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2.1 — Before the Common Era

A date this old is never a day. It is a range that archaeology has narrowed, and the honest form of most of these is "somewhere in this century, in this valley". What follows is the set worth carrying, each with the reason it is the date that gets named and not one nearby.

A note on the notation first. BCE means Before the Common Era and CE means Common Era, and they count exactly the same years as BC and AD — 1 BCE is 1 BC, 2026 CE is AD 2026. The letters changed because the older pair state a religious claim in the middle of a shared calendar, and the numbering itself is off anyway: the monk who calculated it, Dionysius Exiguus in 525, placed the birth of Jesus in a year that most historians now think is four to six years too late.

Before there were years

About 10,000 BCE — somebody plants a seed on purpose

This is the single largest change in the human story and it has no date, no place and no inventor.

Across the Fertile Crescent — a curve of land through modern Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Jordan and south-eastern Turkey — people who had been gathering wild wheat and barley for millennia began sowing it. Independently and later, rice was domesticated in China, maize in Mexico, potatoes in the Andes, sorghum in Africa. Nobody decided to invent farming. It emerged over centuries, probably as a response to a warming and stabilising climate after the last ice age, and the people doing it would not have described themselves as doing anything new.

What it produced was not immediately better living. Early farmers were shorter than the foragers before them, worked longer hours, ate a narrower diet and caught diseases from their animals. What farming produced was surplus and storage, and therefore ownership, inheritance, taxation, specialists who did not grow food, and cities. Every institution in this book descends from that trade.

About 9500 BCE — Göbekli Tepe

On a hilltop in southern Turkey, hunter-gatherers cut limestone pillars up to five metres tall, carved them with foxes, boars, cranes and scorpions, arranged them in rings, and did this before pottery, before metal, before the wheel, and apparently before agriculture in that region.

It matters because it reverses an assumption. The standard story was that farming produced surplus, surplus produced cities, and cities produced temples. Göbekli Tepe suggests the arrow can point the other way: people gathered in large numbers for reasons that were social or religious, and feeding a gathering that size may have been part of what pushed them into cultivating grain. Belief may have come before bread.

The first cities

About 3200 BCE — writing, invented to count barley

A small clay tablet covered in wedge-shaped cuneiform marks, a receipt for livestock donated to a royal feast
A Sumerian tablet from about 2041 BCE: a receipt for animals delivered for a king's feast. Almost all early writing looks like this. Literature comes centuries after accountancy. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

In the city of Uruk in southern Mesopotamia, administrators pressed a cut reed into wet clay to record quantities of grain, beer, livestock and labour. The wedge shapes give the script its name, cuneiform, from Latin cuneus, a wedge.

The first thing writing was used for was inventory. Not poetry, not law, not scripture — receipts, ration lists and tax records. The symbols began as pictures of the thing counted and became abstract as scribes wrote faster, and only after several centuries did anyone use the system to write down a sentence in a spoken language rather than a quantity.

Egyptian hieroglyphs appear within a century or two, probably independently. Chinese writing emerges by about 1200 BCE, and Mesoamerican scripts later still, both certainly independently. Writing has been invented from scratch perhaps three or four times in human history, which is a small number for something that now feels inevitable.

About 2560 BCE — the Great Pyramid

Built for the pharaoh Khufu at Giza over roughly twenty years, out of some 2.3 million blocks, to a height of 146 metres. It remained the tallest structure made by humans for about 3,800 years, until Lincoln Cathedral's spire in the fourteenth century — a record no other artefact comes close to.

The two things people believe about it are both wrong. It was not built by slaves: excavation of the workers' town beside it since the 1990s has found bakeries, breweries, medical care for broken bones, and burials arranged with honour close to the king's monument, all indicating a paid and organised workforce of skilled labourers and seasonal conscripts. And it is not aligned by luck: the sides run within about a twentieth of a degree of true north, achieved by watching stars, with no compass and no instrument you would recognise.

About 1754 BCE — Hammurabi writes the law down

A tall black basalt stele carved with dense cuneiform text below a relief of a seated god handing symbols of authority to a standing king
The stele of Hammurabi, in the Louvre. At the top the king stands before the sun god Shamash; below runs the law in cuneiform, publicly displayed so that nobody could claim not to know it. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

The Babylonian king Hammurabi had 282 laws carved on a two-metre pillar of black basalt and set up in public. It is not the oldest law code — the code of Ur-Nammu is three centuries older — but it is the one that survives nearly complete, and the one that shows what early law was actually like.

It is where "an eye for an eye" comes from, and the phrase is usually misread. In context lex talionis is a limit, not a licence: the penalty may not exceed the injury, which in a world of blood feuds and escalating revenge was a restraint on violence rather than a prescription for it.

It is also brutally unequal, and openly so. The penalty depends on the class of both parties: blinding a nobleman costs you your eye, blinding a commoner costs silver, and blinding a slave costs a fraction of the slave's price. The important thing is not the fairness but the publication. Carving the law where people can see it means the ruler is claiming the law exists independently of his mood — which is the germ of every constitutional idea that follows.

About 1500 BCE — the alphabet

Somewhere in the Sinai or the Levant, workers who spoke a Semitic language and had seen Egyptian hieroglyphs did something nobody had done: they took about twenty-two signs and used each to stand for a single consonant sound, rather than for a word or a syllable.

The consequence is hard to overstate. Cuneiform and hieroglyphs required years of training and a professional scribal class of a few hundred people in a city. An alphabet of twenty-odd signs can be learned in weeks. Literacy stopped being a profession and could become a skill. Phoenician traders carried it around the Mediterranean; the Greeks added vowels; the Romans adapted the Greek; and the letters you are reading are the direct descendants. So are Hebrew, Arabic, and — through a chain running east — the Brahmi script and every Indian script that came from it.

The age of ideas

About 1200 BCE — the Bronze Age collapse

Within about fifty years, nearly every major state in the eastern Mediterranean fell. The Hittite empire ended. Mycenaean Greece collapsed and Greek writing disappeared for four centuries. Egypt survived but never recovered its reach. Cities from Anatolia to Canaan were burned and not rebuilt.

Nobody knows why, and that is the point of including it. The candidate causes are drought recorded in pollen and isotope data, earthquakes, invasion by the seaborne groups the Egyptians called the Sea Peoples, and the fragility of a trade network in which bronze required tin from thousands of kilometres away. The current consensus is that no single cause did it — a densely interconnected system failed cascadingly when several shocks arrived together.

It is the earliest well-documented case of a complex civilisation collapsing, and the reason it appears in every serious discussion of systemic risk.

About 563–483 BCE — the Buddha

Siddhartha Gautama, born into a ruling family in what is now Nepal, left it in his twenties, spent years in extreme asceticism, rejected that as well, and arrived at a formulation that treats suffering as a problem with a stated cause and a stated method. The dates are disputed by up to a century; the teaching is not.

He is one node of something remarkable. Between roughly 800 and 200 BCE, in several places with little or no contact, people independently began asking the same kind of question — what is a good life, what is the self, what do we owe each other. Confucius and Laozi in China. The Upanishadic thinkers and Mahavira in India. The Hebrew prophets. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle in Greece. The philosopher Karl Jaspers called this the Axial Age, and whether the simultaneity means anything or is an artefact of what survived is still argued. Volume VII takes all of it seriously and at length.

508 BCE — Athens invents a word for rule by the people

Cleisthenes reorganised Athenian citizenship by locality rather than by clan, breaking the aristocratic families' grip, and gave every citizen a vote in an assembly that met on a hillside.

Be precise about what it was. Citizens meant free adult males of Athenian parentage — perhaps ten to twenty per cent of the people living there. Women, slaves and foreign residents were excluded entirely. Most officials were chosen by lot rather than election, on the theory that election favours the wealthy and the famous, and that any citizen should be able to serve.

It lasted under two centuries and was regarded by most later thinkers as a failed experiment. The word survived, and was picked up again two thousand years later by people building something quite different.

399 BCE — Athens executes Socrates

Convicted of impiety and corrupting the young, he was given hemlock. He was seventy, he could have escaped, and he refused on the argument that a citizen who accepts a city's protection cannot pick which of its judgements to obey.

He wrote nothing. Everything attributed to him comes through Plato and Xenophon, and separating the historical man from Plato's mouthpiece is a permanent open problem. What survives intact is the method: relentless questioning that exposes what somebody thought they knew as an assumption they had never examined. It is why the technique still carries his name.

India, Greece, Rome

326 BCE — Alexander reaches the Beas and turns back

Alexander of Macedon had taken Greece, Egypt and the entire Persian empire before he was thirty. In the Punjab he fought Porus at the Hydaspes, won, and reinstated him as a ruler. Then his army, ten years from home, refused to cross the Beas river towards the Nanda kingdom of the Ganges plain, and he turned back.

He died at Babylon in 323 BCE, aged 32, of something never identified. His empire was carved up by his generals within a decade.

The lasting effect was cultural rather than political. The Greek-speaking kingdoms left behind in Bactria and the north-west produced the Greco-Buddhist art of Gandhara, which is where the Buddha begins to be depicted as a human figure at all, in robes that fall like a Greek statue's. Before that he was represented by a footprint, an empty throne, or a wheel.

322 BCE — Chandragupta Maurya founds an empire, with a strategist beside him

Chandragupta took Magadha, pushed out the Greek garrisons in the north-west, and defeated Seleucus, one of Alexander's successors, gaining territory and a marriage alliance. His advisor Chanakya — also called Kautilya — is credited with the Arthashastra, a manual of statecraft, economics and espionage that is startlingly unsentimental and has been compared to Machiavelli, whom it predates by eighteen centuries.

268–232 BCE — Ashoka, and a change of mind carved in stone

The Lion Capital of Ashoka: four lions standing back to back on a circular abacus carved with animals and wheels, atop a bell-shaped lotus base
The Lion Capital from Ashoka's pillar at Sarnath, third century BCE. Adopted as the State Emblem of India in 1950; the wheel below the lions is the Ashoka Chakra at the centre of the national flag. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Chandragupta's grandson expanded the Mauryan empire to cover nearly the whole subcontinent, and then conquered Kalinga, on the east coast, in a campaign so destructive that by his own account it broke him.

What makes Ashoka unique in ancient history is that he said so, publicly, in his own words, carved on rock faces and pillars across his empire. The thirteenth major rock edict states the numbers of dead and deported at Kalinga and says the king feels remorse. No other ancient ruler advertises regret over a victory.

He then spent the rest of his reign promoting dhamma — non-violence, tolerance between sects, welfare works, restrictions on animal slaughter — and sent missions carrying Buddhism outward, including his son and daughter to Sri Lanka, which is a large part of why the religion spread beyond India at all.

The edicts were unreadable for two thousand years until James Prinsep deciphered the Brahmi script in Calcutta in 1837. Modern India took its state emblem and the wheel on its flag directly from his pillars.

44 BCE — Caesar is killed, and the Republic ends

Stabbed in a senate meeting on 15 March by a group of senators who believed they were saving the Roman Republic from a king. The immediate result was fourteen years of civil war, at the end of which his adopted heir Octavian held absolute power and took the name Augustus. The assassination did not prevent one-man rule; it produced it.

Two details worth having. The famous line "Et tu, Brute?" is Shakespeare's, not history — the ancient sources give either silence or a Greek phrase. And the month of July is named after him, August after his heir, which is part of the reason the Roman calendar's numbered months are all two out of position, a story taken up in 2.7.

About 100 BCE — the Antikythera mechanism

A corroded green fragment of ancient bronze gearing, with the teeth of a large toothed wheel clearly visible
The largest surviving fragment of the Antikythera mechanism, in Athens. The visible gear teeth are hand-cut bronze, and there were at least thirty interlocking wheels in the complete device. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Sponge divers recovered a corroded lump of bronze from a Roman-era shipwreck off the Greek island of Antikythera in 1901. It sat in a museum for decades before X-ray and later CT scanning revealed what it was: a geared analogue computer, with at least thirty interlocking bronze wheels, that modelled the motions of the sun and moon, predicted eclipses, and tracked the four-year cycle of the Greek games.

One gear train even reproduces the moon's varying speed across the sky using a pin-and-slot arrangement — a mechanical model of an astronomical irregularity, seventeen centuries before Kepler explained why it happens.

Nothing of comparable mechanical complexity is known again for well over a thousand years. It is the strongest evidence available that ancient technical capability was not a smooth upward line, and that things get lost.

What comes next

The next page picks up at the year 1 and runs to about 1500 — the invention of zero as a number, the fall of one Rome and the survival of the other, the mathematics that reached Europe through Baghdad and Spain, and the machine that made it impossible to control what people read.