) — Winter/Spring 2002/2003 // Hiver/Printemps 2002/2003, pp. 16–18. Read the rest of this issue →
