INFORMATION TO USERS This manuscript has been reproduced from the microfilm master. UMI films the text directly from the original or copy submitted. Thus, some thesis and dissertation copies are in typewriter face, while others may be from any type of ‘computer printer. ‘The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. Broken or indistinct print, colored or poor quality illustrations and photographs, print bleedthrough, substandard margins, and improper alignment can adversely affect reproduction. In the unlikely event that the author did not send UM! a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if unauthorized copyright material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. Oversize materials (e.9., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by sectioning the original, beginning at the upper left-hand comer and continuing from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. ProQuest Information and Leaming 300 North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, Ml 48106-1346 USA ‘800-521-0600 @ UMILOCAL POWER: STRUCTURE AND FUNCTION OF COMMUNITY INSTITUTIONS OF AUTHORITY IN THE OLD BABYLONIAN PERIOD by Andrea Seri A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (Near Eastern Studies) in The University of Michigan 2003 Doctoral Committee: Professor Norman Yofite, Chair Professor Gary Beckman Professor Piotr Michalowski Professor Thomas TrautmanLUMI Number: 3096194 Copyright 2003 by Seri, Andrea All rights reserved. UMI UMI Microform 3096194 Copyright 2003 by ProQuest Information and Leaming Company. All rights reserved. This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code. ProQuest Information and Leaming Company 300 North Zeeb Road P.O. Box 1346 ‘Ann Arbor, Mi 48106-1346To Graciela Pilot and Victor Seri.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Lam exceedingly grateful to the members of my dissertation committee for their support and encouragement during the writing of this thesis. I first contacted Professor Norman Yoffee when I was an undergraduate in Argentina, and later for several years I have benefited from his classes at the University of Michigan. His views on the Old Babylonian period and on social theory were always, and will remain, a source of inspiration. Professor Piotr Michalowski’s acute criticisms were unfailingly intellectual challenges, and his seminars the ambience for thoughtful discussions. I am indebted to Professor Gary Beckman who has thoroughly edited this manuscript. My conversations with Gary were always stimulating. Professor Thomas Trautman has been very supportive. I have enjoyed our talks at the Institute for the Humanities, and have profited from the reading of the books that he recommended. Professor Willam Hallo, the former curator of the Yale Babylonian Collection, has allowed me to work on those unpublished tablets included in this study. Ulla Kasten ‘was very cooperative during my visit to New Haven, and I particularly appreciate her hands-on demonstration of how to bake clay tablets. Professor Martha Roth at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago has kindly permited me to work on the lexical files of the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary, and she was also willing to discuss with me Old Babylonian topics. I am deeply thankful to all of them. ‘Asa graduate student I was fortunate to receive fellowships from the Department of Near Eastern Studies, the Institute for the Humanities, and the Horace Rackham School of Graduate Studies. Thanks to their generosity and financial support I was able to concentrate on studying and researching. Jane Hansen, Margaret Casazza, and ToddHuynh at the Department of Near Eastern Studies, and Eliza Woodford, Mary Price, and Linnea Pearlman at the Institute for the Humanities have been extremely helpful. The affection and companionship of my friends are beyond recognition. Brad Crowell has been always available when I needed to discuss my interpretations. Doris, and Charles Fraker have delighted me with their smart conversation, and Doris has also patiently listened to large portions of my writing. Eben Wood, Shannon Dawdy, Erica Lehrer, and Apolo Amoko shared with me many cups of coffee and ideas. Anne Goddeeris sent me her dissertation on the early OB period immediately after she completed it. The advice of Marta Benetti and Ana Maria Ghio has been invaluable. My studies in Argentina, Mexico, and the States gave me the opportunity of having many good friends and teachers, I owe a great deal to all of them. ‘Ann Arbor, April 2003. ivLIST OF TABLES..... LIST OF APPENDICES LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS TABLE OF CONTENTS IL. Reflections on Mesopotamian History: the Centrality of the State ............ III. The Old Babylonian Period .. 111.1. Political History ... M112. Economic and Social History IV. Local Power: History of Research .. IL THE RABIANUM ... L. General Remarks ... IL. Rabianum as a Royal Titie .. ULL. The rabidnum as a City Authority IIL1. The Characteristics of the Office IV. ConclusionsIII. THE CITY ELDERS (Sibiit alim) .. 1. General Remarks .... Il. The Elders Attested in Mari Documents .. IML. The Elders in Babylonia IIL 1. Characteristics of the Institution II1.2. The Activities of the City Elders .. IV. A Reapprisal of the Role of the (City) Elders .. IV. THE CITY (élum) .. L General Remarks ... wl 73 IL. The Characteristics and Composition of the City .......+-+.++4+++0178 II. The Activities of the City 184 IV. Reassessing the Old Babylonian City .. V. THE ASSEMBLY (pufrum) L. General Remarks L1. On Mesopotamian Assemblies 1.2, Old Babylonian Assemblies .. IL. Characteristics and Functions of the Old Babylonian Assembly IL.1. Assembly Members 112. Characteristics of the Assembly III. Competence of the Assembly IV. Towards an Understanding of the (Old Babylonian Assembly V. Final Remarks .. VI CONCLUSIONS: LOCAL POWERS AND THE WRITING OF OLD BABYLONIAN HISTORY. sosseeeesB21L On the Writing of Old Babylonian History .. II. Cuneiform Sources and History Writing IIL. On Local Powers .. TIL1. Activities and Interactions of the Local Powers ... IIL.2. Interactions between Local Powers and the State APPENDICES.... INDEX OF CUNEIFORM TEXTS...LIST OF TABLES 1. Chronology of rabiarum as a Royal Titi IL. Sibitum/ “u-gi™ of Specific Geographic Places IML Elders from Specific Cities IV. Dated City Documents Chronologically Arranged. V. The Assembly of Nippur...PPO wp LIST OF APPENDICES List of rabianum Personal Names.. List of rabidmum Documents... ‘The Terms “&u-gi™ and Sibiitum in Documents from Mari. List of City-elders Documents from Babylonia... List of City Documents. List of Assembly Documents..AbB Ad AfO AHW AJSL AnOr AnSt AuOr BaghMitt LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS Altbabylonische Briefe Altbabylonische Briefe des Iraq-Museum Ammi-ditana Abi-ebub, Archiv fiir Orientforschung Akkadisches Handworterbuch American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures Analecta Orientalia Anatolian Studies Archives Royales de Mari Altbabylonische Rechtsurkunden aus Nippur, F.R. Kraus ef al. Archiv Orientéini Ammi-saduga Assyriological Studies Apil-Sin ‘Acta Sumerologica Aula Orientalis ‘Baghdader Mitteilungen Beitraige zum altbabylonischen Privatrecht, B. MeissnerBB BIN BiOr Boyer CHI CAD cH CTMMA Dalley Edinb. DN ED EDI GAG GN Holma ZATH HUCA JAOS Babylonische Briefe aus der Zeit der Hammurapi-Dynastie, A. Ungnad Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania. Series A Babylonian Inscriptions in the Collection of James B. Nies Bibliotheca Orientalis Contribution a I’Histoire Juridique de la Ire. Dynastie Babylonienne, G. Boyer ‘The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago Code of Hammurabi Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets...in the British Museum Cuneiform Texts in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I. Spar (ed.) ‘A Catalogue of the Akkadian Cuneiform Tablets in the Collections of the Royal Scottish Museum, Edinburgh. S. Dalley Document Cunéiformes de Strasbourg Conservés a la Bibliotheque Nationale et Universitaire, D. Charpin and J. M. Durand Divine Name Early Dynastic Tell ed-Dér Il, L. De Meyer (ed) Florilegium Marianum Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik, W. von Soden Geographical Name Hammurabi Zehn altbabylonische Tontafein in Helsingfors, H. Holma Hebrew Union College Annual Journal of the American Oriental SocietyIcs JEOL JESHO LFDB LH Nippur Neigh. NSGU OA OB OBAT OBTIV OBTTR OECT or OrNS PBS Journal of Cuneiform Studies Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap “Ex Oriente Lux” Joumal of the Social and Economic History of the Orient Joumal of Near Eastern Studies Letters of the First Babylonian Dynasty, T. Fish ‘The Letters and Inscriptions of Hammurabi, L. W. King Signature of the Musée d’Art et d’ Histoire of Geneva Mitteilungen der Altorientalischen Gesellschaft Mari Annales de Recherches Interdisciplinaires Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft Mesopotamian History and Environment Series III: Texts. Nippur Neighborhoods, E. Stone Die neusumerischen Gerichtsurkunden, A. Falkenstein Old Assyrian Old Babylonian Old Babylonian Account Texts in the Hom Archaeological Museum, M. Sigrist Old Babylonian Tablets from Ishchali and Vicinity, S. Greengus ‘The Old Babylonian Tablets from Tell al Rimab, 8. Dalley et al. (Oxford Editions of Cuneiform Texts Oriental Institute Publications, Chicago Orientalia. Nova Serie Publications of the Babylonian Section, University Museum,PSD RGTC I eevee g 2 2 1 SLB TCL TIA TIDB TLB Ts University of Pennsylvania Personal Name ‘The Sumerian Dictionary of the University of Pennsylvania Revue d’Assyriologie et d’ Archéologie Orientale Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes Ill, B. Groneberg Staro-Vavilonskie iuridicheskie i administrativnye dokumenty v sobraniiakh SSSR, A. Riftin Royal Inscriptions from Mesopotamia, D. Frayne Reallexikon der Assyriologie Rim-Sin Sabium Simé-la-el ‘Studia ad Tabulas Cuneiformes Collectas a F. M. Th. de Liagre Bohl Pertinentia ‘Sin-muballit Textes Cunéiformes, Musée du Louvre Texts in the Iraq Museum Tablettes Juridiques et Administratives de la Ile. Dynastie d’Ur et de la Ire. Dynastie de Babylone, E. Szlechter Tablettes Juridiques de la Ire. Dynastie de Babylone, E. Sziechter Tabulae Cuneiformes a F. M. Th. de Liagre Bohl Collectae Altere Ausgabe Warka. Altbabylonischen Urkunde aus Kutalla, Jean CF.UCP University of California Publications in Semitic Philology UET Ur Excavation Texts VAB Vorderasiatische Bibliothek VAS Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmaler der Kéniglichen Museen zu Berlin Waterman BDHP Business Documents of the Hammurabi Period, L. Waterman wo Die Welt des Orients YOS Yale Oriental Series ZA Zeitschrift fir Assyriologie Zz Zimri-LimCHAPTERI INTRODUCTION I. Aims of this Research Project ‘The intention of this research is to analyze certain local powers in Mesopotamia during the Old Babylonian period (ca. 2000 ~ 1595 B.C.). City authorities comprised both royal officials and representatives of urban communities with no formal dependence on the state. This study deals with a number of institutions belonging to the second group, namely, the rabianum, “the chief of the city,” the Sibit alim, “the city elders,” the alum, “the city,” and finally the puhrum, “the assembly.” Other similar corporate bodies as for instance the babrum, “the city ward,” the karum, “the port authority,” and the local judges were not included for several reasons. Thus, although the “city ward” is probably a relatively independent authority, it very seldom interacts with the rabianum, the elders, and the city. However, there are several examples in which the karum acts in concert with the rabidnum, but its degree of independence from the state is still not completely clear and needs further investigation. The same remark applies to the local judges. Aside from this justification, exclusions also rest on a practical criterion: the incorporation of all those institutions would have rendered this project unmanageable, especially in view of the voluminous amount of Old Babylonian documents. Although it is common to find references to the role of the rabianum, the elders, the city, and the assembly in works dealing with legal systems and judicial procedures, those studies rarely include documents other than lawsuits. It is my contention that such an approach provides only a partial understanding of the effective authority of these local powers to the detriment of their role in economic and social issues. That is why I decidedto take into account a variety of economic contracts and letters in addition to legal texts. Despite my attempts to be thorough in compiling data, I am aware of the fact that some attestations could have escaped my notice. One cannot but wait eagerly for the completion of the Old Babylonian electronic corpus, because such a valuable too! will prevent omissions and make the gathering of information easier. While I have also considered literary texts, my approach to interpretations that rely on literary compositions has been persistently critical. This is because I am skeptical about the use of literature for the reconstruction of political and social institutions. For similar methodological principles, I have omitted omen texts mentioning the rabianum, the elders, and the assembly. Including them was a temptation hard to resist, because omen literature refers to conflicts that are difficult to trace otherwise. Indeed, according to certain omens, local powers might challenge the royal authority and overthrow the king (see, e.g., Scheil 1930: 152 and Oppenheim 1936: 224ff.). Nevertheless, it is worth emphasizing that, in spite of Finkelstein’s (1963) claims, omens are hardly repositories of historical facts (see Michalowski 1999: 74ff.). The motivations of this research project originated from my historiographical and methodological concems regarding cuneiform sources and the writing of Old Babylonian history. Two questions helped shape this study. First, why is it that historians of ancient ‘Mesopotamia concentrate on history of the state? Second, how is it possible with the available sources to go beyond the royal domain and study other spheres of society? This introductory chapter was planned around the first question. Here I explore the ways in which Mesopotamian history has been written since the decipherment of cuneiform in order to identify those historiographic theories that influenced the writing of Mesopotamian history. This approach also allowed me to account for the centrality of the state in Mesopotamian historical analysis. Other subheadings of the introduction deal specifically with different tendencies and discussions pertaining to the study of Old Babylonian political and economic and social history. Finally, the introduction closeswith a history of the research on the local powers, which is further pursued in other chapters. The rest of the dissertation intends to address, if partially, the second question, that is, the undertaking of a historical analysis from a perspective other than “history from above.” It is my working hypothesis that the study of relatively independent local institutions of authority provides a new approach to the Old Babylonian period, because local powers were the hinge that articulated state and society. Their intermediate position in society, then, is important in tracing networks of social and political relations that include not only the state but also those community members represented by local powers. To accomplish this goal, [ have decided to study first each of the local institutions separately. Therefore, chapters two through five deal with the rabianum, the elders, the city, and the assembly, respectively. For these chapters I have purposely followed, in general lines, the same structure, which includes previous studies, the characteristics and activities of the institution under discussion, and closing remarks. Finally, the conclusions are aimed at reflecting on issues such as historiography and history writing, the use of written sources, and at articulating my conclusions regarding the functioning of local powers and their role as mediators between the state and other sectors of society. IL. Reflections on Mesopotamian History: the Centrality of the State ‘The decipherment of cuneiform writing was officially established in 1857, when members of the Royal Asiatic Society compared four translations of the same inscription and agreed that the renderings were substantially similar.’ The importance of this ' The Royal Asiatic Society had submitted copies of a cylinder bearing the Annals of Tiglathpileser I to Rawlinson, Hincks, Oppert, and Talbot, who translated the inscription similarly. The referees of the institution announced the decipherment in a Report of the Royal Asiatic Society dated 29 May 1857. Of course, this date is only a convention, for H. Rawlinsonachievement was apparent not only for the philologist interested in ancient languages, but also for the historian.? For the first time, the ancient kingdoms of Mesopotamia — mentioned in the Bible and in the writings of Greek authors—could be potentially studied by means of original texts written several thousand years ago. However, there were still many gaps to be filled. The translation of the documents that came to light systematically since the middle 1860's was a slow process and the philological problems were far from being completely solved. Furthermore, the use of a variety of documents (mainly mythological and literary accounts, but also omens or economic texts) as evidence was neither systematic nor critical. Thus, in the early historical works, Mesopotamian sources were interpreted in the light of the Bible and Greek writers like Herodotus or Berossus. This tradition was still followed until well into the twentieth century. ‘The decipherment of cuneiform writing took place during the apogee of positivism, which in history was characterized by the use of those premises and methods proposed by Leopold von Ranke. The positivist approach promoted the political history that privileges the study of nations, states, and their leaders. Peter Burke (1992: Sff.) has shown that the reason why political history (and with it the centrality of the state in historical works) achieved its predominant position during the nineteenth century is narrowly related to two main factors. On the one hand, European governments were viewing history as a means of spreading the national values of the relatively recently created nation-states. On the other, the sources and methods associated with Ranke’s ((1852) had already published his “Outlines of Assyrian History collected from the cuneiform Inscriptions.” 2 Little was known about Assyrians and Babylonians outside the Bible and the Greeks. A couple of decades before cuneiform writing was deciphered, around 1820/30, Hegel (1942: 182) commented: “Traditions respecting them ascend to the remotest periods of History; but in themselves they are obscure, and partly contradictory; and this contradiction is the less easy to be cleared up, as they have no canonical books or indigenous works. (...) Herodotus gives us much information; the accounts in the Bible are also valuable and remarkable in the highest degree, for the Hebrews were immediately connected with the Babylonians.”school replaced chronicles by the use of government records housed in archives. In Assyriology, however, historical methods were not necessarily considered the main concem. The field attracted scholars, theologians, and laymen whose motivations were, in many cases, led by religious instead of historical interests.’ Therefore, approaches to Mesopotamian history were quite diverse. Similarly, the influence of positivism has been manifold and late. I shall refer to some examples to illustrate this situation.* During the second half of the nineteenth century, some Assyriologists seem to have been more familiar with humanism and enlightenment than with positivism. Frangois Lenormant, a professor of archaeology at the “Bibliothéque National” in France, published his Manuel d'Histoire Ancienne de I'Orient jusqu aux Guerres Médiques in 1868.° In the prologue of the first edition, Lenormant remarks on the importance of both archaeological and textual evidence (especially cuneiform documents) to study ‘Mesopotamian history. The work seems to have been welcomed in Assyriological circles, to the extent that it is repeatedly quoted in the literature of the time. The first volume of the ninth edition (Lenormant 1881) is arranged following the narrative sequence of the Bible: the creation of humankind, the first sin, the antediluvian generation, the flood, and > The reasons for this are manifold, and the affinities between Mesopotamian literature and the Bible nurtured the most diverse fantasies. Theologians and scholars kept themselves busy writing, books and articles to prove either that the Bible was right, or that it was wrong. During the first decade of the twentieth century, the debate “Babel/Bible” reached its zenith after a lecture delivered in 1902 by Delitzsch. A series of even more controversial talks and articles followed, in which Delitzsch systematically questioned the Bible (e.g.,.Delitzsch 1906). The debate was of such great interest to the publi hat even the Emperor Wilhelm I took part init (see Larsen 1995). + A thorough research of all the works on history of Ancient Mesopotamia is far beyond the scope of this section, I just trace some general tendencies. * The Manuel d'Histoire Ancienne de I'Orient was followed in 1881 by the publication of a three- volume set with the same title, only that the word “Manuel” was omitted in the new edition. Of these three volumes, the first deals with The Origins and the two others with Egypt. After Lenormant’s death three more volumes dealing with Mesopotamia were published in 1886. E. Babelon, one of Lenormant’s students, completed the work. Thus, towards 1886 the Histoire Ancienne bad tumed into a massive publication.0 forth.° This approach is paradigmatic and it was generally adopted because Biblical narratives were used as a frame to hold and make sense of a wide range of examples collected from the Ancient Near East. Cuneiform evidence was always interpreted in relation to the Bible. Lenormant’s strategy is, first, to identify the cuneiform accounts with those in the Bible, and second to verify the Biblical text in the light of Mesopotamian sources. This section of the book resembles more a study on comparative mythology than a historical work, Moreover, at some points the mythical is blended with the historical. The interplay between history and myth also appears in History of Babylonia by George Smith (1877).’ This becomes clear from the beginning of the book, where Smith provides a chronology divided into mythical and historical periods. As a result, kings, gods and fantastic beings alike populate the pages of his work. Even though Smith specifies that it is necessary but not always possible to separate stories from historical matters, he assigns a central place to the Mesopotamian flood story.* Smith also emphasizes the importance of cuneiform documents to supplement the Bible. However, after his treatment of mythological times, Smith’s history becomes more realistic, for he is able to follow the threads of a political history primarily based on royal inscriptions. * itis important to mention that Lenormant undertakes a comparative approach on these topics as considered by different peoples, with examples that go from ancient Mesopotamia to pre~ Hispanic America, even though the emphasis is on the Orient. 7 G. Smith, an Assyriologist who worked translating cuneiform texts at the British Museum, gained popularity due to his discovery of the Mesopotamian flood story, published in 1876 as Chaldean Account of Genesis. * After a lengthy comment on the Flood story he says: “The cuneiform inscriptions throw a little light on this obscure interval, but some of the accounts are overloaded with miraculous and impossible stories, from which itis difficult to separate the historical matter.” However, he still tries to reconstruct history based on this literary text: “From these it appears that in early times this part of the world was divided into small principalities, when there arose a hero whom I provisionally call Izduhubar, but who corresponds in my opinion to the Nimrod of the Bible” (pp. 54-55). The character whom Smith calls Izduhugar is Gilgame3.‘There are huge historical gaps and uncertainties because many of the documents that are available today were then unknown, for example, the origins of Hammurabi are unclear to Smith.’ On the contrary, his approaches to the first millennium are more detailed, and the Biblical account is interwoven with information from cuneiform inscriptions and Greek authors. Consequently, Smith explains the fall of Babylon in the admonitory terms of the Bible: the decline was related to moral and mental decay.'” And he further traces the influence that ancient Mesopotamia had on Westem civilization and human progress. This linear evolution of human history was also one of Lenormant’s starting points. ‘The end of the nineteenth century witnessed the edition of Babylonians and Assyrians, by A. H. Sayce (1899), a priest and professor of Assyriology at Oxford. This work is not, strictly speaking, a book on ancient history; it rather focuses on Mesopotamian “life and customs.” According to J. Craig, the editor of the series on “Semitic handbooks,” one of the aims of the work is to show how Semitic peoples influenced Wester civilization.'' Sayce is not concemed with chronology or positivist methods. He refers to native sources, the Greeks, and the Bible without any critical remark. Sayce’s book is organized around topics quite arbitrarily arranged; for example, the author included death in the same chapter with education. Despite the advances in philology, the information in cuneiform sources that had been translated was still not sufficient to analyze some of the topics addressed in the book; therefore, the author has to ° Sayce, who was selected to publish the book after Smith’s death, added some comments to supplement or update Smith’s views. In one of his footnotes, he states that Hammurabi was probably a Cassite from Elam. "° In Smith’s words: “The fall of Babylon was brought about through the vice and corruption of the religion and morals of the country. The numerous deities, the slavish superstition, the obscene rites of the goddesses ..., combined with a general moral and mental decay, were more disastrous to the country than the arms of the Persian conquerors” (p. 179). "J. A. Craig wrote in the preface: “What these peoples thought and achieved has a very direct bearing upon some of the problems that lie nearest to the hearts of a large portion of the intelligent peoples of Christendom to-day” (p. v).resort to his imagination nurtured by his religious background to fill some of the gaps. ‘That is the case when Sayce considers Mesopotamian government as a theocracy governed by a king-priest who was “quite as much a pontiff as he was a king” (p. 168). Like many of his contemporaries, the author was interested in identifying and classifying races, and he repeatedly opposes the Semites to the Sumerians.'? Furthermore, when Sayce discusses Mesopotamian education, it is difficult to avoid the impression that he is, referring to Oxford and not to Ancient Mesopotamia. Thus, he assumes that the library was attached to the school which “in latter times developed into a university”; he compares cuneiform tablets with modern books, whereas his Mesopotamian student resembles an Oxonian. '? The works by Smith and Sayce do not seem to follow any historical method. In that sense, they differ from Lenormant’s proposal. Lenormant states that he belongs to Bossuet’s school because he considers history as the result of a providential plan.'* Although he defines himself as a Christian, he remains open to admitting scientific evidence even if this may contradict some religious beliefs.'* In the late 1860's following Bossuet ~-a seventeenth century bishop who maintained that the linear development of history was designed by providential wisdom was a bit anachronistic. '2 Tt was from the Sumerian that the Semite learnt to live in cities. His own word for ‘city’ was du, the Hebrew ‘ohel “a tent,” which is still used in the Old Testament in the sense of *hom{e"]” (Sayce 1899: 4). ‘5 “But the dead language of Sumer was not all that the educated Babylonian or Assyrian gentleman of later times was called upon to know. (...) If Sumerian was the Latin of the Babylonian world, Aramaic was its French” (p. 56) \¢ “En histoire, je suis de I’école de Bossuet. Je vois dans les annales de Ihumanité le développement d'un plan providential qui se suit & travers tous les siécles et tout les vicissitudes des sociétes. (...) Pour moi, comme pour tous le Chrétiens, I’histoire ancienne tout entiére est la préparation, I’histoire moderne la conséquence du sacrifice divin du Golgotha” (Lenormant 1881: x). "5 “Je suis Chrétien, et je le proclame hautement. (...) Fils soumis de I"Eglise je n’en revendique qu’avec plus d’ardeur les droits de Ia liberté scientifique” (p. xi).Bossuet’s own work Discours sur l'histoire universelle (1681), written almost two centuries before Lenormant’s time, was one of the last contributions of its genre. Already in eighteenth-century historiography, the general tendency was to reject theological and providential interpretations in favor of the methods applied to the natural sciences. Apparently, the affinities between Assyriological studies and Biblical topics made it difficult to separate history from religion. [t is in this respect that approaches like those of Lenormant, Smith, and Sayce converge. The Bible was taken as a reference to interpret the dissimilar and fragmentary information coming from cuneiform sources. At the same time, it is possible to trace a selective appropriation of Mesopotamian tradition. On the ‘one hand, these authors considered Mesopotamia to be the cradle of civilization; on the other, they rejected those religious beliefs and political practices related to polytheism and despotism. Obviously, these approaches did not follow Ranke’s historical methods. They rather seem to have mimicked the writings of Herodotus, the father of history, who had the “habit of recording outlandish stories about giant ants and flying snakes,” as Morley (1999: 24) has put it. Other ancient historians and Assyriologists, however, adopted positivist methods during the same period. George Rawlinson, for instance, wrote his Manual of Ancient History (1871) in tune with positivism. * His definition of history emphasizes the centrality of states and nations in studying the past."” The author, consequently, remarks on the importance of the sources of history, which he divides into two groups, written records and antiquities. The Manual is an example of the classical encyclopaedist "6 George Rawlinson was Camden professor of Ancient History at the University of Oxford and the brother of Sir Henry Rawlinson. "” He affirms: “The word ‘History,’ which etymologically means ‘inquiry’ or ‘research’ and which has many slightly differing uses, is attached in modem parlance pre-eminently and especially to accounts of the rise, progress, and affairs of NATIONS [Rawlinson’s emphasis}. (.) History Proper is the history of States or Nations, both in respect of their internal affairs, and in regard to their dealings with one another” (Rawlinson 1871: 13).10 handbook, positivist and yet fond of the cighteenth-century tradition, since it tries to summarize everything known about ancient history. The book was meticulously planned according to a geographical and chronological criterion, and it covers the history of the Near East, Africa, and Europe from the origin of early monarchies (around the year 2000 B.C., according to the author) to the fall of the Roman Empire.'* The section devoted to Ancient Mesopotamia is classified under the title “History of the Ancient Asiatic kingdoms previous to Cyrus,” which includes the Chaldean, Assyrian, Median, and Babylonian monarchies. All of them are characterized as despotic Asiatic kingdoms, and as such, different from European regimes.'? This image of Asiatic despotism as opposed to Wester democratic governments was not new. It had been circulating since the dawn of European political theory, from Aristotle and Montesquieu onwards.” In the middle of the twentieth century K. Wittfogel (1957) tried, with little success, to rescue the concept of “oriental despotism” to fashion a universal model of “hydraulic societies.” Consistent with a positivist method, Hommel published his Geschichte Babyloniens und Assyriens in 1885. The work follows a strict plan to study Babylonians and Assyrians separately. For Hommel, world history begins in Babylonia. To document this statement, he enumerates some Mesopotamian original contributions to Western “* Rawlinson considers the Chaldean as the most ancient dynasty of Mesopotamia, which predates the Assyrian and Babylonian. For this chronology he refers to Berossus and the Bible: “Here “Moses places the first ‘kingdom’ (Gen. x. 10); and here Berossus regarded a Chaldean monarchy as established probably as early as B.C. 2000” (Rawlinson 1871: 39). '® In the author’s words: “The form of government is in every case a monarchy; the monarchy is always hereditary; and the hereditary monarch is a despot. (...) Despotism is the simplest, coarsest, and rudest of all the forms of civil government. It was thus naturally the first which men, pressed by a sudden need, extemporized. And in Asia the wish has never arisen to improve upon this primitive and imperfect essay” (p. 36). ® In a frequently quoted passage of his Politics, Aristotle stated that Asians endured despotic rule without protest because they were more servile than Europeans (Politics I ix, 3). On his part, Montesquieu developed a comparative theory of “despotism” as a non-European type of government. See De l'Esprit des Lois.rT culture, as for example the division of an hour in sixty minutes, the naming of the days after the planets, or even some mythological motives. This influence was transmitted from Mesopotamia to Asia Minor, to the Greeks and Romans and from them, later on, to Romance and Germanic Europe. Immediately after, Hommel argues against a supposedly Egyptian stream of influence, which makes his line of reasoning quite apparent: Mesopotamian “high culture” is synonymous with Sumerian culture, and, as such, it is non-Semite.”' Documents and chronology occupy a pre-eminent place in the book. Hommel classifies the sources into “National,” “Western,” and “Biblical” and he explains the difficulties and advantages of each group. It is worth mentioning that, unlike other Assyriologists, Hommel does not consider literary texts as historical sources in a strict sense; however, he still regards literature as a useful tool to study the past. As for chronology, he stresses the importance of king lists, and his chronological charts are devoid of any mythological allusion. Hommel’s historical method is supplemented by a meticulous classification of archaeological and philological evidence, and when the sources allow him, political history becomes the central theme. When royal deeds cannot be traced, Hommel resorts to archaeological data to fill in the blanks, thus for instance in his chapter dealing with the second millennium. Rawlinson and Hommel’s positivist methods include questioning the importance and meaning of history, the evaluation and systematization of evidence, and from them history emerges. In this sense, their work is less imaginative and more accurate than Smith’s or Sayce’s. These different approaches to Mesopotamian history are a matter of method, not just a matter of sources. Thus, for instance, in 1871 Rawlinson had at his 3" “Wir sehen die semitischen Babylonier, die noch als Nomaden ins Land kamen, hineinwachsen in die von ihnen angenommene und dann weiter ausgebildete sumerische Kultur, bis zuletzt als, Ergebni® dieses Prozesses die so hoch entwickelte babylonische Gesamtkultur vor unsern Augen dasteht. (...) Als vollig gesichert wird sich dabei stets das ergeben daB, die Grundlagen dieser Kultur nichtsemitischen Ursprungs sin{d,”} (Hommel 1885: 6).12 disposal about the same amount of documents that Smith had, but Rawlinson did not include the antediluvian period in his chronology, although he refers to Moses (p. 39). ‘When compared with Rawlinson’s study, Hommel’s approach to the sources seems to be more exhaustive, for he tries to include every piece of information known to him. However, this does not necessarily improve his conclusions. After all, history is not the accumulation of events of all kinds which occurred in the past (see Hobsbawn 1997: 75); and it is precisely at this point where Hommel's method fails because excessive taxonomy suffocates his interpretations. Methodological differences aside, Assyriologists in the nineteenth century shared some culture-oriented assumptions and thematic interests. The decipherment of cuneiform writing opened a wide range of topics that had been inaccessible until then. The native sources were initially read in terms of the Bible and Greek authors. Related to this, there was also a tendency to trace a unilinear development of Westem history, which started in Mesopotamia and slowly moved towards Europe.” At the same time, there was also a firm attempt to classify peoples following a racial criterion, which heavily influenced the economic and social interpretation of societies.”* This is the case with the approach to nomadism and sedentarism, in which the former is considered a primitive ” At the beginning of the twentieth century, this theory seems to have been pushed to an extreme by some authors who belonged to the so-called Astral-mythological or Pan-Babyionian school, originated in Germany. A contemporary Assyriologist, Clay (1919: 9), interpreted the premises of the Pan-Babylonian school in these terms: {this theory] “maintained that Babylonia had furnished the Hebrews with most of their religious ideas, including monotheism; in fact, the members of this school held that the civilization of Israel generally had its origins in Babylonia.” [tis worth mentioning that already in the first decade of the twentieth century some scholars questioned this approach. Thus, for example Jastrow (1980: 120 [1915]) wrote: “There is no more foolish boast than that of purity of race. A pure race (...) if it exists at al, is also a sterile race.” However, Jastrow keeps the difference between the non-Semitic Sumerians and the Semitic ‘Akkadians, and he further proceeds to describe the physiognomic features of each group. A similar approach appears in many other works. L. King (1915: 138), for instance, states: “The racial type presented by the heads appears to be purely Sumerian, and, though one figure at least is bearded, the Sumerian practice of shaving the bead was evidently in vogue.”13 stage in the chain of social evolution. There is, finally, a pronounced inclination to study political history and the deeds of great men. These tendencies - which in Assyriology originated in the second half of the nineteenth century-- continued during the first half of the twentieth and beyond. Nonetheless, the more imaginative histories gave way to more prosaic and factual approaches. Realism prevailed over imagination, facts and sources over narrative. Relying on sources, albeit necessary, does not guarantee a successful understanding of social, economic or political institutions and processes. As is well known, even in exclusively factual studies, previous assumptions, interpretations, and the making of hypotheses are still present. M. Civil (1980) has already argued against the alleged rigor of some “recipes” applied to previously assorted information, as well as against the results of purely inductive methods used by some Assyriologists.”* In spite of objectivity claims, grasping data from the sources uncritically can be as misleading as the avoidance of evidence in favor of theoretical models.”* In ancient Mesopotamian history, the so-called temple and state economy theory illustrates some of these problems. This interpretation maintains that in Mesopotamia of the third millennium land was owned exclusively by either the temple or the state (e.g., Schneider 1920, Deimel 1931, Falkenstein 1954, Kraus 1954, Foster 1981, Steinkeller 1999). Schneider and Deime! 44 premiére vue la recette garantit des résultats rigouresement scientifiques fondés ‘exclusivement sur induction. En pratique matheureusement on se sentira dégu par la pauvreté et Ia maigreur des résultats. Quand les conclusions offrent un intérét veritable (...), on s’apergoi vite ‘que, sans le vouloir, le cheurcheur a instinctivement ajouté des ingrédients qui ne figuraient pas sur la recette originale” (Civil 1980: 225). 5 A paradoxical example is the book by S. Walters (1970). In this work, the author edits a group of cuneiform documents dealing with irrigation, supposedly from Larsa (p. xxiv). The texts are interpreted following K. Wittfogel’s premises on “Oriental Despotism.” One of Wittfogel’s classic sentences is mentioned in the introductory chapter, while in the conclusion Walters states: “many of Wittfogel’s rubrics can be clearly illustrated from the Lu-igisa archive...” (p. 165). As a result, Larsa during the early OB period is characterized as a “hydraulic society.” However, Walters believes to have also found feudal traces in this society; without even realizing that, in Wittfogel’s theory, such a coexistence is impossible.14 based their temple economy theory on the analysis of thousands of documents from the archive of the “temple” or “household” of the goddess Bau in the region of Laga8, which only covers about twenty-five years. The economic model drawn from this single archive ‘was universally applied to the rest of ancient Mesopotamia during the third millennium (Gelb 1969: 139). This interpretation gained consensus among Assyriologists until Diakonoff (1969) and Gelb (1969) seriously questioned the validity of such a generalization.”* The temple economy theory is an instructive example, because it shows that a meticulous study of sources was interpreted, overtly or not, in the light of premises originated from different branches of the social sciences (political economy, sociology, etc.) since the early eighteenth century. Although these theories have different nuances, they seem to have agreed on the fact that the state (religious or secular, or both at the ‘same time) was the eminent owner of all the land in most oriental societies. I shall refer to this later, The centrality of the state in the historical tradition plus the institutional character of the archives seem to have left little room for posing the question about what was happening beyond the state, that is, in society. Other historians, on the contrary, despised those exclusively factual and descriptive studies on history. In a book published in 1949, for instance, Marc Bloch (1993) argued against the positivism of Comte’s followers because he considered that, these scholars were misled by a rigid image of science. Bloch also criticized Ranke’s well-known proposal of reporting facts as they really happened, for history should be analytical instead of descriptive. According to him, the historian should not restrict his work solely to the compilation of data and artifacts which belong to the domain of the antiquarian. Rather, s/he needs to turn historical facts into historical problems, and go ? It is important to mention that Diakonoff had already formulated his criticism to the temple- state model in the early fifties, thus in “O plo8¢adi i sostave naselenija Sumerskogo ‘goroda- gosudarstva’”, Vesmik Drevnej Istorit, n° 52, 1952: 77-93.15 beyond the mere chronicle of leaders and their deeds. Unlike the antiquarian, Bloch’s concern was economic and social history. Similarly, Gordon Childe (1956 [1936]) objected to the political history which records the “manoeuvres” of kings, statesmen, and those institutions (religious or secular) related to them. Neither the medievalist Mare Bloch nor the archaeologist Gordon Childe specialized in contemporary history. Yet, they were both promoting the study of socio-economic processes as the comprehensive alternative to traditional history based exclusively on the concatenation of political events. The efforts to install social (and economic) history at the center of the debate in the early twentieth century can be interpreted as a reaction against the use of nineteenth- century historical methods, which some intellectuals interpreted as a regression from eighteenth-century social theory. As an alternative to that situation, they proposed a “total history.” However, the second half of the twentieth century witnessed the proliferation of different approaches. History from below, women’s history, overseas history, microhistory, history of reading, history of images, history of political thought, history of the body, history of the event, and the revival of narrative are some of the examples enumerated in the table of contents of a recent book (Burke 1995). To this list one should add the reduction of historiography to rhetoric /a Roland Barthes or Hayden White (see Ginzburg 1999: 38ff.), where the role of narrative is over-emphasized to the extent that people have been pushed into the background of historical analysis. Paradoxically, the premises laid for a “total” history seem to have paved the way for the fragmentation of the discipline into a multiplicity of areas with different methodological and theoretical claims. Since the second half of the twentieth century, then, historiography is blossoming with new proposals to write history. I shall consider, next, the impact of these theories on Assyriological studies during the second half of the twentieth century. Historiography discussions are generally absent or difficult to find in writings on the history of ancient Mesopotamia. As a result, one gets the impression that, for the most16 part, the Assyriologist is skeptical about convoluted theoretical proposals and prefers to remain as loyal to the documented facts as possible.” This assumption, albeit naive, finds support in the amount of works written under the strictest of the positivist methods. Articles organized list-fashion (to which some explanatory remarks are added to keep a narrative format) or history books on the ancient Near East that resemble ancient chronicles and modern catalogues can be cited. When considering these approaches, difficult to avoid certain similarities between the Assyriologist and the antiquarian. A. Momigliano (1990: 54) has depicted the antiquarian as “the type of man who is interested in historical facts without being interested in history,” although he immediately adds “the pure antiquarian is rarely met with.” Momigliano’s antiquarian was a pre-historiography being and as such a rare specimen; but his characterization fits into Bloch’s criticism of the positivist historian, as we have seen. Nevertheless, it is worth acknowledging that there have been some serious attempts to transcend those purely factual approaches. Thus, in the early sixties, A. L. Oppenheim (1960) wrote an outstanding article to point out some of the methodological flaws in Assyriology.* One of his concerns was to reach a “better understanding” of the institutional structure of Mesopotamia. To accomplish this aim, he suggested co-operation between the Assyriologist and scholars in other fields such as economics, the social sciences, and, above all, cultural anthropology. Oppenheim privileged cultural anthropology because, according to him, “the Humanities have never been quite successful in treating alien civilizations with that tender care and ” Commenting on C. Lévi-Strauss’ studies J. Bottéro affirms: “Il n’est évidemment pas du tout de ma planéte. Je crois subodorer chez lui trop de systémes qui ne sont, que de mythologies modernes, fondées, non sur le vrai, mais sur le vraisemblable et pourtant, & notre fagon, colorées un jargon (Bottéro, J. & H. Monsacré 1994: 287). On his part, Diakonoff (1995: 91) has criticized Charpin’s avoidance of making hypotheses in these terms: “In this he seems to me to overdo his rigourousness, sometimes reminding one of the famous German scholar who is said to have announced that ‘denken ist unwissenschaftlich.”” ™ This article, slightly modified, appeared as the first chapter of Oppenheim’s Ancient Mesopotamia.17 deep respect that such understanding demands” (Oppenheim 1960: 419). Of course this statement is arguable, but this is not the place to do so. Let us consider, instead, Oppenheim’s methodological remarks. The treatment of written sources holds a central place in his arguments. He highlights the need to differentiate between those texts that belong to the “stream of tradition” (mainly literary works) and those documents that, record economic or legal transactions. This constitutes one of his starting points to argue against the use of literary texts as historical sources, especially because of the inclination to identify Mesopotamian literature with Greek or Western genres, and to trace back the origin of social and political institutions in literary compositions. As an alternative to this, he stresses the potential richness of those cuneiform tablets that record “day-to-day” activities, i.e., economic and legal documents. Oppenheim also criticized the arbitrary uses of sources by those scholars who attempt to relate Assyriological data to the Old Testament, or to relate the same data to current fashions in any field of the humanities. Finally, Oppenheim includes among the “tabooed topics” of the field historical studies beyond the mere descriptive and unilinear development of facts.” Those Assyriologists fond of tradition maintained that Oppenheim’s views were too radical.”° Therefore, his suggestions were criticized, rejected, and finally disregarded by some of his colleagues. One of the best examples of this reaction is the inaugural lecture delivered by D. Wiseman (1962) at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. As the new Chair of the School, he sketched the history of the > In Oppenheim’s words: “The avoidance of historical studies, beyond the level of the necessary constant adjustment of the chronological framework is made somewhat less obvious by the smoke screen of the clichés on which the historians of the last century thrived, such as migrations, dark ages, intermediate periods, etc.” (Oppenheim 1960: 419). * About some reactions to the publication of Oppenheim’s article, E. Leichty comments: “His attempts to ‘reform’ the field, expressed in Assyriology —Why and How? were considered as personal attacks by many of his contemporaries. His penchant for overstating everything to make his point often led his colleagues to feel personally abused and become angry with him” (Leichty 1975: 369).18 field and its prospective directions. His lecture was meant to acknowledge the merits of the fathers of Assyriology, to point out the progress that the discipline had experienced since the decipherment of cuneiform writing, and to express his disagreement with Oppenheim’s views. Thus, for example, Wiseman insists on the importance of comparing the “epic of Gilgamesh” with Homeric literature, and of relating Assyriological research to the Old Testament. According to Wiseman, the article attempts to “show something of the impact Assyriology now has upon cognate learning” (p. 28). His enumeration of the ancient Mesopotamian’s achievements (including the solution of the Pythagorean theorem before Pythagoras) points in that direction. This evaluation of the discipline is closer to the antiquarian than to the historian, and it is definitely uncritical. As a result, Wiseman’s suggestions for the “way ahead” offer few new perspectives. His advice is to continue in the same track because the accumulation of data naturally brings more knowledge. Although contemporary historians may have thought that Oppenheim’s claims were quite basic, Oppenheim was in the vanguard of his discipline. His discussions and Wiseman’s responses clearly reflect that, in spite of philological achievements, some Assyriologists were still following those topics, methods, and traditions initiated in the nineteenth century. The descriptive instead of analytical reading of the sources, the use of literary sources as historical documents, the importance of the Bible in Mesopotamian history, and the centrality of the state and political history are some of the most recurrent examples.°' Oppenheim’s and Wiseman’s disagreement on methodological grounds is unusual in Assyriology. Obviously, this does not mean that Assyriologists agree on everything, their discussions, however, tend to be focused on very precise philological matters or specific interpretations of a text or a group of texts (Oppenheim [1964] 1997: *" Sasson (1981) has discussed the problems of using the Bible to interpret the history of the ancient Near East.19 29, Yoffee 1977: 4). But generally, they do not address the issue of how to write Mesopotamian history, which seems also to be the case if to a lesser extent in classical studies (Morley 1999). The problems of theory and method are of a very complex nature, and it is something that goes far beyond the use of high-sounding clichés. Moreover, there is no panacea, no magical method, and one should definitely suspect the efficacy of recipes. Historiography is not a handy cookbook in which to search for new concoctions. The importance of historiography resides, precisely, in the fact that it reports on historical methods and argues about the way historians write history. In brief, it shows us the advantages and flaws of those practices that fashion the historian’s craft. It should also lead the Assyriologist to pose the question: what shall we do after we do philology? History without a theoretical and methodological framework is not history but the antiquarian’s craft, and history without facts is metaphysical speculation. Obviously, the lack of documentation does not mean that what is not recorded does not exist, as van Driel (1998) has recently put it. It means that, even though we should not ignore unrecorded facts, we cannot grasp and analyze them thoroughly. A theoretical and methodological framework encompasses, as I understand it, a set of assumptions that enables the historian to investigate a historical problem beyond the mere practices of the antiquarian. In that sense, it is not necessarily the topic or the problem that conditions the analysis; there is rather an interplay between problem and theory. For example, I have already mentioned that the centrality of the state in historical analysis since the nineteenth century is related to political reasons (the diffusion of nation-state values, to put it briefly) and to theoretical and methodological reasons (the apogee of positivism and archival research). The positivist historian, consequently, privileged the study of the sue and great leaders, as plainly stated by Rawlinson, for instance (p. 13). However, the state has also been the concem of historians who rejected positivism. As a result, even though the research revolves around the same problem, the use of different theoretical and methodological premises will lead to different conclusions. Thus, one would hardly find20 the positivist historian concluding that: “A ‘history from above’ -of the intricate machinery of class domination—is thus no less essential than a ‘history from below"” (Anderson 1974: 11). The state occupies a central role in Mesopotamian studies in part because of the discipline’s heavy positivist heritage, and partly because of the kind of sources at our disposal. All of our documents were issued either by the state or by elite segments of the population, which leaves little or no possibility of doing “history from below.” Nevertheless, blaming cuneiform tablets is not helpful; instead, different textual approaches allow us to reconsider the way we use “historiographic” or even literary compositions as historical sources (Liverani 1973). When properly interrogated, old and very well known documents can reveal more than is usually assumed.” In the case of political history, for example, Liverani (1979; 1981) has proposed alternative readings of the Assyrian royal inscriptions so as to unfold the royal ideology. He has also studied the classic “Annals of AsSurnasirpal II” considering their morphology and topography to detect the differences among the king’s campaigns (Liverani 1992, E. Badali er al. 1982). Similarly, Michalowski (1993) has critically analyzed documentary and archaeological evidence to ascertain the political expansion of the Akkad state. From a very different though no less interesting perspective, Finkelstein (1972) -based on the analysis of laconic economic documents-- has discovered a migration of priests from southern to northern Mesopotamia due to the turmoil of Samsu-iluna’s reign (see also Charpin 1986 and Yoffee 1998). These studies, although rather exceptional, show that many avenues * For a different opinion, see Van De Mieroop (1999). > Liverani (1992: 13) has pointed out that from the 1920’s to the early 1970's “the Assyrian royal inscriptions, mostly already published in the previous century, were considered to be well analyzed from every point of view (...).” Needless to say new studies (by Liverani and others) have proven that the old inscriptions had not been exhausted yet.2 towards a different political history of ancient Mesopotamia are waiting to be explored (see Van De Mieroop 1999). ‘The range of possibilities in the areas of social and economic history is no less promising. The approaches to these problems have been more diverse than the studies dealing with political history, and reflect the elaborate way in which the results of meticulous taxonomies have been exposed to different models. Ln this respect, positivist methods are not easy to identify any more because -even though they might have been applied to process data~- sociological, anthropological, and economic theories strongly influenced the analysis of economic and social history. The debates known as “primitivism-modernism” and “formalism-sustantivism” address the issue of how to approach ancient economies, with particular emphasis on the theoretical tools, especially the use of specific concepts and categories. In agrarian societies, one of the most prominent questions revolves around the fundamental means of production: the land. As already mentioned, the proponents of the temple and state economy theory heavily rely on institutional archives to conclude that, according to the records, either the temple or the palace owned all the land. Obviously, these conclusions have been drawn on the basis of theories of political economy since the early eighteenth century. These theories were mainly the result of combining the idea of Oriental despotism ~as developed by Montesquieu, among others— and the reports on the East originating from European officials and travelers. In the late seventeenth century, the French traveler Bemier had emphasized the importance of state- ‘owned land in the Orient. Adam Smith in his work an the wealth of Nations (1778) adopted Bernier’s description and correlated it with the importance of state hydraulic works. The lines of thought of Montesquieu and Smith continued in the nineteenth century, and were rather influential in Hegel’s characterization of Indian despotism as a system in which the state was above village communities. Marx’s studies of the Asiatic form of property adopted and refashioned most of these ideas, especially as regards theantagonistic relationship between state and communities (Anderson 1974: 4636f.). Most of these theoreticians based their models on the observations of the East as perceived by their contemporaries since the sixteenth century.™ Finally, Weber’s ideas, especially those concerning the patrimonial state, were also very influential in Assyriological studies (e.g., Kraus 1958, Renger 1979, Steinkeller 1999). Although Assyriologists have increasingly been resorting to these theories 10 analyze Mesopotamian economy and society, it is worth mentioning that these models have had to be adapted and modified since most of them had been formulated before the decipherment of cuneiform writing, when the history of the ancient Near East was barely known. The criticism of the temple and palace economy theory led to the formulation of a bipolar model, which opposes the state to the communities. Despite many nuances, Marxist historians subscribe to this approach, which is partially inspired by the Asiatic mode of production (e.g., Diakonoff 1963, 1969 and 1975, Liverani 1975, Zaccagnini 1981, Klima 1983).° Similarly, as a reaction to the temple and palace economy, other scholars (¢.g., Gelb 1969, Stol 1976, Yoffee 1977 and 1978, Charpin 1986, Postgate 1992, Van De Mieroop 1992, Renger 1995, van Driel 2001) have proposed a tripartite interpretation of Mesopotamian economy and society, which besides the state (or the institutions of temple and palace) and the communities, also includes the private sector. ‘These analyses, based mainly on the ownership of arable land, have been the starting » The vast majority if not all of these political theories forged an image of the Orient as something essentially opposite to the Western world. In other words, the Orient was used as a ‘mirror image to understand the West. E. Said’s Orientalism (1978) and, since then, many other scholars have rendered detailed accounts of the way in which Westemers fashioned Oriental cothemess. Maybe one of the most picturesque examples is the display of an Egyptian street in the 1867 “Exposition Universelle” in Paris studied by T. Mitchell (1991). > Itis important to mention that all of these authors also acknowledge the existence of a private sector in the economy; however, antagonistic class interests somehow eclipse the role of this sector. Furthermore, none of these authors adheres strictly to the “Asiatic Mode of Production” as originally sketched by Marx (1964) in a manuscript composed around 1857-8.point for the division of Mesopotamian society into groups defined according to their participation in one of those economic spheres. At present, most Assyriologists seem to subscribe to the tripartite model; however, there is no consensus as to the relative importance of each sector. Thus, for instance, even though Renger (1979) acknowledges the existence of private ownership of land during the Old Babylonian period, he has ‘questioned the idea that private property is the dominant feature. Similarly, Leemans (1983) has seriously doubted the economic significance of communal property in land and the existence of rural communities.** The objection to the economic role of the ‘communities relies on the scanty amount of evidence that the communal sector has yielded. Nevertheless, as we have already mentioned, the lack of documentation does not ‘mean that what is unrecorded did not exist. The real problem resides in the fact that, because there is no direct evidence, our knowledge about Mesopotamian rural communities is an anthropological construct more than anything else (van Driel 2001). Most of these discussions have influenced studies of Old Babylonian history, as will be seen in the next sections. IIL. The Old Babylonian Period IIL. 1. Political History The Old Babylonian period (ca. 2000 — 1595 B.C.) does not escape the difficulties pertaining to the study of ancient Mesopotamian history in general.>” To start with, the % Lemans’ (1983: 105) conclusion is categorical: “En tout cas, vers la fin du 3e. millénaire, il n’existe pas de communautés rurales, et non plus dans la période vieux-babylonienne/ assyrienne, 4 Pexception peut-étre des tribus semi-nomades de la région da moyen Euphrate.” » For the sake of convention, I am following the middle chronology, which places the fall of Babylon in 1595 B.C. However, recent studies favor a shorter chronology, according to which the fall of Babylon occurred between 1507 and 1491 B.C. (see Gasche et al. 1998: 78). It is important to mention that for some kings and kingdoms the dates and the order of succession are far from clear. For instance, that is the case with E’nunna (e.g., Charpin 1985) and the dynasty of Manan (eg, Charpin 1978, Wu and Dalley 1990).24 denomination “Old Babylonian” is in itself problematic, because it refers to the specific dialect of the Akkadian language used between the Old Akkadian and the Middle Babylonian periods. Historians tend to acknowledge the arbitrariness of different chronologies, which are usually established taking into account political, cultural, or economic parameters; but it is unusual to take a language as a chronological criterion in history. However, the linguistic classification of most of Mesopotamian chronology is so internalized in Assyriological circles that changing it granting the general acceptance of a new proposal—would probably bring more confusion than clarity. Due to the inefficacy of such a general name, and also because many dissimilar things happened during the Old Babylonian period, it has been split into different sub-periods: the early Old Babylonian (including Isin-Larsa), the Hammurabi, and, finally, the late Old Babylonian period.* This sub-division corresponds, in general terms, with the traditional view of the rise, apogee, and fall of political powers, in this case, the First Dynasty of Babylon. The political history of the Old Babylonian period has been, for many years, based on the information coming from royal and votive inscriptions, year-names, and the like. Two main reasons account for such a procedure; on the one hand early researchers had only a minimal amount of economic or legal documents from which to draw a general picture of Old Babylonian economic and social history. On the other, they were convinced that political history was History, in capital letters. The ancient Mesopotamian king commissioned that sort of self-laudatory literature for a highly selective audience: For his part, D. O. Edzard (1957) has proposed, following the Egyptian chronology, the concept of Zwischenzcit or “intermediate period” to designate those periods (among them the early Old Babylonian) wherein political fragmentation followed strong governments. » Yoffee (1988: 2ff.) has critically reviewed different theories about the collapse of ancient states. Mesopotamian historians tend to adopt the cyclical explanation that regards the collapse as something inevitable, following the Greek historians and, more recently in the twentieth century, ‘Spengler and Toynbee.25 the gods, whose favors the ruler sought; and future kings.”° Artifacts bearing these inscriptions were displayed in temple courtyards or buried in foundation deposits of temples and palaces. These monuments and objects were mostly hidden, whereas those on display had the power of the recondite because the common Mesopotamian was illiterate. Year-names (which enumerate the king’s pious or righteous deeds of the previous yeat) were addressed to a more mundane public: the scribes, who used them to date economic and legal documents. For the historian, the richness of these sources is apparent; however, in many cases royal inscriptions have exercised on the modern reader a power of conviction that they did not necessarily convey to the ancient Mesopotamian.*' Consequently, it is not infrequent to encounter historical interpretations that tend to reproduce royal ideology. Maybe the most paradigmatic and extreme example is the depiction of Hammurabi as “the” king of justice. ? As Sasson (1995: 901) “° This is especially the case with texts and monuments bearing a curse formula addressed to the hypothetical king (or his appointee) who might destroy the inscription or change the original ‘name to his own (Kupper 1990). “ Liverani (1995: 2365) maintains that there was a “materialistic level of understanding that the royal inscriptions tried to sublimate and conceal: namely that even the most powerful kings would ‘not have been able to keep their kingdoms in subjection by pure force, were it not for the words of propaganda causing people to believe that the social and political imbalances were necessary ..).” Of course, the equilibrium between consensus and coercion was very important. However, because the number of potential readers was very small, it is also possible to argue that such a balance may have been achieved by means other than royal inscriptions, as for example the performance of certain ceremonies. Public displays were propitious occasions where words and ‘gestures could be effectively combined to generate consensus. “2 This image was actually substantiated after 1902 when Scheil found the stele with the “Code of ‘ammurabi” in Susa and translated it the same year. History books before 1902 reproduce some passages of Hammurabi’s inscriptions in which he is related to building activities, and sometimes his victory over Rim-Sin of Larsa is also emphasized (e.g., Lenormant 1885: 101-105, Homme! 1885: 375fF.). Towards the first decade of the twentieth century, the reading of the Code not only fashioned a new profile of Hammurabi as the king of justice but also economy and society were ‘now interpreted through the magnifying glass of this inscription (e.g., King 1915, Jastrow 1980 (1915). Many scholars have adopted that interpretation including recent works (¢.g., Contenau 1954, Kuhrt 1995, Nemet-Nejat 1998).26 has pointed out, “Hammurabi and ‘Lawgiver’ have come to be practically synonymous in ‘most modem publications.” Second-millennium Mesopotamian history is a time rich in very diverse documentation from a variety of cities and smaller sites. These sources reveal a political pattern in which a number of independent city-states compete with each other for pre- eminence. During this period, the center of political power changed from the south to the north: cities such as Babylon, ESnunna and Mari gained predominance over the cities of southern Mesopotamia. The atomization of power together with unification ideals created a scenario wherein the alliances and rivalries among rulers changed continually.” This political fragmentation, which becomes apparent immediately after the fall of the Ur III dynasty, is the hallmark of the Old Babylonian period. During the half millennium that spans from the Elamite attack on Ur to the Hittite raid on Babylon, only one king, Hammurabi, achieved a substantial unification of Mesopotamia. However, kingdom was short-lived. It was consolidated only after the defeat of Rim- Sin of Larsa, in Hammurabi’s thirtieth year (1763), and the first problems in the south, were already manifesting themselves in the ninth year of his successor Samsu-iluna (Stol 1976). After the fall of the Ur III dynasty, changing scenarios are the rule. King Ibbi-Sin The alliances were sealed by means of treaties, gift exchange and marriages. Political marriages are best documented in the archives of Mari. However, some evidence from other kingdoms is also available, thus for instance, a daughter of Hammurabi was married to Silli-Sin of ESnunna (Durand 1992: 108). An alliance by marriage was also established by Sin-Ka8id of Uruk, who married a daughter of Simd-la’el (Falkenstein 1963: 6-7). “ The end of the Ur III and the Old Babylonian dynasties due to invasions ate, of course, only conventional landmarks. Ur had held Susa from the reign of Sulgi until the reign of Ibbi-Sin (Stolper 1982: 49) and probably earlier under Ur-Namma (Michalowski 1989: 3). Finally, taking advantage of the internal conditions of the Ur III state, king Kindattu from Sima3ki (a state that had previously taken Susa and the rest of Khuzistan from the control of Ur) (Stolper 1982) defeated [sbi-Erra of Ur. A hymn of this king also mentions this situation (van Dijk 1978). The Hittite raid on Babylon was even more fleeting. Mursilis I sacked Babylon and took the statue of Marduk to Hana, where it seems to have remained for years. A Kassite literary text (Foster 1996: 274ff.) commemorates the recovery of the statues of Marduk and his consort Sarpanitum. The deed was attributed to Agum-kakrime.raf ‘was taken prisoner, and ISbi-Erra claimed the legitimate succession to Ur and its reduced territory. At the end of the twentieth century the putative pattern of continuity with the Ur Ill tradition was broken: Lipit-IStar of Isin would be the last member of the dynasty founded by [&bi-Erra. The descendants of Naplanum established a dynasty at Larsa and took control over Ur; but later a new ruler, Niir-Adad, displaced this line at Larsa (van Dijk 1965: 15). This state of affairs encouraged the emergence of independent dynasties at cities such as Uruk, Ki8, and Babylon; and also the first interference in the south by a king of Assyria, [lu-Summa. The rivalries between Isin and Larsa for hegemony over Mesopotamia came finally to an end when Rim-Sin of Larsa defeated Damiq-iligu of Isin in 1794.5 Important changes occurred also in the northern region. Soon after AsSur won independence from the Third Dynasty of Ur, the Assyrian traders began to penetrate Cappadocia. It was also after Ur III that the first Old Assyrian king, Puzur-AsSur I, seized power in ASSur. His grandson was removed by SamSi-Adad, an Amorite usurper who took control of the town of Ekallétum and of the Assyrian territories. Under his reign, the “Assyrian King List” was composed as an attempt to legitimize his usurpation of the throne (Larsen 1976: 34ff.). Meanwhile, Yahdun-Lim was conquering territory on the Middle Euphrates; and in one of his inscriptions he proclaimed himself “king of Mari, Tuttul, and the land of Hana” (Frayne 1990: 602ff.). He established Mari as the political and Terqa as the religious capital of his realm. Kings of E’nunna, Ipiq-Adad and Naram- Sin, who also controlled Assyria temporarily, unified the area opposite to Mari. Thus, the territory under the kings of ESnunna bordered areas that Yahdun-Lim controlled. This territorial alignment did not last very long, since after the death of Naram-Sin, Samsi- “* Van De Mieroop (1993) has critically evaluated the reign of Rim-Sin after his conquest of Isin, especially regarding the administrative reforms that the king implemented towards the middle of his reign.28 ‘Adad seized Ekallatum and then declared himself king of Assyria. Samii-Adad established his capital in Subat-Enlil; and at the same time he appointed his elder son, Isme-Dagan, in Ekalltum, and his younger son, Yasmab-Addu, in Mari. Later on, however, Zimri-Lim, who claimed to be the son of Yabdun-Lim (the former king of Mari), displaced Yasmab-Addu and became the new ruler of Mari (Charpin and Durand 1985). Babylon was yet another example of a city ruled by an Amorite dynasty. King Sum@-la’el established the first core area of the kingdom, and his realm was considerably expanded under his fourth successor, Hammurabi. Until his conquest of Larsa, however, Hammurabi was but one of many kings who succeeded each other in their attempts to unify Mesopotamia under a single kingdom. One of the letters from the royal archives of ‘Mari clearly illustrates the political fragmentation of this period.“ For many years, there were various foci of power in conflict: Mari, Egnunna, Babylon, Larsa, and Elam to the East.” Until the fall of Larsa, the most powerful state in the northern area was E’nunna, not Babylon (Charpin 1992)."* Assyria, ESnunna, and Elam had been in close contact, “© The letter states: “there is no king who is powerful by himself: 10 or 15 kings follow ‘Yammurabi of Babylon, as many follow Rim-Sin of Larsa, Ibal-pi-el of ESnunna, and Amut-pi-el of Qatna, and 20 kings follow Yarim-Lim of Yambad” (Dossin 1938: 117). * In spite of the scarcity of references, contacts with Elam had a long history. Thus, for example, it is known that the subkal of Elam was the arbitrator who distributed the territories that had belonged to Samsi-Adad among Mari, Babylon and ESnunna around Zimri-Lim’s fourth year (Charpin and Durand 1991: 61). Moreover, there are at least two other examples in which the king of Elam refereed the conflicts of Amorite kings. The first is a letter (Rowton 1967: 29) which documents a conflict between Rim-Sin of Larsa and Daduga of ESnunna. The second is another letter (ARM XXVI, 449) in which Zimri-Lim reminds Hammurabi that the sukkal has ‘given him the territories of Hit, Harbu and Yabliya. Furthermore, to judge from some Mari letters, the suka! gave military instructions to Mesopotamian kings such as Rim-Sin of Larsa, Hammurabi of Babylon and Zimri-Lim of Mari (Charpin and Durand 1991: 63). “ This also becomes apparent from a treaty between king Ibal-pi-el II of Egnunna and Zimri-Lim of Mari (Charpin 1991). In this document, Zimri-Lim refers to Tbal-pi-el as “my father,” which shows that he acknowledged ESnunna’s superiority. The only other king whom Zimri-Lim addressed this way was the sukkal of Elam.29 and ESnunna was the joint that articulated them all. This seems to have been the case at least until the death of Sam8i-Adad in Assyria, when Elam conquered ESnunna. From a political point of view, this block of power had few relations with the land of “Sumer and Akkad.” Apparently, that is the reason why documents from Babylon, Isin or Larsa do not mention the importance of Naram-Sin of ESnunna.”” From the economic point of view, it was the tin route that brought Elam, ESnunna, and Mari together (Charpin 1985: 61). Nonetheless, an alliance among Mari, Babylon, and Elam put an end to the supremacy of ESnunna.* Finally, a coalition between Mari and Babylon defeated the king of Elam in the battle of Hirtum (to the south of Sippar).*' A year later, the same allies conquered Larsa; and finally the army of Babylon destroyed Mari. Indeed, it was only towards the end of his reign that Hammurabi was able to unify Mesopotamia. Hammurabi’s successful military campaigns were crowned with the issuing of the well- known “Code” at the end of his forty-third (and last) year (Roth 1997: 71). In its ‘monumental version, the archaizing script and the iconographic representation (which portrays the king together with Sama, the sun-god of justice) conferred authority to the inscription; at the same time, the stele conveyed its message to the literate and the illiterate alike. * itis worth mentioning, however, that there is evidence for trade activities between Egnunna and Larsa. Some letters refer to amounts of grain that Rim-Sin bought from ESnunna, thus for instance in TIM I 22, 28. Charpin (1983-1984: 104 ff.) has discussed these texts. © There is no certainty about the exact year in which ESnunna was defeated. Although Charpin (1985: 52) argued that this event took place during Zimri-Lim’s seventh year (ZL 7°), Durand (1986: 128) bas suggested that the defeat of ESnunna happened in Zimri-Lim’s ninth year (ZL 9). 5" The date of this battle is unknown, but it may have happened in Hammurabi’s twenty-ninth ‘year, because the victory over Elam is mentioned in his thirtieth year formula (Charpin 1986a: 136 n. 49). There are several duplicates of the Laws of Hammurabi. The inscription was carved on stone stelae erected in many Babylonian cities. But the text was also copied on clay tablets by young “Mesopotamian scribes as part oftheir learning process.30 The rule of Amorite dynasties characterized the complex and ever changing Old Babylonian political arena. In antiquity as well as in modem accounts, the Amorites have bea blamed for the collapse of the Ur III dynasty. This interpretation is fundamentally based on Mesopotamian literary sources, as for instance the “Marriage of Martu” (see, eg., Bottéro and Kramer 1989: 434ff.), in which the Amorites are depicted in negative terms. This kind of explanation is restricted to a reproduction of ancient literary clichés; and it has been questioned from an anthropological perspective (Yoffee 1988). Mesopotamian scribal tradition also tended to root the origins of institutions in a very distant past. Thus, in the Sumerian King List (Jacobsen 1939) the ideal of a unified Mesopotamia —in which only one city ruled at any given time over all others- was traced back to time immemorial. Similarly, some of the Amorite kings legitimized themselves by means of a “proper” genealogy: the Assyrian King List of Sam8i-Adad and, later on, the “Genealogy of the Dynasty of Hammurabi” (Finkelstein 1966). When compared with the Sumerian King List, the Assyrian and the Babylonian lists reflect new patterns in the strategy of royal legitimization, which supplement those initiated in earlier traditions. While the Sumerian King List states that power had descended from the heavens to one city after another since antediluvian times, the Amorite kings sought their forefathers in those no less mythical ancestors who dwelt in tents. The differences are, however, more interesting than the similarities. As a usurper, Samsi-Adad needed to establish his reign on firm pillars, hence the writing of the Assyrian King List. Hammurabi, as a successful conqueror, issued his Code and placed ® Yoffee has argued that: “Amorites came to power in the Old Babylonian period, then, not as cide foreigners taking over power from defeated urbanites, but as relatively well organized forces whose leaders were fully urban (I8bi-Erra was himself an Amorite) and able to take advantage of the flux in political leadership in the aftermath of the Ur III collapse” (Yoffee 1988: 51).31 himself close to the sun god of justice.** The list of Babylonian ancestors was written —at least in the extant version—under Ammi-saduga, the penultimate king of the First Dynasty of Babylon. It was composed, therefore, in a period in which the Babylonian kingdom was reduced almost to the original core area of the founders of the dynasty. Finkelstein’s (1966) analysis of “the Genealogy of the Hammurabi Dynasty” has shown its affinities with the Assyrian King List, and the ultimate purpose of the document as a kispum-offering for the dynastic ancestors.°* But Finkelstein has also identified the use of the concept of bala (“age, era”) as the link that ties the genealogy of the Amorites to the canons of the Sumero-Akkadian tradition. By the time of Ammi-saduqa, the fourth descendant of Hammurabi, the unified Mesopotamia was but a memory. King Ammi- saduga was not a usurper, but he was not a successful conqueror either. His legitimization strategy seems to have been no less ambitious, for he combines in a simple text the entire Mesopotamian legacy. Paradoxically, during the last stages of the dynasty, the memory of dead kings together with the literary tradition is what keeps the kingdom alive. As a matter of fact, though, the ideal of a pan-Mesopotamian political unity permanently conflicted with reality. III. 2. Economic and Social History The Old Babylonian is one of the best-documented periods not only of Mesopotamian history but also of ancient history in general. Literary compositions, religious texts and royal inscriptions aside, several thousand clay tablets recording economic transactions, legal procedures, and letters have come to light. Professional and illegal excavations M. Roth (2000: 10) has characterized Hammurabi’s stela as a “multi-meaning artifact,” which combines a “textual and aural/oral” with a “visual” message. + W. Lambert (1968: 1-2) has interpreted this document differently. For him “...the tablet is not a king list, dynastic ancestry, or any kind of historical or quasi-historical compilation, but it is a prayer to the shades of the dead for use in the rites called kispum32 have, in some fortunate cases, unearthed complete archives covering the activities of several generations of Mesopotamian individuals and officials.% Since these documents register institutional and private activities, Old Babylonian social and economic problems have been extensively explored. Yet, there seems to be no agreement as how to characterize many basic socio-economic institutions of the Old Babylonian period (L. Bobrova and S. Koshurnikov 1989: 53). The debate around the economic role and the institutional status of Balamunambe, a very well-known inhabitant of the city of Larsa, could be quoted as an example.‘” The wide range of activities in which Balamunambe was engaged makes him a controversial figure. Thus for instance, Grant (1917) considers Balamunambe a “slave dealer.” Cocquerillat (1967: 168) regards him as a high official whose position could be compared with the one held by Sama8-bazir, one of Hammurabi’s officials in Larsa. Leemans (1968: 64-67) states that Balamunambe was a “manor-lord” with close connections with merchants, but not necessarily a merchant himself. Renger (1979: 251) sees him as a merchant closely related to the state, since he was an elite member. For Van De Mieroop (1987a: 24) Balamunambe was a large landowner involved in agricultural activities and a slave dealer, whose connections with the palace are difficult to prove. Since Balamunambe also appears in contracts dealing with grain deliveries, Breckwoldt (1995: 70) suggests that he was not necessarily a rich and influential private individual but a state official. Finally, Dyckhoff (1998) regards Balamunambe as a scribe and a priest representative of a major center of intellectual life 5 Thus, for instance, the archive of Iddin-Lagamal in Dilbat covers aver four generations (e.g., Klengel 1976, Desroches 1978, Yoffee 1988b). Documents of uncertain provenance can, sometimes, be assigned to specific archives on a prosopographic basis. Only a small number of houses with archives have been excavated and fully studied, among them houses in Ur, Nippur and Sippar-Amnanum (Van De Mieroop 1999a: 255). 5” Balamunambe, the son of Sin-ndr-matim, is attested over a period of thirty-eight years, from Warad-Sin 6 (1829) until Rim-Sin 31 (1792); later documents from his archive belong, apparently, to his grandson who bore the same name (Van De Mieroop 1987: 2).33 in ancient Mesopotamia. These interpretations of a very circumscribed case reflect, on a micro scale, disagreements concerning major socio-economic problems of the Old Babylonian Period in general. Historians usually contrast the social and economic characteristics of the Old Babylonian period with those of Ur III (ca. 2100-2002 B.C.). Subsequently, they also stress the differences between south and north or, in traditional parlance, the “lands of ‘Sumer and Akkad.”** In many cases, however, this kind of comparative method is not felicitous due to the fact that different interpretations have also been posed for the Ur III period. The use of particular theoretical frameworks, therefore, has influenced the evaluation of written and archaeological evidence. Assyriologists have consequently used the same data to test very different hypotheses and to substantiate no less different theories. Postgate (1992: 183) has shown the difficulties of comparing the Ur III to the ‘Old Babylonian period due to nature of the extant records.® It is also worth mentioning that archaeological sites have been unevenly excavated: big mounds are generally privileged over small sites, and within the same site some areas receive more attention than others do (Veenhof 1986: 3). Earlier diggers, furthermore, did not take the care and * Commenting on trade, Powell (1999: 10) has recently asserted: “The “break” between Ur III and Old Babylonian does not seem to have been as profound as sometimes assumed.” Moreover, based on Gasche et a.’s (1998) conclusions, Powell maintains that “the real hiatus in Babylonia ~ cultural and economic, as well as political ~may have begun toward the end of Samsuiluna’s reign...” (p. 10.). * One of the most striking cases is the discussion —and its social and economic implications— about the lack of sale documents of arable land during the Ur III period, and later on in southern Mesopotamia. This fact has been interpreted in different ways, to prove that the state owned all arable land, of to argue about the existence of private property (e.g., Gelb 1969, Renger 1990). ‘Apart from arable land, there is conclusive evidence concerning the sale of orchards and houses, which were privately owned and could be freely alienated (e.g., Steinkeller 1989). © According to Postgate (1992: 183): “...in Ur III times the only substantial group of private documents is from Nippur, while from the Old Babylonian period we hardly have any public documentation relating to land outside Hammurapi’s correspondence with his officials at Larsa.”34 use techniques and methods like those developed more recently.*' But even in better- conducted excavations, early reports were incomplete or, sometimes, the material reported has been difficult to find in the magazines of museums.” In some other cases, documents from legal excavations were mixed with other lots (of uncertain provenance) in the museum’s process of cataloguing (Charpin 1980). Ancient Mesopotamians, furthermore, did not record all the transactions they made (Steinkeller 1989: 149). In addition, many tablets were also discarded in antiquity when considered useless. All these difficulties should definitely be taken into account, because evaluation of how representative of the economic and social reality our sources are is critical. ‘The differentiation between northern and southern Mesopotamia as regards the existence of private land ownership is based on the discussion about the existence or nonexistence of sale documents (Kozyreva 1999: 354). The origins of these debates have to be traced back, not surprisingly, to the temple-state model. In general terms, those authors who adhere to some version of this model, reject ~due to the absence of sale contracts~ any possibility of private property in arable land in southem Mesopotamia during Ur III and the early Old Babylonian period. Many scholars have addressed this topic since the formulation of the temple-state economy theory, in the early 1920's. Renger (1995) has reviewed the notion of private ownership in Mesopotamia from the end of the fourth to the end of the first millennium. According to him, it is possible to delineate an evolutionary process that starts before writing, when rural or village “' The first archaeologists were rather interesting men whose adventures in “the Orient” had a romantic and risky touch. Thus, for instance, Larsen (1996: 52) has portrayed A. H. Layard as the popular movie character “Indiana Jones.” © That was, for instance, the case with some of the hoard of the tools excavated by Loftus in Tell Sifs, which were found in the British Museum some 100 years after their discovery (Moorey et al. 1958). © Renger has addressed the topic in several of his articles; in this one, he considers many of the extant positions, therefore I refer to that work for specific details.35 communities were able to locally manage artificial irrigation. At some point, still before writing, the necessity to organize irrigation at a regional level gave rise to forms of an ‘early state.’ During a second stage, from ca. 3200 to 2500, the communities became weak, and around 2400 institutional households gradually absorbed the remnants of the ‘community systems. Renger considers the sale documents of this period the result of a “land consolidation” process, which was the consequence of the gradual disappearance of the community system. For the Sargonic period (ca. 2334-2154), Renger remarks on a political and ideological change due to the arrival of a new dynasty of Semitic rulers, and the first attestation of documents that record the transfer of ownership rights between individuals in the areas north of Isin and Nippur. The changes in the north are related, according to Renger, to the nomadic past of the new rulers, whereas the south remains in the previous tradition. During the Ur III period (2100 - 2000) in the south, the arable land that the Akkad rulers had taken away from the temples was returned to them; therefore, there was no private individual ownership of fields. Renger, nonetheless, acknowledges the existence of private property in orchards and houses. Finally, in the Old Babylonian period, the Amorite rulers of “nomadic origins” came to power. Although a considerable number of private sale documents from the north are evident, the situation in the south was still similar to that of the Ur III period. Similarly, Jakobson (1971: 33) produces an evolutionary model based, according to him, on Diakonoff. For Jakobson, the property in arable land in the Old Babylonian period was the result ‘ofa complex process. This development could have followed these hypothetical stages: “1) the ‘as the property of the god of the community; 2) the soil as the property of the community itself; 3) the soil as the property of a clan, or an extended family commune inside the community; 4) the soil as the property of an individual family in the person of its patriarch; 5) the soil as the private property of an individual.” © tn Renger’s own words: “... the Semitic population of the north apparently still had ties to their nomadic past and to its characteristic social and political organization; there the sheikh was the dominant figure. Even after having settled more or less permanently in the alluvial plain and having turned into an agricultural society, the Semites seem to have retained these pattems of organization. Thus, the sheikh became king. His position as a landholder most likely derived from his position as head of a clan whose collective landholdings he controlled” (1995: 283).36 Steinkeller (1999) has recently adopted and further developed Renger’s conclusions to explain land-tenure conditions in the third millennium. Steinkeller is particularly interested in the ecological, historical, cultural and religious factors that shaped the dichotomy south-north in ancient Mesopotamia. To explain ecological differences, Steinkeller resorts to Murra’s “vertical control” model, formulated for the Peruvian Andes. As for other factors, he follows Renger’s “ethnic” differentiation between “the southern (Sumerian) and northern (Akkadian) societies,” which was the result of an evolutionary process.® Steinkeller stresses the importance of the city and. temple-estate as the essential features of the organization of southem Mesopotamia. The author proposes, furthermore, a critical approach to the concepts of “private property” and “individual ownership” because in ancient Mesopotamia different property rights overlapped, whereas the king was the ultimate owner of all land. He concludes, then, that: “it is impossible to speak of private or individual ownership of land...” (p. 296). Itis worth mentioning, however, that according to Steinkeller this remark on the category “private property” does not apply to the ownership of orchards, houses and house-plots, for they could be “freely alienated.” The number of sale documents from the Ur III period (Steinkeller 1989) substantiates this fact. Other scholars, however, maintain that the absence or scarcity of sale documents is not conclusive evidence for the nonexistence of private property in arable land. Evidently, these authors interpret the written evidence, as well as the lack of it, differently. Diakonoff (1985), for instance, has analyzed a considerable number of field In this respect, it is important to highlight that F. R. Kraus (1970) and J. Cooper (1973) have ‘stressed the difficulties in identifying Sumerians and Akkadians as different ethnic groups on linguistic grounds. As Cooper has put it: “Kraus, in summarizing the textual evidence for ‘Sumerians and Akkadians, correctly insists that the difficulty in even finding designations for ‘Sumerians and Akkadians in Pre-Ur III texts, and the vague usage of these terms from Ur Ill on, make the existence of competing or antagonistic ethno-linguistic groups in early Mesopotamia highly unlikely” (pp. 245-246).37 lease contracts from the city of Ur during the Ur III period. Diakonoff concludes that the lessors of these fields were male members of extended families, who enjoyed full property rights. In order to explain the lack of land-sale contracts in the Ur III period, Diakonoff (1985: 49) has posed the hypothesis of an embargo on land sale. And Gelb (1969: 147) has interpreted this absence rather as due to some legal restrictions to prohibit the sale of arable land. More recently, other scholars have also adopted this, interpretation. Thus for instance, L. Bobrova and S. Koshumikov (1989: 54) state that land sale “was forbidden during the whole period of Ur III, as well as in the kingdom of Larsa.” For Postgate (1992: 183), however, the nonexistence of sale documents does not necessarily indicate the state’s absolute ownership of arable land, or any sort of legal prohibition concerning land sale. As altemative explanations, he maintains that “selling one’s cereal fields was only a last resort,” and that there may have also existed traditional restraints on these transactions due to family structure. At present, to judge from the comments scattered in different works, interpretations that consider the existence of landed property in southern Mesopotamia in spite of the scarcity of documents seem to have a wide acceptance. Unfortunately, none of these Assyriologists has recently formulated an all-encompassing explanation such as the one that Renger proposed. Innumerable theoretical subtleties underlie these opposite interpretations, and the understanding of Mesopotamian economy and society depends on the way the problem of cultivable land ownership is approached. The remarks on Mesopotamian “private property” as something different from the norm established in the Roman Law have been mentioned often. However, this is not an entirely satisfactory explanation. As already mentioned, there are documents that record real estate transactions in which a property (eg., an orchard, a garden, a house-plot, or even a field in northern Mesopotamia) is exchanged for a specific amount of silver. These documents clearly show that private land was sold (Charpin 19866), and speculations about the transferring of only certain rights over the object seem to complicate the issue unnecessarily.38 The problem of land ownership is inevitably related to the discussion about the existence or nonexistence of market mechanisms during the Old Babylonian period. Renger (1984) has thoroughly reviewed the different positions as regards trade and market in Mesopotamia. According to him, in Assyriological studies the discussion about markets has been significantly influenced by Oppenheim’s and Polanyi’s works. Renger’s article is in fact mainly devoted to the demonstration that, despite the many criticisms --based on superficial semantic discussions~, Polanyi’s premises are wholly valid for ancient Mesopotamia. Renger places the debate in the context of “traditionalists” versus “modernists,” ie., in terms of those who consider the oikos as the fundamental unit of production and consumption; and those who think that concepts of modem economics can be applied to the study of ancient societies.®” Renger (e.g., 1979, 1984, and 1990) thinks that reciprocity and redistribution were more important than any form of local exchange, which mainly assumes the form of barter in the case of movable g00ds. Thus the Old Babylonian period is characterized by the oikos economy, where “the palace controlled most or all the arable land,” and Renger (1990: 22) further adds that “individual private property of arable land (fields) did not exist to a measurable degree.” As for the “modernist” theories, Hudson’s (1996) introduction to a volume on privatization in the ancient Near East provides a good sample of some of the “modemist” topics and premises; at some points it even makes one sympathize with some of the “primitivist” overstatements. That is the case, for instance, when Hudson regards the Mesopotamian temple as “civilization’s first business corporation,” and as a public © The writings of Polanyi have also given rise to the so-called “formalist-substantivist” debate ‘among economic anthropologists. For the “formalist,” ancient and non-Western societies can be studied by means of the principles of classical economic models; on the contrary the “substantivists” consider the absence of markets and money as an impediment for such an approach.39 enterpreneurial institution that gave way to the privatization of enterpreneurial activity in the third millennium. The solution to the theoretical dilemmas mentioned above resides, perhaps, ina pragmatic approach to Old Babylonian economic and social history. In such a direction, without leaving aside theoretical tools, one might pose and answer specific questions as for instance how the value of a property was determined. The study of real estate prices, unfortunately, has not yet cast any light on this problem. Jakobson (1971) attempted to determine the customary price for land. In order to do that he set some parameters for his corpus: he included those plots that were referred to as field, were bordered by a canal, and were paid in silver. However, the limited number of documents under consideration did not allow the author to draw any decisive conclusion. Farber (1978) also addressed the issue of land price in his study of price and wages for northern Babylonia. Farber’s sale contract corpus is more inclusive than Jakobson’s, for it comprises some 74 documents from Sippar, Dilbat, and Ki8. Both Jakobson and Farber stress the difficulties in establishing a mean value determination for fields due to the enormous variation in price. Farber concludes that there was a gradual decline in the price of land in Sippar, and perhaps in other northern cities from Hammurabi onwards, possibly because of a drop in land productivity. Since the publication of this article, however, a considerable amount of new documents has been published, which might or might not change Farber’s “ Jakobson’s criterion for assembling the corpus was highly selective; as a result only eleven documents dating to the First Dynasty of Babylon fit into the category. From these contracts, seven belong to the period from Siimd-la’el to Samsu-iluna (one contract per king) and the rest belong to the reigns of kings outside of Babylon but contemporary to the first dynasty. Jakobson concludes, not surprisingly, that “one shekel of silver may represent the price of a plot of any dimension, from 10 sar of field and up to 200 sar of field; that is, the rate of fluctuation is 2000 per cent!” (p. 36). ® According to Farber, the variation in price can go from one-sixth shekel up to forty shequels per iku of field, p. 27. The differences in the land price per iku must have been related, among ‘other things, to the location and productivity of the field, but the documents do not mention this issue.conclusions. As for urban dwellings, the study of prices is problematic because ~as in the case of fields- the variation of prices is enormous. Koshurnikov (1996) has dealt with the price of houses in Dilbat taking into account the description of the property.” Koshumikov has also pointed out the difficulty of relating variables such as the shape (good or bad) and location of the house with its price. He further explains exceptional circumstances that may have influenced the property value, as for example lower prices because of the removal of wooden parts, or higher because of special interests in buying the house (e-g., to enlarge the neighbor's house). Similarly, Van De Mieroop (1999a) has studied the price of houses in Sippar, Nippur, and Ur in an attempt to identify price- setting mechanisms. Following Stone (1977), Van De Mieroop considers that economic and political conditions -e.g., the economic upheaval in the south after 1739—may have also influenced the prices of real estate. He also thinks that the sales were usually to relatives or neighbors but not to people who had just moved into a neighborhood.” Van De Mieroop concludes that in ancient Babylonia there was not “any real estate market in the modem sense of the word” (p. 274), because the prices seem to have depended on particular conditions, rather than on market mechanisms. The existence of markets does not necessarily imply the existence of those price- fixing mechanisms known in capitalist and contemporary societies. What characterizes capitalism are specific relations of production, not just the market as a price-fixing mechanism. The presence in antiquity of some elements that may resemble modem ” The corpus consists of 23 sale contracts from Siimi-la’el to Samsu-iluna. The sales include: nine é-di-a (Ha to Si), one 6-gi-(ni) (Sm), thirteen é-bur-bal (SI to Sm), and one é-kislah (Sm). The variation in price, according to Koshurnikov, is: 1 sar é-dil-a 10 to 30 shekels of silver; 1 sar bur-bal 2 to 4 shckels, and | sar é-kislab about | shekel. ” Interestingly, in her analysis of sellers and buyers of urban real estate in southern Mesopotamia, Kozyreva (1999: 356) arrives at the opposite conclusion: “It seems logical to conclude that a considerable proportion of urban real estate buyers were the people who had moved into the cities rather recently, i.e, newcomers or their descendants.” And she further adds that because of this mobility, the sale of urban plots was not only an economic but also a social phenomenon.4. institutions does not make ancient societies modern, nor do those elements make ancient societies more “primitive” than what they are. Renger (1984), for instance, has denied the existence of domestic trade. He argues that even though some kind of barter and some sales may have existed, these cases should be considered as marginal due to the fact that in traditional and non-institutionalized economies the social embeddedness of the economy determines economic activities and behaviors. Some studies, however, challenge the theory of the marketless economy. Stol (1982) analyzed a group of documents from Hammurabi 32 to Samsu-iluna 7 from Larsa. The texts are related to the collection of dates and other commodities of the “province” of Emutbalum (area that included Larsa, Ur, Lagaé, Bad-Tibira, and Kutalla). The goods mentioned in the documents are dates, garlic, fish, barley, and wool. In the case of dates and fish, the goods were collected from state officials who entrusted them to Sép-Sin, the Overseer of Five, of the karum of Larsa. The palace was not interested at all in the origin of the staples, it just valued them in silver and expected Sép-Sin to pay the amount of silver stipulated at a point in time set by the palace (Charpin 1982). According to Stol’s conclusions, the members of the karum of Larsa sold the merchandise to private individuals. Thus, this analysis shows that the existence of a market for daily needs (categorically denied by Renger) took place in southern Mesopotamia. This overview of the Old Babylonian period provides a context to our study, but it is also intended to highlight some of the historical problems that I consider relevant in order to understand the ways in which Old Babylonian history has been written. The survey shows that most if not all of the discussions focus on a rather narrow range of topics including political history as well as the nature and economic power of the state. Today, some one hundred and fifty years after the decipherment of cuneiform writing, cour knowledge of Mesopotamian history has improved enormously. However, many scholars from different theoretical backgrounds still concentrate on the same historical problems. Although documents and archaeological data impose certain limitations on the42 study of ancient history, it is possible to subject our sources to new questions. My study of local powers undertakes this challenge, shifting the emphasis from the state to other, smaller, institutions of power and individual authorities. Such an approach requires both research on the jurisdiction and activities of local powers beyond their judicial role, and a re-evaluation of generally accepted premises. VI. Local Power: History of Research This section provides only a general summary of previous research on local powers, for I will refer to specific aspects when discussing each institution in the successive chapters. Although it is common to find references of various structures of local authority in Assyriological literature, there has been no systematic investigation on local powers during the Old Babylonian period. Two decades ago, A. Finet (1982) edited Les pouvoirs locaux en Mésopotamie et dans les régions adjacentes, a book that originating from a colloquium presented at the Institut des Hautes Etudes de Belgique. In spite of the suggestive title, however, the articles gathered in the volume deal with very restricted and disparate topics. Therefore, an integrated picture of Mesopotamian local authorities does not emerge. Only two articles in the volume refer to the Old Babylonian period. One of them analyzes the kdrum, “the port authority” (Kraus 1982), while the other studies local powers in the kingdom of Mari (Kupper 1982). Generally, most references to local institutions appear only tangentially in analyses not directly concerned with local authorities. Diakonoff (1969), for instance, explored the role of community institutions in his broader study of early Mesopotamian political systems. According to him, corporate bodies such as “the council of elders” (Sbizrum), “the popular assemblages of the city” (Glum, karum, pubrum), and “the city-ward” (babtum) were the survivors of earlier organs of community self-government. Diakonoff maintained that although these institutions were still important in the times of king Hammurabi, by then they hada become merely organs of the local administration. This new explanation challenged the temple-state model as originally formulated for the third millennium (see, e.g., Schneider 1920, Deimel 1931, and Falkenstein 1954). Undoubtedly, Diakonoff's remarkable contribution was the identification of these authorities with community organs of self- government that coexisted with the state. However, since local powers were not Diakonoff’s main concern, he did not analyze them thoroughly. Other scholars have considered the role of corporate groups and community representatives when dealing with the Old Babylonian judicial system (¢.g., Cug 1910, Lautner 1922, Yoffee 19886, Dombradi 1996, Fortner 1996). Thus, while the participation of these authorities in the settlement of legal disputes is well known, their involvement in the city administration has been mentioned only briefly (see, e.g., Oppenheim 1967 and 1969, Yokoyama 1994, Van De Mieroop 1997, Keith 1999). Although outdated, Walther’s Das altbabylonische Gerichtswesen is still a valuable source, since the author included every attestation of those institutions and officials known to him in 1917. The studies by Dombradi and Foriner are important contributions to Walther’s approach, especially because the authors produce an updated corpus of primary sources, while providing new viewpoints. Dombradi and Fortner, however, did not quote documents in which these authorities appear engaged in activities other than court disputes. The effect of these legal studies has not been to foreclose fuller studies of local authorities (see Yoffee 1999). R. Harris (1975) has also listed various representatives of local powers under specific subheadings in her book dealing with Sippar. Nevertheless, some of Harris’s conclusions need revision in the light of the voluminous amount of texts from that city that has been published recently (e.g., Dekiere 1994, 1994a, 1995, 1995a, 1996, and 1997). One of the most extensive analyses of the rabianum appears in Stol’s Studies in Old Babylonian History (1976), which includes two entire sections (VI and VID) dealing with this office. The author undertook a philological interpretation of the term rabidnum --translated alternately as “chief,” “burgomaster,” and “sheikh.” According to Stol, the rabidimum-“burgomaster” headed a permanent settlement, while the rabiamum-“sheikh” was the leader of a nomadic group. Thus, although the office had a nomadic origin, it evolved and became an urban authority that co-existed with its tribal forerunner. Stol also studied the characteristics of the office (e.g., its length, the possibility that there was more than one rabidimum in a city at a time, etc.), and the rabidnum's role in harvest-labor contracts, Stol’s analysis is a valuable contribution towards the study of this official. However, Stol does not solve several problems, as he himself pointed out. For instance, when the author explained how the rabianum acceded to the office, he affirmed that the king appointed Tutub-magir in Sadduppim. This example, nevertheless, is arguable on textual grounds. Stol’s proposal implies the acceptance of the claim that the rabianum was, at least in some cases, a royal official. A similar assumption might be present in Roth's translation of Hammurabi’s laws, where she rendered rabiinum as “governor” (Roth 1997: 85). The reasons why she opted for such a rendering are not explained and, interestingly enough, in CAD R: 17 (of which Roth is coeditor) that meaning is not provided. These interpretations seem to favor the rabidmum's dependence upon the state. Nevertheless, there is no consistent evidence to support this view (see, ¢.g., Yoffee 1988, Fortner, 1996: 270). Yoffee (1977) has further pursued the role of the rabidimum as a community leader attested in documents pertaining to the hiring of harvesters, but he focused mostly on the economic role of the crown. As for the elders (sibirum), Klengel (1960) analyzed this institution some forty years ago, and, more recently, he supplemented his conclusions with examples from Ebla (Klenge! 1989). His study of the elders during the Old Babylonian period is mainly a revision of the topic in the light of texts from the royal archives of Mari. For Klengel, the Aibiitum were not only “the elders of city,” but also blood-related officials of tribal groups. He further stated that Mari evidence makes it possible to reconstruct the historical development of the institution of “the elders.” Accordingly, Klengel traced the Sumerian45 and Akkadian words for “elders” attested in the Ur III and Old Akkadian period. He also implied that the Sibi Glim had their ori back to the time when the West Semitic inhabitants of Mesopotamia penetrated the land between the Euphrates and the Tigris. Since the evidence for this migration is not directly in a tribal form of organization, which went found in written documents, Klengel resorted to analogies, as for example, ethnographic studies of the Bedouins, and literary texts as Gilgame3 and Akka (a classic for this subject matter). The author’s identification of elders who advise the king/sheikh in nomadic groups is a valid one. However, this fact does not necessarily mean that “the elders of the city” are the result of a process of nomadic settlement, or that modem “nomads” are appropriate analogies for “nomads” of four thousand years ago. ‘Scholars today no longer adhere to the idea that nomadic groups are primitive peoples in an early stage of evolution towards a settled life. Rather, nomadism itself is a specialized adaptation that evolved in conjunction with urbanism. One may similarly critique Stol’s interpretation suggesting that the rabianum was originally a tribal sheikh, and that then, when the tribes had fully settled in cities, the rabianum tumed into a “burgomaster.” Of course, Amorite dynasties became the hallmarks of the Old Babylonian period. Nevertheless, this fact does not allow us to conclude that all Amorites were nomads, or that their characteristic nomadic institutions came to pervade Mesopotamian social, economic, and political organization. This argument seems to be present, for instance, in Renger’s (1979: 252) depiction of Hammurabi as a “great sheikh, as the king called himself in his inscriptions.” Naturally, by the time Hammurabi acceded to the throne, the First Dynasty of Babylon had already been ruling northern Mesopotamia for almost a century. Moreover, one may very well be suspicious about arguments for a theory of government based on terms found in royal inscriptions. Regarding the Old Babylonian assembly (pubrum) and “the city” (Glum), there is no study specifically dealing with these institutions. Some references to these terms appear in Evans’ (1958) study on “Ancient Mesopotamian Assemblies.” Although this46 article was conceived as a reaction to Jacobsen’s (1943) analysis of “Primitive Democracy” in ancient Mesopotamia, Evans included only a few documents. He employed examples from Uruk and kdrum Kane§, and he occasionally referred to Old Babylonian data and to comparisons with Roman and Greek assemblies. Evans was mainly interested in the constituency of the assemblies and its bodies (e.g., in “Gilgame3 and Akka,” the elders and the gurus). Therefore, he discussed at length the social rank and age-groups of assembly members based on speculative grounds —as the author himself acknowledges. The conclusions of this approach are, on the one hand, that the assemblies of Uruk in the time of Gilgames consisted of two bodies: the elders ~ representatives of powerful families and not necessarily biologically old — and the freemen of the city, regardless of their age. On the other, itis suggested that the assemblies at Kane, in the early second millennium, show a great decline in power, which had been transferred from the assembly to the “great” men. However, it is important to mention that, in spite of his critical attempt, Evans never questioned Jacobsen’s idea that Mesopotamian “autocratic kingship” was the result of an ‘evolutionary process originating in “primitive democracy,” and, in fact, Evans’ second conclusion seems to substantiate this view. As can be seen from this history of research, there are two kinds of approaches to local powers such as the rabidnum, the elders, the city, and the assembly. On the one hand, works concemed with legal procedures and the administration of justice include these authorities together with other officials and collegiate bodies as part of the Old Babylonian judicial system. Since the main concem of these studies revolves around legal manters, the participation of local institutions in other activities is usually overlooked. On the other hand, a number of articles deal with the rabianum, the elders, and the assembly separately, but there has been no attempt at interconnecting their functions or at articulating the role of local authorities with state officials and the rest of society. These individual articles are important contributions to our understanding of the47 OB period, but the most recent of them dates from some twenty years ago. The reexamination of local authorities in the light of new documents, together with an approach that takes into account their vertical and horizontal connections, will allow us to explore mechanisms of power beyond the royal sphere. In the next chapter, I will analyze the role, activities, and jurisdiction of the rabianum, “the chief of the city.”CHAPTER IL THE RABIANUM 1 General Remarks ‘The study of ancient institutions poses several challenges to the historian. Piecing together the fragments of what was recorded in antiquity and of what has survived into modem times implies the use of previous assumptions to analyze the evidence that has come down to us. The millennia that span from the Old Babylonian period to “our” present continually bring the historian to the brink of anachronism; bridging that gap is a rather difficult and not necessarily promising enterprise. When dealing with written sources, the transference of specific semantic connotations further complicates the understanding of ancient societies. In the seemingly simple process of translation, the philologist manipulates words and institutions alike, because the choice of particular terms or categories drawn from modem societies bears the burden of historical connotations, and it also conveys particular visions and perceptions of the world. Imposing modern meanings, albeit necessary, inevitably compromises the ancient Mesopotamian’s conceptual universe.' Thus, analyses of ancient Near Eastern institutions have been quite influenced by comparisons that are, in the best cases, anachronistic (Yoffee 1978: 28). Linguistic rigor, as valuable as it is, plays a role in the maze of misconceptions about institutional issues. The more one tries to find a technical word for ' Mounin summarizes such a situation, with a more recent example, in the following words: “Si chinois éprouve des grandes difficultés & traduire Mozarella ou bien Ave Maria gratia plena, (...) "est parce que sa culture matérielle ne posséde pas ce produit laitier spécifique, ni sa culture spirituelle un mot pour désigner le concept dun appui donné par Dieux aux hommes dans la recherche de leur salut.” Quoted in R. Larose (1985: 65). 4849 a translation, the more one risks being far removed from the connotation the word must have had in the society in which it was used. Considerations like this may seem excessive; however, being aware of the difficulties inherent in the translation of resurrected languages prevents us from enacting the well-known Italian pun traduttore- traditore. ‘These remarks are particularly useful in the case of the noun rabidnum, a word attested only in the Old Babylonian period (see AHw R: 934ff., CAD R: 17ff.), and which was, moreover, only written syllabically. M. Stol (1976: 73ff.) has shown that there were three different writings for the word rabianum, namely, ra-bi-a-mu(-um), ra-Bl-nu(-um), and ra-ba-nu(-um) in OB Elam. Stol further suggests that ra-BI-nu(-um) ~or ra-bé-nu(- um)—could have been a dialectal form from Mari and the Diyala region; however, the “plene” writing ra-bi-a-nu(-um) is also attested in texts from that area.’ At the same time, the fact that the writing ra-bi-nu(-um) appears in documents from southern Mesopotamia ‘well, lets us suspect that ra-bi-nu(-um) could be either a by-form or a misspelling.* A fourth variant should be added to the three writings that Stol has pointed out, that is, the use of the b/ (i.e., the NE sign), instead of the bi graph; judging from the extant examples 2 Stol (1976: 82-3) has argued that the logogram git.nita could have been the equivalent of the title rabianum in the Diyala region. I will address this issue under the subheading “the rabiaraum as an urban authority,” later on in this chapter. > Following GAG § 16k, Stol (1976: 74) explains that “Only in texts from Mari and the Diyala region the reading ra-bé-mu-um could be certain, because the contraction i + 4~ é is often attested in thote texts.” “ In the case of Samas-ili, the rabiderum of Halhalla, the title is written ra-bi-mu-um in CT 47 68a: 16 (Si LVL) and MHET IVS n° 618: 10 (undated); but itis also written ra-bi-a-mu-um in CT 47 19+ a: 20 (Sm, oath). The title of Ii-ippalsam, from Kutalla, is always attested in “plene” ‘writing except in TS 81: 10 (Si 8), where we have ra-bi-mu; similarly, Dadi-itmé-el’s title is written ra-bi-nu-um in YOS 14 106: 19 but ra-bi-a-nu-um in UCP 10/3 6: 16 (case). Worth noticing is VAS 13 20 + 20a (Ha 30/K/2, Sippar), in line 19 the first witness is Ibni-Amurrum, ra- ‘bi-a-mu, but the document also bears the notation kisib ra-bi-nu.50 the bi-sign seems to have been mostly used during the early OB period.’ Morphologically, the substantive rabianum is the result of adding the nominal affix - Gn(um) to the nominal form rab, or rabiu, “great,” “chief,” “important,” “powerful,” etc. (see CAD R 26ff.). The morpheme an(um), which could also function as a plural ending, works in this case as a particularizing suffix (GAG § S6r and § 61); thus the basic meaning of rabidnum is, following W. von Soden (GAG: 85), a “bestimmter Grosser (...)" Le., a “particular or specific great man.” The etymology of the word, together with those pieces of information gathered from cuneiform texts, led philologists to propose different renderings, most of them inspired by European urban officials. I shall argue, later on in this chapter, that rabianum conveys the idea of primus inter pares, or “first among equals.” Assyriologists initially encountered the term in economic and legal documents and noticed the presence of the rabidnum as the first witness to some of these transactions (Strassmaier 1882: 537). Taking this fact into account, B. Meissner (1893: 129) translated rabidnum as “Prsident” or, more specifically, “president of the court,” as L. King (1900: 39) has rendered it. The discovery of the “Laws of Hammurabi,” in the course of December 1901 and January 1902, impinged upon the interpretation of the rabianum’s role.’ E. Cug (1910: 84-5) discusses the rabidnum in his article dealing with * Thus for instance in D. Chapin (198Sa: 191) and D. Parayre (1985: 233) (‘Am-buena-a-bi ?gumu J-Sa-nu-um *ra-bi-a-nu-um), AS 22: 119 pl. 27 (‘E-nir-s{ar-ru-um] *ra-bi-an MAR.TU *§a Di-ni-ifk-tim)...), RIM IV: 700 ('A-ri-im-li-im ? dumnu I-ba-a-a *ra-bi-an MAR.TU...), RIMIV: 702 (‘At iab bu um? dumu A-{x x x x] ’ra-bi-an x x ‘fa Baititir", RIM IV: 112 [= Syria 45: 243] ('Za-ba-a"ra-bi-an "MAR-TU...), RIMIV: 121 [=UET 8 65] 7 APbi-sa-re-e (...)"ra-bi- @-mu-um MAR.TU me-en), RIM IV: 152 [=MDOG 15:13) (/-tir-"Utu *ra-bi-an *Ra-ba-bi-ma ...), and BIN 9 199 (*ki Birs-bi-ru-ma °ra-bi-a-nu-um-ma....) from the time of ISbi-Erra. * In CH, the rabidmum is mentioned only twice (§§23 and 24). In both paragraphs, the rabiamum and the city are made responsible for any robbery committed within their jurisdiction. Interestingly enough, in §23 one of the variants has unken, “assembly,” instead of uru, “city.” J. J. Finkelstein (1967: 45) —the editor of this tablet written by Ina--ulma8-zéru, a “junior scribe” (@ub.sar-tur)— dates the copy to the time of Ammi-ditana or Ammi-saduqa. Following A. Walther (1917: 50, 64), Finkelstein explains the variant unken (uru x bar) vs alum (ura) because “...uru is51 judicial administration during the First Dynasty of Babylon. Based on CH §§23-24, Cuq states that the rabidnum was “le magistrat chargé de maintenir l'ordre dans la ville, celui que nous appelons aujourd'hui le maire.”” Cuq mentions that, along with his duty as an authority in charge of local justice, the rabidimum was also the president of an assembly which included the notables and the elders of the city. Early in the twentieth century, in his Das altbabylonische Gerichtswesen, A. Walther (1917) undertook the first thorough study of those Old Babylonian officials and institutions engaged in the administration of justice. As part of this project, he compiled all the available rabianum sources in order to analyze the office in view of legal documents and he included, in addition, economic texts as well as other inscriptions. Even though Walther refers to the translations proposed by some of his colleagues, he refrains from providing any specific term to fit the rabianum into a modem Wester category. Rather, he resorts to the noun “Ortsvorsteher” and tries to trace the role of the rabidnum as it is mentioned in the cuneiform sources. After some general remarks, Walther proceeds with a geographical approach; he considers first southern and, second, northem cities. In the south, his evidence is limited to a small number of documents mostly from Larsa and Kutalla. References are to the rabiamum of Mediim (L1H 19), the rabianum Afi-tillati (LIH 1 6), and the rabiénums Amurrum-malik (Holma ZATH n° 1) used to denote ‘the city’ as a judicial body, equally with unken ‘assembly’..."(p. 47). Due to the similarity between the two signs, Finkelstein also considers the possibility of the variant being a seribal mistake. 7 Other Assyriologists generally adopted the translation of rabidmum as “mayor” or “burgomaster,” as is the case in Driver and Miles (1952/5: 21), ABfw (“der GroBec,” “Bargermeister”), and CAD (“mayor,” “headman”); however, different renderings have been also offered. Thus, for instance, M. Schorr ({1913] 1971: 364) translates rabiamum as “Prifekt,” as does A. Finet (1973: 51, “préfet”). Th. Pinches (1915: 130) has “presiding scribe” for rabidmum; whereas M. Roth (1997: 85) has “governor.” And M. Stol (1976: 73) further suggests “tribal sheikh” as one of its meanings, followed by Oppenheim who translates “chief magistrate of a ‘town or tribe,” in the index to YOS 12 (p. 67).52 and Ubbalum (VAS 13 100) from Larsa, and those from the city of Kutalla.* As for the north, Walther refers to the rabidnums Imgur-Sin (VAS 7 149, 7 and 14), Abum-tabum (VAS 7 48, 49 and 60) and Ibni-Marduk (VAS 7 100) from Dilbat. Finally, he studies some twenty documents mentioning the rabianums of Sippar and vicinity -mainly the city of Halballa. As regards his range of activities, Walther concludes that the rabianum was, in several cases, the foremost judge of the city and the ‘Prisident” or “Oberprisident” of the court. The rabianum was, moreover, the head of the city elders, whose interaction becomes apparent from some of the documents in which they are mentioned together. Then, it is the rabianum’s direct involvement with local affairs that makes of him a valuable witness to many contracts because, for Walther, the rabiiinum is, always an urban official.? Six decades had passed since the publication of Das altbabylonische Gerichiswesen when M. Stol (1976: 73E) revisited the rabidinum office. According to him, rabianum was not only the title for a city authority (“burgomaster”) but it was also used to designate a tribal chief (““sheikh”).'° To substantiate his interpretation, Stol provides various instances in which the term rabidrwm appears in the bound form with nouns other than city names. These examples include rabian babrisu (Langdon, Kis 1924: 40), rabian narim (LIH 1 66), rabian Rababi (MDOG 15: 13), rabian Amnan-Sadlas (CT * Walther specifies that the rabiamum Abi-limur was not from Kutalla — as originally thought— bbut from ASaSir; thus he is left with only three rabiamums of Kutalla, namely, Qisti-Erra, [i- ippalsam, and Sin-imguranni. However, Walther (1917: 115) already suspected that Sin- imguranni might have been the rabidrum of another town. More recently, Charpin (1980: 144-5) has argued that Sin-imguranni was not rabiamum of Kutalla, but from some other place, possibly ‘ASduba. As regards the rabiarum Qisti-Erra, Walther notices ~as did B. Meissner (1893: 122) before him- that Qisti-Erra is also recorded bearing the title rabi sikkatim. He states: “Der rabidmu ist immer der rabidmu einer bestimmten Stadt, mag der Name der Stadt hinzugesetzt sein oder nicht” (p. 107). © In Stol’s (1976: 73) terms: “In the earliest text where the word occurs (BIN9 199, time of ISbi- Erra of Isin), it appears to be the title of tribal chiefs given by the local population and the authorities with whom they lived in contact.”53 48 83), and rabian Amurrim (e.g., RIM IV: 810, AS 22 n° 3). As a result, Stol concludes that the translation of the term will depend on the context; “burgomaster” would apply to the rabidnum who is in charge of a permanent settlement, whereas “sheikh” would characterize the leader of a tribal group (Stol 1976: 73). IL. Rabidnum as a Royal Title G. Buccellati (1966: 309) has drawn attention to BIN 9 199, dated to the 32" year of Ibi- Erra, king of the first dynasty of Isin, which is, at present, the earliest document recording the title rabidmum. The text deals with leather products from the so-called craft archive during the early Isin period, and it comes, presumably, from a workshop located in the city of Isin (Van De Mieroop 1987: 8). The reverse of this tablet reads, 7. 2"4ummu mas gat 7. 2 goat skin waterbags 8. ki Birsbinruma 8. from Birbirri, 9. 9. the rabiamum, 10. i Pdi 10. and Iddin-Amurrum. 11. Su-*Nin-mug maskin 11. Su-Ninmug, the maikim-officer 12. $8 6-gal 12. in the palace. 13-14. date 13-14, Bbi-Erra 32/024 Asis the case with other tablets from this archive, the interpretation of this document is problematic because there is no verb (Van De Mieroop 1987: 9). It is difficult, therefore, to ascertain whether the goods mentioned are coming into or going out of the workshop; in other words, whether the text records a receipt or a disbursement. The presence of two officials (a gir PN ré-gab and a maikim) seems to suggest that the transaction is a “disbursement of finished products,” step five, according to Van De Mieroop’s typology (1987: 16).'' An I8bi’erra-en-en, the ré-gab (“mounted messenger”), was the conveyor of ™' Unfortunately, Van De Mieroop does not include BIN'9 199 in his “typology of the Isin texts.”54 the products listed on the obverse, among them “15 shekels of glue, % white sheepskin, and a reed mattress covered with red sheepskin.” Even though there is no agreement about the role of the “conveyor” (git), Van De Mieroop (1987: 93) has shown that in the Isin craft archive, the gir usually represents the receiving institution. On the obverse, there is another official, Su-Ninmug, the maékim, whose role is also not completely understood.'? Van De Microop points out that the makim was often present “when goods are issued to foreigners, mostly Amorites”; and that he was, furthermore, a supervisor of issues to the palace (p. 98). Van De Mieroop quotes BIN 9 199 as an example of the last case, Despite the fact that these problems may pose certain limits to understanding the transaction recorded in our text, it becomes apparent from the document itself that there is no direct evidence to conclude that the rabiamum Birbirri was a tribal sheikh, as Stol (1976: 85) has interpreted it.'? The “tribal” origin of the office, therefore, cannot be asserted on the basis of BIN'9 199, wherein the rabianum is, most likely, an urban leader. Similarly, the fact that Amorites are often attested in the Isin texts does not necessarily mean that they were all “nomads”; many of the Isin craft archive documents are dated to king [8bi-Erra, who was himself an Amorite. The expression rabidn amurrim, “chieftain of the Amorites,” was a title used by certain Mesopotamian kings. That is the case, for instance, with some inscriptions of Zabaya (RIM IV: 112, Syria 45: 243) and Abi-saré (UET 8 65) of Larsa; Sin-gamil of Diniktum (Sumer 2: 20, Adams 1965: 165); and Arim-Lim of Mé-turan (R/M IV: 700, ” B. R. Foster (Mesopotamia 9: 79) suggests that in the Sargonic period, the magkim was on” S. Kang (1972: 255) thnks tht in tas Som Dechem makin could ” because it “denotes the fact that specific authority had been given to an official to expend government propery.” ' Stol comments: “The word means here probably ‘sheikh,’ Buccellati, p. 309.” However, Buccellati (1966: 340) translates the rabiarum of BIN 9 199 as “mayor (?).” Whereas on page 309 he states: “...similarly, there are more cases in which one bas reason to assume the presence of Amorite sheikhs in our text, and we also find for the first time the title rabiarmum attested, possibly at least, in connection with the Amorites.” [The emphasis is mine].355 see Michalowski 1983:240-1).'* The title also appears, however, in still other texts (O/P 43: 145 = AS 22: 26 Abda-el rabidn amurrim, AS 22: 119 pl. 27 Itdr-Sarrum rabian amurrim, RIM IV 810{ ] rabidin amurrim, RIM IV 702 rabian x x Sa Batir, AS 22 n° 3 rabian amurrim, and YOS 14207 seal 93 Abi-saré rabidin amurrim). Stol quoted three of these inscriptions (OIP 43: 145, RIMTV 810 and AS 22 n° 3) as examples of rabian amurrim, apparently unrelated to royal bearers. The publication of new evidence, nonetheless, seems to suggest that rabidin amurrim was always used as a royal title. A review of the extant material is relevant to support this statement. The rabian amurrim lvir-Sarrum is mentioned in a seal impression on a tablet envelope from the Diyala region. The fact that this tablet was found in association with seals from servants of Ipiq-Adad I of ESnunna indicates that Itir-Sarrum of Diniktum reigned about a century before king Sin-gamil of Diniktum (AS 22: 119 pl. 27; RIMIV: 683), 1. (Dhnir-sfar(2)-ra¢?)-urm(?)] 1. Indr-Sarrum, 2. ra-bi-an MAIR.TU} 2. the rabidin amurrim 3. $a Di-nivifk-tim")] 3. of Diniktum, 4. (dumu) felfie{ 4. sonofii{ This seal legend exactly parallels an inscription of Sin-gdmil. The similar structure of both texts implies, according to Whiting (1987: 119), that the title rabian amurrim had a The inscription of Arim-Lim of Mé-Turan was found out of context, near Neo-Assyrian buildings at the site of Tell Haddad, in the Hamrim basin, but it originates in the early Old Babylonian period. The inscription was written on a stone foundation tablet that was later re-used. as a door socket (see F. N. Al-Rawi 1994: 35). Frayne (1990: 700) suggests that Arim-Lim could be the same person as larim-Lim, who is mentioned in the year date of a treaty between Sadia and Nérebtum. If that is the case, then, Arim-Lim was contemporary with king Simé-la’el of Babylon. This year name reads, mu ds-sa la-ri-im-L[i-iJim ba-ugs “The year after Yarim-Lim died” (see Greengus 1979: 75, line 55).56 Jong tradition in Diniktum.'* Sin-gamil’s inscription was written on a baked well- or cistern-brick (Adams 1965: 165). This led to the conclusion that the brick is “a link with the life of nomads (“Amorites”) and offers a context in which Sin-gamil’s nomadic title is ‘meaningful: did he build cisterns for herdsmen?” (Stol 1976: 88). Unfortunately, non- professional diggers produced both of Sin-gamil’s extant bricks. One of them was given to S. Smith in 1931 (Sumer 2: 20), the other was brought to the [raq Museum in 1960 together with six Ur III/Larsa cylinder seals (Adams 1965: 165). Based on his archaeological surveys in the Diyala region, R. Mc. C. Adams considers that the site of ancient Diniktum represents a zone of continuous settlement. The fact that Sin-gamil’s inscription was written on a well-brick does not guarantee, therefore, that the cistern was exclusively used by herdsmen nor does it suggests that Sin-gimil was himself a nomad. Even though these two bricks are, at present, the only inscriptions of Sin-gamil, he is also mentioned as lugal Di-ni-ik-tim*, “king of Diniktum,” in a letter from the archives of Mari (Dossin 1956).'® King Yarim-Lim of Aleppo sent this letter to Ya3ab- Yadad, king of Dér, as a complaint about the way YaSub-Yadad behaved towards the king of Aleppo (and the god Addu), who had saved Dér from destruction; he further threatens YaSub-Yadad with a siege of his city. Charpin and Durand (1985: 308ff.) have already pointed out the historical importance of this document in which Yarim-Lim claims to have also protected Babylon and Diniktum. It is precisely in this context that Sin-gamil is mentioned, 19. (w}u-di “EN.2U-ga-mil lugal Di-ni-ik-tim“ Certainly, Sin-gamil, the king of ‘5 Sin-gamil’s brick reads: 1. “EN.2U-ga-mi-il, /2. ra-bi-an MAR.TU /3. 5a Di-ni-ik-tum™ /4. dumu “EN ZU-fe-me (Sumer 2: 20, Adams 1965: 165). 'S Dossin (1956: 64) explains that the reason why a letter addressed to the king of Dér was found in the royal archives of Mari is because Mari officials must have intercepted it. For Charpin and Durand (1985: 308), however, the letter was one of the copies that the king of Aleppo sent to his allies.s7 20.ki-ma ka-ta-ma zé-re-tim Diniktum, *“"like you, answer me all 21. it pa-ar-ka-tim i-ta-na-ap-pa-la-an-ni the time with hostilities and obstacles. 22. 5 me-tim *ma-tur™* i-na ka-ar 2-31 moored 500 boats in the quay of 23. Di-ni-iketim® ar-ku-tis-ma ‘Diniktum, “and for 12 years I have 24, mu.12.kam m{a)-a-sii it fa-tu tetd-ab-bi” been helping him and his country. oe Charpin and Durand (1985: 310) maintain that the initial support of Diniktum must have taken place towards the end of Samsi-Addu’s reign, i.e., ca. 1776, which also explains the presence of such a large fleet from Aleppo in the quay of Diniktum. The letter, then, must have been written around the year Zimri-Lim 9° (ca. Ha 12/13), the most favorable time for Yarim-Lim’s threat, according to Charpin and Durand."* This intervention of the king of Aleppo in Mesopotamian political affairs took place before the consolidation of Hammurabi’s kingdom; and it is a clear example of the degree of fragmentation, and of the changing political alliances in Mesopotamia. The fact that the king of Aleppo calls Sin-gamil lugal, “king,” shows the royal status of the title rabian amurrim, which is, of course, unrelated to the degree of effective power these kings held. A seal impression from ESnunna (OJP 43: 145 Seal Legend n°10,"” collated by R. Whiting 1987: 26, RIM IV: 485) mentions a certain Abda-el, possibly with the title rabidn amurrim. King Nii-abum gave this seal as a gift to USaSum, his son-in-law; the presentation of seals by rulers to high officials and relatives is attested from southern "7 Durand (1997: 395) suggests the reading i-d-ab-bi (fiabum) instead of i-ta-ap-pi (taptim), as read by Dossin (1956: 67). * J. Sasson (1985: 252-3) has questioned some of the assumptions and synchronisms made by Charpin and Durand. " For photographs, hand copy and a discussion of the iconography, see Franke (1977: 63, and microfiche C-8).58 Mesopotamia and Egnunna.”” The text under consideration was written in two columns and is a composite of three impressions on a letter envelope fragment. This transliteration follows Whiting (1987: 26), iL. Nueto-atrucum 1-4, Nair-aum, beloved of Tispak, 2. na-ra-am ‘Tigpak ensi of ESnunna 3. [ensia] presented (this seal) 4. (af to USasum, his son-in-law, 3. [ana] ). the son of Abda-el, ii, 6. UOska-sum the rabidn amurrim 7. ecmisbu 8. dumu Ab-da-el 9. [rat?)-bi(?)]-an 10, [A-mur}i-im 1. Lesghieié Nar-abum was a ruler of ESnunna during the early Old Babylonian period (Edzard 1957: 67, 71ff.), contemporary with Ibbi-Sin of Ur and ISbi-Erra of Isin. It was I8bi-Erra who possibly appointed Niir-abum to the throne after his predecessor had been defeated and ESnunna was in danger of falling into the hands of Subartu (Whiting 1987: 24). Eight year names (OIP 43: 170, 172, 175, 176 and 184) and some inscriptions (see RIM: 48Sff.) are known, at present, for the reign of Nir-abum. USagum and his father Abda-el, furthermore, are mentioned in other documents from ESnunna (4S 22 letters n° 11, 12 and 24) and in one from Isin (BIN 9 316).?" > In the case of ESnunna, the extant examples include the seals presented by Kirikiri to Bilalama, his son; Bilalama to Wusum-befi, a singer, Ur-Ningi8zida to Erra-bani, his son; Ibal-pi-el to Nir-[ |, his wife, and {to Béleti, (2). For a catalogue of these seals see Sollberger (1965: 29). 2 BIN9 316 contains a list of Amorites who receive gifts, Abda-el and his son USaSum are mentioned in lines 13-14. The document is dated to the 15* year of I8bi-Erra, itis part of the so- called Isin craft archive, and belongs to step 5 “disbursement of finished products,” according to Van De Mieroop’s (1987: 10) typology. It is worth noticing that Fitzgerald (2002: 27) has recently suggested that lemsium, the person listed in i: 17, is probably the homonymous king of Larsa.59 Whiting’s study of these sources is an important contribution to the history of ESnunna during the early Old Babylonian period. His analysis reveals the family ties established between Niir-abum and Abda-el. As our inscription mentions, USasum married a daughter of Nar-abum; and still another of Adba-el’s children, his daughter, married king Bilalama, the son of Kirikiri and possitly nephew to Nir-abum. These weddings are, undoubtedly, diplomatic marriages, and they ought to be read in terms of the alliances that Old Babylonian rulers were continually interweaving. After the fall of the Ur III dynasty, the political situation of Mesopotamia was unstable, which nourished the hopes of those ambitious monarchs who tried to extend their domains. The rulers of a ‘number of former subject kingdoms, therefore, sought to detach themselves from the southem capitals by means of strengthening diplomatic ties with neighboring states. Even though Nir-ahum’s degree of independence from Isin is difficult to ascertain, as an ensi of ESnunna, he might have had, or claimed, certain royal prerogatives during this period.” Whiting has characterized Abda-el as an Amorite of high status (p. 27), and he also implies that Abda-el could have been an Amorite chief because Bilalama waited tll Abda-el’s death to fight the Amorites, as mentioned in one of Bilalama’s year dates. The fact that Abda-el called himself rabian amurrim, however, does not necessarily indicate that he was the leader of those Amorites whom Bilalama fought. Evidently, the term Amorite had many nuances and was used for different purposes in antiquity. If there were hostile Amorites there were also kings who called themselves “chieftain of the Amorites,” as for instance king Abi-saré of Larsa. ‘Marriage was not the only strategy that brought Abda-el and the kings of E’nunna together. 4S 22 n° 11 shows that a gift exchange must have also taken place between 2 W. Hallo (1957: 47) has argued that “When the dynasty of Ur lost control of all these cities, their ensi’s continued, in some cases, to rule under the same title, though now acknowledging the city-god as king instead of the king of Ur. In this way the ensi+title became once more a sovereign one. The development is clearest at ESnunna, but we note it also in Assur and Elam.”60 ‘Abda-el and king Bilalama, because the sender of this letter, presumably USaSum, asks Bilalama to send him the gifts promised to Adba-el, and to remit presents for Abda-el’s funeral separately.” That Abda-el’s funeral was an important event becomes clear from the letter itself, 20.% 20-21. and all the envoys of the land 21. Méeli-Slaa-na 22-24, are coming to the “funeral” of Abda-el, 22. [qi-buer|i-im 25-26. and all of the Amorites are gathering. 23. fa Ad-dla-el 24, [i-la-ku)-ni-im 25. ie A Remueru-uam keicbu-Su 26.li_pdbu-ra-am (...) ‘The apparent magnitude of Abda-cl’s burial indicates that he was something more than a simple Amorite of high status. In addition to that, the diplomatic marriages that he established with the kings of Egnunna, Nar-ahum and Bilalama, together with the presents that he was expecting from Bilalama before he died, suggest that Abda-el could very well be considered a (petty?) king. This evidence plus other instances in which rabidin amurrim is clearly a royal title in the Diyala region, seems to substantiate the royal status of Abda-el. A votive inscription written on an onyx vase (Babyloniaca 4, 1911: 248-9 = RIM IV: 810), which is said to have come from Nippur, also mentions a rabian amurrim; the transliteration follows Frayne’s (1990: 810), Lana 4, Ammi-{Stamar, 2.81Nin.Suk.nir 5. [the son/servant(?) of] Didanum, 3.[be]-el-ti-su 6. the rabiain amurrim 4.[Am-mij-is-ta-mar 7. for (the sake) of his own life, ® tt is important to mention that the sender, whose name is not mentioned, refers to king Bilalama as “brother.” As is well-known, in political parlance this could mean a kinship relationship or that sender and addressee had the same rank: |. {a-n]a Bi-la-la-ma 2. [qi]-bi-ma 3. al na -ku a-fuckit 4. Si-ir-ka it da-mu-ka “Speak to Bilalama, I am your brother, your flesh and blood.”61 S.fx D]i-da-ni-um 8. presented (this vase) 6.{ra-b]i-an MAR.TU 1.to 1 fan|a bacla-ti-Su 2. (the goddess) Ninsuknir, Bight 3. his lady. ‘The restoration of line 6 is not completely certain, M. Stol (1976: 87) reads lines 5 and 6 slightly differently, that is, 5. ((x) x]-x-da-ni-um 6. [ra-bi]-a(2)-an MAR.TU; however, Frayne (1990: 810) comments that “the traces before the ~an sign in the photo favor a reading [6]i- rather than [a’.” The use of the bi-sign fits well into the pattem of the writing rabidn amurrim during the early Old Babylonian period, as already mentioned.” Frayne thinks that the rabid amurrim is Ammi-Istamar, whose territorial sphere of influence is unknown (p. 810); whereas Stol suggests that line 5 might contain the gentilic diddmum. As I understand this inscription, the rabian amurrim is actually *[DJidénum.* This interpretation is based on the comparison with other inscriptions in which rabidn amurrim qualifies the name of the person who is mentioned immediately before the title, thus, for instance, in RIM IV: 683 and 485. > As far as L am aware, there is no attestation of rabidn amurrim written *ra-bi-a-an (see footnote n° 4). Even though this writing is attested in a similar context, i<., ra-bi-a-an /Am-na- ‘an Sa-ad-la-aé (seal impression on CT 48 83), this seal is, however, later. The year of CT 48 83 is lost, but on a prosopographic basis the document can be safely dated to the time of Ha. *5 Of course, there is no certainty that Didénum is, in this broken context, indeed a personal name; however, such an interpretation is not impossible. According to CAD D: 165a, sv. dita, “The ‘word di-ta-nu explained as “Sutean’ in Malku 235 (...), explained as ‘Amorite’ probably refers to the gentilic Tidanum and Tidnum(...), which occurs in WSem. personal names as Ditana (see Landsberger Fauna 94), Dignum (in Su-mu-di-id-nu-uo, see Chiera, PBS 11/2 p. 119 n° 36).” During the OB period, this noun appears as one of the constitutive elements of two royal names from the First Dynasty of Babylon, namely, Ammi-ditana and Samsu-ditana. Therefore, the “Didinum of our text could be interpreted either as a partial ~or complete personal name preceded by a dumu-sign (¢.g., RIM IV: 683 and 485), or by an arad sign (¢.g., LIH'1 66 ).62 The paralle! also applies to the rabian amurrim of YOS 14 207 + seal n° 93. This document is an expenditure of oil rations dated to Abi-saré 10/VIV/O, king of Larsa.* ‘The tablet bears the following seal impression, Dan-ni-ia ugula Su-i arad A-bi-sa-re-e ra-bi-an MAR.TU S. Simmons (1978: 14) describes the seal in these terms, “Seal 93 is the seal of the ugula ui (wakil gallabi, foreman of the barbers) who is also characterized as ra-bi-an MAR.TU (Chief of the Amorites).” D. Charpin (1979: 196, see also Frayne 1990: 167) criticized ‘Simmon’s interpretation, because, according to him, the title rabiain amurrim qualifies king Abi-saré (see also UET 8 65) rather than Danniya. This explanation is convincing, for it seems unlikely that a person would be at the same time ugula &u-i and ra-bi-an MAR.TU, that is, a royal official and a “sheikh” of the nomads. There is, possibly, still another rabian amurrim in AS 22 n° 3, an early letter from ESnunna. The name of the sender is not written down, and the recipient is be-(Ji-ia], “my lord.” Whiting (1987: x) dates the text to the early Old Babylonian period, more precisely to the time of Bilalama, who was contemporaneous with the kings of the Isin-Larsa period. The letter is very damaged and there is a lacuna from line six of the obverse to the beginning of the reverse. The sender informs us that the city (unspecified) is safe and asks for news. According to Whiting (1987: 38-39), the lines of the reverse in which the rabianum is mentioned run as follows, 281.1 silay ba /2. Dasducru-um | 3. ki Li-piit-ir-ra | 4, ba-2i/ 5. kisi Dan-ni-ia | 6. iti dug-kis/ 7. mu en “utu / 8. maé-e in-pad. “‘one liter of oil-ration, *(for) Dagurum. “Issued by Lipit-Irra. ‘The seal of Daniya. “Date.63 4. um-ma a-na-{ke-ma] 5. ki ga ra-bi-{a-an) (2) 6. A-muri-imixt{ 7 thes termed ?-umm(?)] 2-8. left edge ‘you come to me. 8. mi-im-ma sfa imagquaakkum\(?) Mi-ti-kam\ ‘This restoration is problematic, especially because the word rabianum —granting that the linking of the extant, and the restoration of the missing, signs are correct—is clearly written with the bi-sign. As already mentioned, this seems not to have been the usual writing during the early Old Babylonian period. The presence of the word amurrum, furthermore, does not guarantee the restoration rabianum in the previous line. In any event, this letter is, unfortunately, too fragmentary to shed any light on the interpretation of the rabian amurrim. Examples of rabian plus (gentilic) words other than amurrum are rather poorly documented. Itir-Sama&, of Kisurra bore the title rabian rababi (MDOG 15: 13), 1, bot Utu 1. Idir-Samaé, 2. ra-bi-an 2.rabian 3. Ra-ba-bi-ma” 3. Rababi, 4, dumu Fedin-dingir 4. son of Iddin-ilum, 5. ensia S.ensi of 6. Ki-sur-ra 6. Kisurra, 7. kidg “Ut 7. beloved of Samas 8. An-rmuwni-tum 8. and Annunitum 7" Different readings were suggested for the last sign of the word Rababi-ma, thus, Ra-ba-bi-x (Walther 1917: 109), Ra-ba-bi-ma (Thureau-Dangin VAB I: 52), and Ra-ba-bi-ke, (Stol 1976: 86). More recently, Frayne (1990: 651) has given fuller details about the history of these bricks ‘and the reading of the last sign of Rababi. According to him, “None of the Itir-Sama8 bricks ‘could be located in Istambul or Berlin. The inscription was collated from Babylon photo 1145, ‘which shows the brick which was published in MDOG 15: 13. The last sign in line 3 was read as ke, by Hommel, Stol, and Heltzer. Collation of the excavation photo reveals a clear -ma.”64 This inscription appears on some bricks reported to have come from modern Abi-Hatab, ancient Kisurra. In his translation, Frayne (1990: 651) renders “Itir-Sama8, chief of the Rababeans;” which agrees with Stol’s (1976: 86) proposal. Thureau-Dangin (VAB I: 153), on his part, does not translate the word Rababi. Walther (1917: 109), however, interprets Itdr-Sama3 as being the rabidmum of the city of Kisurra, and he also rejects Meyer's opinion that Itar-Sama8 was himself the ensi of Kisurra.* D. Edzard (1957: 136) also thinks that Itdr-Samaé was a “mayor,” for he comments “{MDOG 15: 13] ist die Bauinschrift eines ‘Burgermeisters’ von Rababim.” Even though the interpretation suggested by Walther and Edzard finds support in the fact that the city Rababi is attested with the city (uru) and place (ki) determinative,” it is also possible to consider Rababi as a gentilic, as Stol (1976: 86) did. This is so, due to the fact that during the Isin-Larsa period, several kings bore the title rabian amurrim, i.e., rabidn + a gentilic. Itdr-Samas was possibly a prince by the time this inscription was written, since the text mentions his father, Iddin-ilum, as the ensi of Kisurra. Later on in his life, Itdr-Sama8 must have succeeded his father as the ruler of Kisurra, because several tablets excavated at this site record a number of Itir-Sama8’s year names (e.g., Kienast 1978). No other inscription of this ruler is known, but there is a seal impression of one of his servants on a British ‘Museum tablet.” Based on the “Schriftduktus,” Edzard (1957: 136) dates this brick inscription to the time of Stim@-el, Niir-Adad, and Sin-iddinan, that is, the early Old Babylonian period. As were many other Old Babylonian cities, Kisurra was independent 2 Walther is categorical: “Patesi von Kiswra ist natiirlich nicht Irir-Samaé, wie Ed. Meyer, Gesch. d. Alt,’ §385 Anm. und * §413 Anm. schreibt (’§413 Anm. richtig /din-Iu Patesi von Kisurra), Sonst wire die Verteilung beider Titel und ihre Reihenfolge unerklirlich. Iri-Samas war rabidmum in dem Stidtchen Rababi.., welches wohl zu dem Gebiet seines Vaters gehérte.” ® Thus, for instance, in BIN 2 77: 33, YOS 12 434: 4, BIN 7 182: 3 and YOS 12 126: 5 (RGTC III: 192). > The tablet dates to the year 1 of Manna-balti-el, king of the Mananna dynasty (see RIMIV: 652).65 from time to time, to be finally conquered and annexed to Larsa, according to Rim-Sin's 20™ year formula. A brick excavated at Tell al-Suleimah, possibly the ancient city of Batir, bears the inscription of a rabian (x x] of the city of Batir (RIM IV: 702), 1, Afiabbutum 1. Ayabum, 2. dumu d-x xxx 2. sonof A-{}, 3. ra-bivan x x 3. rabiam( 4, $a Badtibi® 4, of Batir, . ana ba-lastinbu 5. for his life, 5. @ BactinriStum) 7 built . purus 6. the temple of Batiritum Ayabum was, apparently, an independent ruler of Batir, near or on the Diyala River (Frayne 1990: 702). Unfortunately, the text is, as usual, broken in the key passages; therefore, the personal name and the gentilic that goes with the title are missing. Taking into account the inscriptions of Sin-gamil and Itdir-Sarrum from Diniktum and Arim- of Mé-Turan, all of them from the Diyala region, chances are that line 3 of RIM IV: 702 is to be restored rabian [MAR.TU]. If Frayne’s transliteration is accurate, and there are indeed two signs after rabian in line three, such a restoration would be plausible. A tablet from Sippar (CT 48 83), has the seal impression of the otherwise unrecorded title rabidin Amndn-Sadlas. Finkelstein (CT 48: 7) catalogues this document as a “memorandum releasing (?) (nasdfu) a person and a family (bit PN) from the dikiitu duty of 1 Sa-at-la-a3.” E-ri-ib-EN.ZU dumu PuzureAkSak" — 1. Erib-Sin, the son of Puzur-AkSak, 2. and the household of Ira-gamil, 3-6. are exempt in the recruitment of the men of Sadiaé for the harvest. PAA rey dumu Ib-bix-{66 9. it fbar-za / ne-ne}-gar u.30.kam 10.[ pra wt ke Seal: Sucmu-SUtu dumu A-pil-“EN.2U ra-bi-a-an Am-na-an Sa-ad-la-dé Erib-Sin, the son of Puzur-Aksak, is known from several other documents.*' He is recorded during the reigns of Sin-muballit and Hammurabi, and his sister, Lamassi, was a naditum of Sama in Sippar.”? M. Stol (1976: 86-7) cites this seal as evidence for rabianum plus a tribal name. He compares Amnén-Sadla§ with Sippar-Amnanum, with Amndnum referring to Amorite nomads who had settled in a section of Sippar. Stol also adduces the cases of Bablukulim (lugal Tu-tu-ub i ma-at Am-na-ni-im), and Sin-kasid and [lum-gamil (both lugal Am-na-nu-um), who are “kings of the Amnanum.” In a letter to Sin-muballit (Falkenstein 1963: S6ff.) there is a mention of the Amndn-Yabrur which, according to Stol, parallels the Amnan-Sadlas, From this set of comparisons, Stol arrives at the conclusion that Stimi-Sama8 was the sheikh ofa tribal group, the Amndnum who lived in or near the city of Sadla8. Stol himself sees the difficulty in this interpretation, because a tribal name followed by a city name —instead of the reverse, ¢.g., Sippar Amndnum- is unusual (p. 86). In spite of this remark he nonetheless states “CT 48 83, *' He is mentioned, for instance, in CT'2 22: 2 (Sm) and 46: 6 (Sm 14) litigation for the division Of the profits between Erib-Sin and the heirs of his deceased partner, Irra-gamil (see Veenker 1974: 14 note 47), CT 2 26: 2 (Sm 19) Erib-Sin inherits his father’s house. CT2 28: | (Ha) ‘appiitu with Nit-Sama8. CT 4 6a: 7, CT 6 34b: 5 both are litigation documents. CT 8 43a: 3, 8, 18 (Ha) litigation between Erib-Sin and the heirs of Irra-gimil over a slave girl. VS9 18:3 (Ha 22), 46: 11 he delivers barley to the temple of Sin. VS9 48: 11 (Ha 32) witness. * Lamassi was one of the nadifums of considerable wealth (see Harris 1962: 9 and 1970: 317).o7 bearing the seal impression of the sheikh of the Amnan-Sadla8 seems to suggest that part of the population of Sadla8 led a nomadic life.” However we may consider the “tribal,” “nomadic,” or “ethnic” component(s) of the town Sadia, there is no implication that the rabianum of the place is anything other than an urban authority. Although this is not the place to discuss the city of Sadla8, we do know that parts of Sippar were named Amnanum and Yabrurum, and the same situation might have also applied to Sadlas. The question is not who gave the name to these places, but whether the population of cities consisted of “nomads” who were led by “sheikhs.” There is, unfortunately, no archaeological evidence from Sadia, which was located in the Diyala region (Harris 1976: 148). Nonetheless, it is worth mentioning that in the case of Sippar-Amnanum, also named after a “tribal group,” the names of wide streets where houses were located, as well as the existence of a city wall and gates, are known (Harris 1975: 15, 20, Keith 1999: 158ff.). In her article on foreigners in Old Babylonian Sippar, R. Harris (1976: 150) refers to CT 48 83. According to her, Siimi-Sama& was the rabi@num of Amnan-Sadla8. From this study we learn that Puzur-AkSak, the father of Erib-Sin, and Irra-gimil, all of them mentioned in CT 48 83, were originally not from Sippar but from Sadla8. In Sippar, Erib-Sin was engaged in overland and city trade, and in the time of Sin-muballit he had a partnership with Irra-gamil. A number of lawsuit documents (e.g., CT2 22, 46 [Sm 14], CT 8 43a (Hal), in which Erib-Sin and the descendants of Irra-gamil are involved, show that the dealings among these persons continued after Irra-gamil’s death. In CT 48 83 Irra-gimil’s household is mentioned after the head of the family even though he had already died.” As natives of Sadlas, Erib-Sin and the members of Irra-gimil’s household were responsible for performing dikiitu- ® According to Harris (1976: 148ff.), Irra-gamil died at some point during the reign of Sin- muballit. Judging from the lawsuit cases, his family included two sons, two daughters (at least ‘one of them, Iltani, was a naditum of Samai), two wives and Irra-gimil’s brother.68 service in the harvesting of that city, but CT 48 83 granted them an exemption from the duty. It is difficult to believe, therefore, that Sim4-Samas, who rolled his seal on the tablet, was a tribal sheikh because harvesting is usually not a nomad’s affair. Under these circumstances, Harris’s suggestion that Siimd-Samaé was the rabi@num of the city Amnén-Sadla seems more plausible. This interpretation, however, does not solve the problem of why the city of Sadlas is mentioned as Amnan-Sadlaé on the seal, whereas in the text the service is characterized as the dikiirum of the men of the city of Sadla8. It is also remarkable that there seems to be no other attestation of a city Amnan-Sadlas (see RGTC Ill: 215). Things are further complicated by the fact that the seal impression of Stimi-Samaé does not correspond with the legend of extant seals of other rabidnums who were city authorities. There is, nonetheless, one possible exception to this, the seal of the rabiénum Ambuna-abi, to which I will refer later on. The typical seal of a rabianum —in the sense of a city authority or “mayor”-- rolled on Old Babylonian documents always follows the pattern PN (i.e., the rabidnum’s name), dumu PN (father’s name), arad DN (servant of the god[s]'s name{s)); thus, the title rabianum is not included as part of the seal legend in any of the existing instances. Rather, Siimd-Samas’s seal resembles Itir-Sarrum’s, Itiar-darrum ‘Sitmi-Samas rabian amurrim ay mar Apil-Sin Sa Diniktim - rabian mar M-{ ] Amnan Sadlas ™ Thus for example “Utu-dingir / dumu Wa-tar-I-ku-nu-um / arad AN.AN.MAR.TU (CT 47 19 + 19a); Ra-ab-bu-ha-dusi | dumu Ta-ri-du-um | arad EN2U (CT 47 58); Im-guerum / dumu Ig- mil-"EN.2U / arad °Nin-Subur and Sa-ri-ia | dumu I-zi-ga-bid?) / arad Sa °EN.ZU (both in CT 48 44); Nue-tir-“Utu / dumu Zi-ia-tum / arad AN.AN.MAR.TU (CT 48 70); Na-bi-i-li-éu / dumu E-te- el-li-ia/ arad AN.AN.MAR.TU / i: “Nin-'sighan-na (TIM 4 5/6), etc. I will refer to the rabidrums’sealings, in more detail, under the next subheading.9 ‘The crossing arrows indicate that Siimi-Samaé could have been, actually, the son of the rabian Amnan Sadla8. This assumption is, however, uncertain, because in seal legends paternal ties seem to come before the title, unlike royal inscriptions. From the parallel between these two seal impressions, still another comparison of the titles suggests itself, rabian Amurrim Sa Diniktim rabian Amnén — Sadlas -abian Amurrim of Diniktum rabian Amnanim of Sadia’ The gentilic Amndnum is clearly a bound form; therefore, the construct chain rabian Amniin Sadlag substitutes for the genitival construction rabidn Amnanim sa Sadlag, with the determinative pronoun Sa, “the one of.” Itdr-Sarrum and Sin-gémil, both kings of Diniktum, use a similar title, namely, rabian Amurrim Sa Diniktim. It is then likely that rabian Amndn Sadlas was the title borne by the ruler of the city Sadla8. The lack of other inscriptions of this ruler can be attributed to the fact that SadlaS has not been excavated.** IER. Harris (1976: 150) is right in dating CT 48 83 to the early Hammurabi period, more precisely Ha 5, then it is possible that independent kings who ruled over individual cities were still using the title rabidn + gentilic. It is worth recalling, furthermore, that Sin- > Yet, two inscriptions of another king of Sadia, Simi-Amnanim, are known. The first appears on two stamped bricks found at ISchali, the second, on an object that was possibly a bench for offerings. In both cases Sim#-Amnanim is characterized as lugal Sa-ad-la{ai") (see RIMIV: 694-9). Still a third king from Sadla8, Simd-numhim, is known from a treaty that he concluded with Ammi-duSur, the king of Nérebtum (see Greengus 1979: 74fF). A king Simd-numbim ruled ‘over Marad (Edzard 1957: 127ff.) and has been associated with the one that signed the treaty with ‘Ammi-duur. Based on tablets found in Marad from the time of Simi-la’el of Babylon, Jacobsen (1940: 124), established the synchronism between Simi-numhim of Sadlaé and Sama-Ia’el of Babylon (see also Greengus 1979: 20 n. 97). However, this is problematic because the only reason why Simd-numbim is considered king of SadlaS is because most scholars have taken Ammi-dudur as king of Nerébtum and have assigned Sadlas to Simi-numbim (Greengus 1979: 22). If SimG-numbim was king of Sadlas, the chronological sequence is, then, Siim@-numbim contemporary of Siimd-la’el, and Siimi-Samai, contemporary of Hammurabi. Whereas the place of king Sumé-Amnénim in the chronology of Sadla3 remains to be determined.70 gdmil of Diniktum bore the title rabid amurrim at about the same time. After all, this was a period in which Mesopotamia was far from being unified under a single king. The only other seal legend known to me which also includes the title rabiznum ‘was published in transliteration by D. Charpin (1985a: 191), while D. Parayre (1985: 233-235) provided a photograph, hand-copy, and an iconographic description. Both ‘studies agree on dating this cylinder seal to the early Old Babylonian period, Isin-Larsa, according to Charpin, or pre-Hammurabi according to Parayre. The three-lines inscription reads, Am-bu-na-a-bi dumu J-Sa-nu-um ra-bi-a-nu-um Chaypin interprets the name /Sanum as “powerful,” and comments on the etymology of the name Ambuna-ahi; apparently, none of these names are attested elsewhere. Charpin compares this seal with that of C7 48 83, which is also the only approximate parallel known to him, and concludes “Ici, toutefois, le nom de la tribu ou de la ville dont le propriétaire du sceau était ‘cheikh’ ou ‘maire (...) n'est pas indique.” Interestingly ‘enough, Parayre also suggests that “L’amorite Ambuna-abi fut alors maire ou cheikh, fonction légitimée par ce cylindre de présentation au roi” (p. 234). Ambuna-abi’s cylinder seal is certainly more difficult to interpret than the seal on CT 48 83 because it lacks any contextual reference. If our line of reasoning as regards the rabian Amnan Sadias is correct, and in view of the characteristic pattern evident from the seals of the rabidmums, who were urban, non-royal, authoritics, it seems reasonable to conclude that Ambuna-abi_ was not a “burgomaster.” As already mentioned, none of the rabianums’ seals includes the title in its legend; but in contrast there is at least one royal seal, that of Indr-Sarrum’s, which does have the title.n ‘There are yet two other attestations of the bound form rabian plus nouns other than city names or gentilic adjectives; these cases are rabian babrigu on the one hand and rabian nérim, on the other. The first example is mentioned in an inscription on four stamped bricks found at modem Isdn-Dhadak, ancient Mutald, 18 miles north-east of Ki8. Of the four bricks that Langdon (1924: 40) reported, only two could be found in the Ashmolean Museum (Frayne 1990: 659), GAJBI-NIMR-ma-bi-de-e GA/BI-NIR-ma-bi-de-e, 1 1. 2. dumu Matsa? bum 2. son of Masalum, 3. ra-bi-an 3. rabigin 4, ba-abeticsu 4, babtisu 5. isn e-mu-gi-su 5. by his (own) means 6. bad Sa Mucta-lu* 1. built 7. tepueud 6. the wall of Mutala. The reading of the personal name in the first line is uncertain, and there seems to be no other attestation of this name. The unique title rabidn babrifu is difficult to interpret because the meaning of the word babrum itself is controversial, and it conveys, apparently, different nuances. The Akkadian dictionaries (CAD B: 9b, AHw B: 94:b) render babrum as “quarter of a city, neighborhood, ward (as subdivision of a city’s population).” But I. Gelb (1968: 43b) suggests that in certain cases babrum could have denoted “small encampments, each probably restricted to individuals belonging to a certain tribal grouping.” In a similar vein, Donbaz and Yoffee (1986) speculate that babrum could have been a lineage group. Following Gelb’s interpretation, Stol (1976: 80) infers that there were rabidnum-sheikhs heading small encampments, and that “particular ‘sections,’ consolidated as ‘wards’ of a settlement, could have their own rabianum, now alderman.” This would explain, according to Stol, the existence of more than one rabidnum in a city. This interpretation, however, seems to reverse Gelb’s (1968: 43b) proposal because he states that in his list of Amorites babrum cannot denote as large asection as a quarter of the city. In other words, for Gelb the Amorite encampments, namely, the babtums, were smaller than the “wards.” In contrast, the hypothesis of the consolidation process would imply that Mesopotamian cities were mostly the result of nomadic sedentarization. It seems unlikely, furthermore, that a “sheikh” or even an “alderman” should claim to have built the city wall of Mutal6. In this respect, Frayne’s (1990: 659) idea that the inscription belongs to the local city ruler is more convincing. Donbaz and Yoffee’s suggestion to consider babrum asa lineage group will, then, fit nicely into the pattem rabian + gentilic, in this particular case, “headman of his lineage group.” The title *rabian narim, “chief of the river district,” appears in a two-columned votive inscription written in Sumerian (L/H I 66), which comes, possibly, from Sippar. ‘The slab was dedicated to the goddess ASrétum by Itdr-a&dum for the wellbeing of Hammurabi. Even though Walther (1917: 109) noticed the title rabian idtx+{ _], he was unable to decide whether narum referred to a river district, or whether it was part of a place name. More recently, M. Stol (1976: 83) has restored rabidin id S[i-lé-ku (?)}, a restoration most Assyriologists now follow (.g., RGTC III: 307, RIM IV: 359), ii, U.nam-ttit 11. For the life of 12.Ha-am-mu-r{a-bi] 12. Hammurabi, 13.tugal mar-{tu} 13. the king of the Amorites, 14 Loir-af-d{u-um] 14, Irar-addum, 1S.ra-bi-a-an “S[i-Ié-kad?)) 15. the rabianun of the S[ilakkum] river district, 16. dumu Su-ba-an-di[ngir.ke,) 16. the son of Suban-ilan Co a) Itis worth emphasizing that, in this inscription, Hammurabi is characterized as lugal mar- tu, “king of the Amorites.” Stol (1976: 84) suggests that Hammurabi adopted the title “king of all the Amorites” after the destruction of the city walls of Mari and Malgium,B which took place in his 34" year (ca. 1758). This date is important, because the latest reference to the title rabidin amurrim available to us, the inscription of Sin-gamil of Diniktum, seems to have been contemporaneous with the first years of Hammurabi’s reign, i.e., before the consolidation of his all-encompassing kingdom. If that is the case, then it is possible that lugal mar-tu, or Sar amurrim, subsumed and replaced the title rabian amurrim.”” This titulary change could have been intended to denote that Hammurabi had conquered and subjugated many independent rulers, who bore each the title rabianum + gentilic. In this manner, Hammurabi did not consider himself just a “chieftain of the Amorites,” he was the lugal da-ga-an kur mar-tu, “the king of all the ‘Amorite land” (see R/M IV: 354ff.). As for the rabidnum Itir-Sarrum, donor of this inscription, the personal name Itdr-aSdum is well attested in Sippar documents. Thus, for instance, a man called Irdr-aSdum, who bears the title rabian Halhalla is, together with the elders of the city, the adjudicating authority in a lawsuit dated to the 27" year of Hammurabi (CT 48 19: 9). This Indr-adum is, however, the son of Sin-reméni. The patronymics of other homonymous names from Sippar do not coincide with that of the Indr-aSdum of the votive inscription.”* ‘The title rabidnum in connection with watercourses also appears in two Old Babylonian letters. AbB 10 67 is an official communication related to the transportation. * Hammurabi commemorated these deeds in his 35 year formula: mu Ha-am-mu-ra-bi tugal-e inim An *En-lI-lé-ta bad Ma-ri* U bad Ma-al-gie-a mu-un-guiia, “Year in which Hammurabi, the kking, by the command of Anum and Enlil destroyed the city walls of Mari and Malgium.” * Judging from the published royal inscriptions, no other king bears the title lugal mar-tu. It is interesting to notice, furthermore, that Kudur-Mabuk is called ad-da kur mar-tu, “father of the ‘Amorite land,” in certain inscriptions of his son, Warad-Sin (see RIM IV: 206, 208). * Thus for instance, Itdr-aidum, the son of Il8u-GAL(?) (CT 2 42: 25, Ha); and Itdr-adum, son of Etawiraium, from the time of Samsu-iluna (YOS 12 44: 5, Si 2) (Th. Ferwerda and E. ‘Woestenburg 1997).4 of grain from an unspecified place to the city of Larsa. The letter, published only in transliteration and translation, is dated to the first year of Rim-Sin, king of Larsa, [a-nla ra-bi-a-an ra-bi-a-an (Tell) to every rabidmum L Ja ki-sa-di-im 2. of the (river)-bank (that) Se-um Sa &-gal 3. the grain of the palace a-na Larsa i-il-la-kam 4. is coming to Larsa. ali{gja-am ana pa-ni-su 5-8. Send an escort city by city te-eg-ru-ba-tam so that they arrive safely to Larsa. Swup-ra-a-ma 9-10, date: RS 11X23 ‘a-na Larsa" li-i[a-al)-i-me-nim iti gan-gan-e u4.23.kam (0, mu $Rim-fEN.2U lugal PRI AW awe Seal: x Su ]/dumu A-pil{ Varad{ ] In his edition of this letter, F. R. Kraus (1985: 73) wonders whether kisadum is used here in a generic sense or whether it designates a specific area of a river or canal.”° As I understand this text, the connection between rabianum and the (river/canal) bank is general. In this letter, an official who is most probably in Larsa, gives instructions to another official to get ready for the transportation of grain. The addressee of this message is then supposed to perform two tasks. He has first to tell every rabidinum of those cities on the river bank that the cereal is coming, and second he has to send an escort to every city in order to protect the cargo. These protective measures were important in the water transportation of goods because, as Charpin (1983-4: 105) has shown, the closing of watercourses was one of the strategies employed to block the circulation of merchandise.” » He comments, “Der Transport erfolgte wahrscheinlich auf einer Haupt-Wasserstrafe. Oder bezeichnet kikadum hier etwa eine bestimmte Gegende an einem bestimmten Flusse/Kanale, ist also Art nomen proprium?” Charpin refers specifically to goods going from ESnunna to Larsa, which had been withheld by the Sabkanabkum Ipqu-LBtar in Diniktum.18 The other letter in which rabidnum is related to a riverbank is AbB 13 109. There is no certainty about the provenience of this letter; van Soldt (1994: ix), the editor of the volume, has suggested Larsa() as its place of origin. The text is available only in ‘transliteration and translation: 1. a-na ra-bi-a-an g{d]-“idigna 1-2. Say to the rabianum of Gu-“idigna, 2 3. Thus (says) Nabium-malik: 3. um-ma *Na-bi-um-ma-lik-ma 4, “The one (man) of the Kittum temple 4. §a6*Ki-it-tum 3-6. who will come to collect the silver, 5. Saana ki-{babjbar Suud-de-nim 7-8. should not collect the silver (himself). 6. i-{Na-[klam-{mja 9-10. The rabianum should collect the 7, kiebabbar Sfu-a-tf] silver of the city and give (it to him). 8. la-Sa-ad-dal-an 11-12, Moreover, take for me his sealed 9. kusbabbar a-li-im r[a}-bi-a-mu-um tablet.” 10. liSa-ad-di-in li-id-di-in LL teka-nivit-fu 12. (Ni-gé-a-am Even though gi-“idigna, or kistd Idiglar, literally means “the Tigris bank,” the context of this letter seems to favor the interpretation that gi-“Idigna ought to be understood as a settlement.“! This supposition finds support, furthermore, in certain year name formulae in which the (city) wall of gi-“Idigna is mentioned. Thus in Apil-Sin 12a and Hammurabi 42,2 AS 12a mubadgi-“idigna A-pilENZU ki Year: Apil-Sin restored the wall of gir bing ‘idigna *! B. Groneberg (1980: 287) listed gi-“idigna only under the section “Gewiissernamen,” although it clearly had a wall. For a recent discussion of the Old Babylonian city see K. Keith (1999). Other references to gi-“Idigna in year name formulae (¢.g., RS 19, Ha 32a, Ae “m” and “o”) refer unambiguously to the “Tigris bank.” © Note that a variant has mu un gi-“idigna 4-pil-°EN.ZU éu bi-in-2i “Year Apil-Sin settled people in gd-“idigna."6 Ya42 mu, Ha-am-mu-ra-bi lugate bad gal Year: Hammurabi, the king, lifted up like a rm , fed wp ik oo “tigne say oi per-say-om mountain tho top ofthe great cig wal i Seance toreoh meson gi" \digna, ealled it Kir’Samad and built biin-sara ii bad Ra-pi-qum" go the city wall of Rapiqum on the banks of screrurea meurae pehenty But most important is that the letter clearly states that the rabidinum of gi-“digna is the one who has to collect the silver of the city (ku-babbar a-li-im), instead of the temple envoy. The explicit reference to the alum, “city,” seems to leave little room for doubting that we are dealing with the headman of a city. As is usually the case with letters, the lack of background information limits the understanding of the circumstances under which the events described took place. It seems clear, nonetheless, that the writer of this letter considers it more convenient that a city authority, the rabianum, collects the silver instead of a city outsider, i.e., the temple agent. Unfortunately, the reason for this decision is not given, but the fact that such a request is explicitly made points to the unusual character of the situation. In other words, under normal conditions, the temple envoy would have collected the silver himself. ‘The question that arises from these examples is then whether or not *rabian narim was a title, as Stol (1976: 83-85) seems to imply, when he refers to the “unique title rabian id G[N].” Stol approaches this problem from two different angles. In the first place, he compares rabian narim (and the also rare a-bi na-ri-im, from the Diyala region) with the title Sapir ndrim, as attested in the Laws of ESnunna. What follows, as a result, is the hypothesis that the Sapir ndrim is a representative of a centralized and well-organized state, whereas rabid ndrim could have held only local jurisdiction, presumably in irrigation activities. The title Sapir narim, however, is well attested in Old Babylonian documents, while rabidin narim GN ~granting that my interpretation of AbB 10 67 and 137 109 is correct-- is attested only once in a broken line, i.e., in L/H'1 66." In the second place, Stol considers the possibility that Itdr-a&dum could have supervised or controlled the “Amorites” in the river Silakku area, because in this inscription Hammurabi is called “king of the Amorites.” Although the material at our disposal unfortunately does not allow us to comment further on the rabianum Inir-aSdum, it is worth emphasizing that, at present, there is no conclusive evidence to support the existence of a rabian narim office. ‘The analysis of the extant data, as presented in this section, shows that the rabiénum was not a “tribal sheikh,” in its literal meaning. When used as a royal title, rabian amurrim, for instance, denoted “chieftain of the Amorites” only in a figurative sense, as was the case, by comparison, with the epithet ré ‘im, “shepherd,” used by many ‘Mesopotamian kings. The alleged “nomadic” origin of the office rabianum- “burgomaster,” therefore, cannot be substantiated. As a result, it seems safe to conclude that there was no co-existence of the title rabidnum “sheikh of the nomads” and rabianum “mayor of the city,” simply because there is no such a thing as rabidnum “sheikh.” All the instances in which the title is followed by a gentilic are royal inscriptions, even though not all of them belong to very well known kings.** As van Driel (1969: 79) pointed out some years ago, we know very little about small independent local rulers; this lack of knowledge, however, should prevent us from denying them royal status. The word rabidnum, as von Soden has stated, means “bestimmter Grosser,” just as Jugal --that is id gal means “great man,” but these etymologies are not transparent, and “ Examples of the Sapir narim in Old Babylonian documents include, AbB 1 129: 1, CT29 27: 14, CT'52 59: 17, TCL 17 72: 23, VAS 16 120: 12, YOS2 50: 15, YOS2 131: 1, ete. “ In this respect, the object on which the text was inscribed is very telling. Thus, Abda-cl’s name appears on an impression of a seal that king Nur-abum presented to his son-in-law; Itur-Sama8's inscription is on a brick, and the same applies to the inscription of Sin-gimil. As already ‘mentioned, that Sin-gamil’s is a cistern brick does not mean that he was a nomad. The fact that all these artifacts are related to building activities, votive objects, or seals rolled on tablets, stresses the “sedentary” character of those people whom the title rabidrrum qualifies.8 they do not explain social and political processes. Because the history of a specific word is not a historical condensation of the concept it signifies at a given time, etymology has proven misleading; for it has been used to sustain those evolutionary theories that trace the origin of institutions to the “nomadic” past of the Old Babylonian kings. Kraus (1974: 236) has already argued against the idea that a “proper” king should bear the title lugal, and D. Charpin (1999: 106) has recently criticized what he considers “une définition beaucoup trop restreinte de ‘roi’ par les Assyriologues.” The earliest reference to rabién amurrim comes from the Diyala region. Abda-el, who bears this title, was a contemporary of Nur-abum from ESnunna and I8bi-Erra from Isin. Interestingly enough, Abda-el (without title) is also mentioned together with USagum, his son, in BIN 9 316, a document from Isin (see Whiting 1987: 25, and Frayne 1990: 486). From Isin and also from the reign of I8bi-Erra, comes BIN 9 199, the earliest dated document mentioning the word rabianum. The question remains open, then, whether the rabidnum Birbirri in BIN 9 199 was a rabidnum + an unspecified gentilic or whether he was a rabidnum in the sense of a city (non-royal) authority; what is certain, however, is that he was not a “tribal sheikh.” Worth recalling also is the fact that in the south, it was king Zabaya of Larsa who, as presently known, first bore the title rabian amurrim in one of his inscriptions. Table I maps the chronology and the geographic distribution of the title rabidrum + gentilic (rabian amurrim, rabian rababi, rabian amndnim, etc.). It further shows that the title was used both in southern and northern Mesopotamia from the Isin-Larsa period, presumably, until the early part of Hammurabi’s reign. The latest piece of extant evidence for rabian amurrim is the inscription of king Sin-gamil of Diniktum; whereas the latest example of rabianum plus a “* In Kraus’s words, “Ware Konig nur derjenige, welcher sich sumerisch | u ga I, akkadisch arrum nennt bzw. so genannt wird, so hiite es za Beginn der altbabylonischen Zeit nach dem ‘Sturze der ITT. Dynastie von Ur in Mesopotamien nur einen Konig gegeben, den KSnig von Isin.”19 gentilic other than amurrum, i.e., the rabian amnanim of Sadlas, can also be assigned to an early Hammurabi date. The use of the royal title rabidmum fits adequately into the (early) history of the Old Babylonian period, a time when political atomization was the rule, although the idea of a unified Mesopotamia was fondly kept and further promoted in the literary tradition. Besides the title Sarrum, other words to designate “king” were also employed during this time, as Kraus (1974: 236) has shown. Some other terms to denote king are, for instance, rabidnum + gentilic (see table I for the geographical distribution), ensi, (iéSiakkum) mainly in A&Sur and ESnunna, gir-nita; (Jakkanakkum) in Dér, and rubéim in ESnunna.‘” This list includes precisely some of the titles reproduced in the curse formula of an inscription of king Yabdum-Lim from Mari (G. Dossin 1955: 1ff.), V2. Sumi Sa-at-ra-am i-po-si-ni 2-5 (the one who) erases my name, or has 3. hieda-ap-Sa-tit erased, (and) writes his own name 4, Sum-Su la §a-at-ra-am i-fa-ta-ru which was not there (before), or has it 5. i ieSa-d8-td-ru written (for him), 6 ia-sucum er-re-tim 6-1. or because of the curses he instructs, 1. Sani-a-am ifa-ha-zu somebody else to do so, 8. a-wi-lum Su-ti fu Sar-ru-um 8.that man, whether he is a Sarrum 9. Iu $a-ka-na-ke-um (king), 10. fu ra-bi-a-nu-um 9.2 Satkanakkum (~king), 11. du a-wi-lw-tum Sum-Sa 10. a rabidnum (=king), 12. a-wi-lam Sa-tu or anybody else, 13, “Enelil Sa-pinit told 12-15.may Enlil, the judge of the gods, 14. Sar-re-si ti-ma-ti diminish his kingship among all of the 15. na kaval Sar-ri kings. "In earlier studies of the Esnunna documents it was unclear whether rubiim was a royal name or a royal title (for a summary of these views see Greengus 1979: 13, n. 15). More recently, however, Charpin (1985: 62ff.) has shown that rubiim was not only a title used by the kings of ESnunna, but it was even adopted by Yahdum-Lim of Mari. According to Charpin, “La solution consiste peut-étre A admettre que Yabdum-Lim imita l’usage d’Esnunna en adoptant le titre ‘rubiim, alors qu’avant lui les souverains de Mari portaient celui de Sakkanakkum” (p. 64). For a discussion of the titles glr-nita and lugal in Mari see Gelb (1992: 161ff.). “* [am indebted to P. Michalowski for suggesting that these titles mean “king” in the context of this inscription.