Animals in War

After a long time focussing on a new job, a new country, and developing other parts of the website, it is finally time for another blog entry. I do so with the serious but important topic of war. It is difficult to put words on the tragedies of war – the loss of lives, the displacement, the violence and the many years of trauma that follow. With over 10 years of war and unrest in Syria, and now a new war in Ukraine, this seems a good time to pick up on this topic and look at the role of and impact on animals. The devastation to human lives and the countries where war takes place can hardly be overstated. Death, abandonment, injury, displacement, loss of home, family and friends are some of the things faced by victims of war, both human and animal. What follows is a small window into how war affected human as well as nonhuman animals in ancient Mesopotamia. 

Animals fighting and dying alongside humans in war

The most striking way that animals occur in war is as part of battle. Some of the earliest evidence of this in Mesopotamia comes from the visual material – plaques, inlays, seals, sealings and the famous Standard of Ur. The Standard of Ur, found in a wealthy tomb in the so-called Royal Cemetery at Ur is dated to the Early Dynastic III period (mid-third millennium BCE). It has two large panels of decoration, the ‘Peace’ side and the ‘War’ side. On the ‘War’ side, we can see wheeled vehicles (sometimes called battle wagons) pulled by a team of four equids – probably either donkeys or the hybrid equids known as kungas. On the lowest register, they are right in the midst of battle, trampling enemies and with soldiers and drivers in the wagon itself.

The Standard of Ur, British Museum 121201

Another early example of donkeys fighting as part of chariot-teams comes from the so-called ‘Stele of Vultures’. The stele relates to a border dispute between the two city-states of Lagash and Umma in the third millennium BCE, and it records this dispute in both image and inscription. Both sides of the stele are carved, but unfortunately only preserved in fragments. One side shows the god Ningirsu having captured his enemies in a net and, in a register below, probably the same god in his divine vehicle (the part with the animals pulling it has not survived). The other side depicts the king of Lagash, Eannatum, heading a tightly packed infantry unit on foot in the top register; in the second register, he leads another infantry unit from a wheeled vehicle (the part with the animals again not surviving). In a third register, he presides over some of the events of the aftermath of battle, including animal sacrifices, libations and the building of a tumulus for the dead soldiers. The associated inscription mentions how the Lagashite king had burial mounds made for his fallen soldiers and abandoning 60 teams of the enemy’s donkeys and the bones of their personnel. At this point in time, the equids were typically in teams of four, as also on the Standard of Ur. In other words, a total of 240 donkeys of the enemy died in the battle (customarily, the losses of the victor are not recorded). 

Equids continue to fight in human wars throughout the second and first millennia. In the second millennium BCE, there are big changes in chariot warfare: the ’true’ chariot appears. This is a much faster and lighter vehicle, with only two wheels that are spoked rather than the earlier disk version. It is usually pulled by a team of two horses instead of the four-team donkey/kunga. In the Late Bronze Age, this combination became widespread and is found not only in Mesopotamia but also Egypt and the entire Eastern Mediterranean. It was an important part of any army, and the Amarna Letters suggest that cities had difficulties defending themselves without a chariotry component.

In the first half of the first millennium, we also see horses and chariots being a part of the Assyrian army – as well as in the armies of their opponents. They are most evocatively depicted on the palace reliefs of Neo-Assyrian kings, but also in earlier Hittite images such as for example the early first millennium orthostats found at Carchemish. Although chariots appear to continue to dominate, the Neo-Assyrian reliefs also increasingly depict horses used as cavalry. Donkeys and other equids were no longer used for direct battle, but were present in other ways, as we will see below, and could be used in emergencies to escape or retreat from the fighting. 

However, another animal occurs at this time as ridden and fighting: the camel. The Neo-Assyrians did not themselves have war camels, but some of their enemies did. We thus have heartbreaking images of Arabs and their camels clashing with Assyrians and succumbing to the attack.

Palace relief from the North Palace at Nineveh, depicting Assyrians and Arabs in battle, 7th century BCE, British Museum 124926

The final animal that participated in battle that I would mention here is perhaps more surprising: the dog. Their participation is only known from the second half of the third millennium BCE (read also more here). We do not know their exact role during combat, but they are depicted alongside equids and wheeled vehicles, and recorded in the written records as belonging to army generals. This is just one testament to one of the most enduring close human-nonhuman animal relations. With the dog most likely being the earliest domesticated animal, and the many varieties of the relationship over time – including modern canine units and dogs trained to detect explosives, drugs, money and human diseases, among many others things – this early collaboration is perhaps not as unusual as at first sight.

Animals carrying and providing provisions for the army

A less obvious aspect of animals in war is as carrying provisions for the army on the move. The impact of beasts of burden and traction as facilitators of war would have been immense, and can be illustrated with examples at least as recent as WW I and WW II, where horses, mules and donkeys, along with other animals such as dogs and messenger pigeons participated in large numbers. Many died: almost half a million horses are recorded as lost during WW I. Although other animals could be used to carry provisions (for example, cattle and human porters), donkeys were most commonly used for this purpose in ancient Mesopotamia. It is of significance mostly for an army on the offensive – that is, an army moving in order to attack, and therefore needing to bring provisions with it. Especially the large contingents of the Neo-Assyrians moved over very long distances, and sometimes besieged far away cities for months or even years on end. These would have required substantial amounts of food and water, along with other goods – for both humans and other animals.

This much less dramatic aspect is not usually the subject of the visual evidence. It can occasionally be found indirectly in the written sources, although even then usually only when there are problems, as a letter found in the city of Mari shows:

When we departed (to get) here, Ishme-Dagan, together with his troops, started out in the middle of the night for Ekallatum. And the grain that Ishme-Dagan transported on his donkeys from the namashshum fo Ashkur-Addu did not arrive in Razama. And his donkeys returned without their load to Ekallatum. They (say), ‘Ishme-Dagan is hungry. There is no grain whatsoever in the land.’

Hempel 2003, 402-403

Animals as mediators

Beside carrying the provisions, the animals themselves also were provisions. While the diet of the soldiers on the move almost certainly consisted primarily of grain-based food, it may occasionally have included meat. Certainly, significant amounts of sheep were also part of the army, as they were crucial for divination. Divination of sheep livers and entrails (extispicy/hepatoscopy) was an integral part of the army practices from at least the Old Babylonian period onwards. It involves the sacrifice of a sheep and subsequent inspection of its liver. This procedure was used to make enquiries about the next strategic step, and diviners were part of the army personnel. Surviving records explain how to interpret specific features found on the liver – for example a discolouration, lump or unusual shape:

If an enemy plans an attack against a city and its plan is revealed, it will look like this. 

If the enemy musters which hostile intent but the prince’s [army(?)], however considerable it may be, is not powerful enough, (it will look like this). 

Ulanowski 2020, 45

The practice is depicted in palace reliefs and other art. The exact number of sheep killed in this manner is impossible to establish, but given the prevalence of the practice, it must have been quite substantial and added up to many animals in total. To see that animal sacrifices occurred as part of the rituals of war at least as early as the third millennium BCE, we can return to the Stele of the Vultures. In the register where the Lagashian king presides over post-battle rituals, a priest making a libation stands on a pile of headless animals, presumably sacrificed for the occasion.

Palace relief from Nimrud, Northwest Palace, depicting army camp with divination of sheep (lower lefthand corner), 9th century BCE. British Museum 124548.

The aftermath of war

In the aftermath of war, beyond those fallen on the battlefield, animals were present in two ways: as scavengers and as part of the loot. Starting with the former, the Stele of the Vultures again provides a good early example. In the top register with the king on foot in front of an infantry contingent, another fragment of the stele shows vultures carrying human heads and other body parts, picked up from the battlefield (hence also the name of the stele). Similar images occur in other depictions; on a stele of Sargon found in Susa, dogs also participate in this scavenging activity. Such motifs are part of the ideology or we might even say propaganda of victorious rulers, and we can also here detect a repetition of this theme in the Neo-Assyrian repertoire. 

Palace relief from Nimrud, Southwest Palace, depicting a vulture carrying entrails from the battlefield, 8th century BCE. British Museum 118907.

Many animals, especially medium to large-sized mammals, were also important resources. The breeding, rearing, herding and training of various animals would have been an enormous and very expensive affair. For example, the horses used in war would require years of breeding, rearing and training by specialists, which would have required extensive management and administration. Wars were fought for a variety of reasons, but access to resources would have been one of the key ones, even if official narratives offer a different version. Even the Standard of Ur, with its lines of sheep, goats and equids (and some fish!), indicates the significance of (animal) resources. Animal loot was carefully recorded by the Neo-Assyrians along with people and goods. Just as mass deportations of humans was a common practice, so was that of the captured animals – they were displaced and moved long distances, often to the Assyrian heartland and capital. 

These are just some of the ways that animals were part of and caught up in human conflict in ancient Mesopotamia. It is far from an exhaustive account. For example, it is harder to reconstruct the impact on smaller and wild animals. One might here consider the heartbreaking devastation to animals caused recently by the wildfires in Australia – not a case of a human war, but a possible indication of the more ‘invisible’ damage of laying waste and setting fire to cities and animals such as dogs, foxes, rodents getting caught in it. Companion animals may equally lose their home, source of food and co-habitants. Stories of modern war naturally focus on the devastation to humans, but in recent reports on Ukranians forced to leave behind their animal companions, we get a glimpse of yet another aspect of the cruelty of human wars.

References and further reading:

Bahrani, Z. Rituals of War: The Body and Violence in Mesopotamia. (Zone Books, 2008).

Heimpel, W. Letters to the King of Mari: A New Translation, with Historical Introduction, Notes, and Commentary. (Eisenbrauns, 2003).

Lau, D. Tiere im Krieg: Der mesopotamische Raum. Tiere und Krieg, 21–33 (Neofelis, 2017).

Tsouparopoulou, C. The “K-9 Corps” of the Third Dynasty of Ur: The dog handlers at Drehem and the army. Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 102, 1–16 (2012).

Ulanowski, K. Neo-Assyrian and Greek Divination in War: Ancient Warfare Series Volume 3. (Brill, 2020).

Ritual, Archaeology & Animals

I recently attended a workshop in Uppsala on the use of animal bodies in ritual. It’s an old familiar topic that have been part of my research since my postgraduate studies, which makes it kind of bittersweet. But there are always new perspectives, and this workshop gave me the chance to see it from very different contexts that I am used to since it involved mainly Scandinavian archaeology with some Greek and Egyptian added in for flavour. It also meant I got to spend an entire weekend with my friends Bettina and Adam (Bettina is in fact the one who had invited me), who were really the greatest hosts I could ask for. It involved copious amounts of tea, delicious food, in-depth discussions of animal bone depositions and exchange of ideas, visits to the Gustavinaum Museum (with the endearing Juuli telling us all the stories not on display) and the burial mounds in Old Uppsala. Before I get into the nitty-gritty of blood and ritual, I want to send a big thanks to Bettina, Adam, Juuli and the people at the workshop for making it a great weekend.

Photos: Reconstructed Viking bridle at Old Uppsala Museum; burial mounds at Old Uppsala; Uppsala University Lecture Theatre (photo by Juuli Ahola).

 

Ritual

What is ritual? Most of us have a morning ritual that consists of some set sequence of actions, like press snooze on alarm twice, yawn, stumble to bathroom, locate kettle power button and somehow find your way to start the day.

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We also have extensive sports rituals. Most football games start in a predetermined way with the players walking in neat rows out into the field, shaking hands etc – and think of elaborate events like the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games (the word ceremony being a bit of a give-away) and the corresponding carrying of the torch. Or how about the fantastic Maori haka

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When we talk about ritual in archaeology, we usually think of something that has a religious or sacred component.

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Like this dance half-naked with a fire in the dark kind of ritual.

 

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… followed by a spectacularly bloody sacrifice.

Here we immediately run into another hurdle of definition. What exactly constitutes religion or something being sacred? A quick look at the works of great thinkers such as Émile Durkheim or Sigmund Freud might leave you more or less as complexed as to begin with.

The problem is only exacerbated when dealing with archaeological remains. It relates to an important discussion within archaeological theory. Religion today is strongly associated with beliefs, but both beliefs and action form part of religious practices. The question is, is it really possible to identify belief in the archaeological record? Can you identify immaterial thoughts, intentions or ideas in material remains? One branch of archaeological theory, known as cognitive archaeology, focusses precisely on this aspect of the past. This is epitomised in the work of Sir Colin Renfrew, who offers suggestions to the kinds of ritual and symbolic activity that we might find.

Renfrew (1985, pp. 18-20) made a kind of check list of 18 criteria based on four aspects of ritual that we might be able to use to identify it archaeologically. I won’t repeat all of them here, but suffice to give a few examples:

1. ritual may take place in a spot with special, natural associations: e.g. a cave, a grove of trees, a spring, a mountain top.

2. Alternatively it may take place in a special building set apart from sacred functions.

6. The structure and equipment used may employ a number of attention-focussing devices, reflected in the architecture and in the movable equipment.

7. The association with the omnipotent power(s) may be reflected in the use of a cult image of that power, or its aniconic representation.

8. The chosen place will have special facilities for the practice of ritual, e.g. altars, benches, pools or basins of water, hearths, pits for libation.

10. Food and drink may be brought, and possibly consumed as offerings, or burnt/poured away.

13. The sacred area is likely to be rich in repeated symbols (redundancy). [1]

They seem like useful tools, right? They are. But as with so many other things in archaeology (and I assume other disciplines), if you take them as absolute, you can come up with all kinds of fun scenarios and conclusions. The now very famous and funny Motel of the Mysteries by David Macauley has gone so far as to show how everyday scenes from a modern bedroom or bathroom could be interpreted as highly ritual contexts based on archaeological criteria (short extract here). I highly recommend looking at Macauley’s work. Since I don’t want to directly copy his images here (ok, I do, but probably best not to), I’ve attempted my own little illustration of the kind of interpretation we might make based purely on context and finds.

combined

The scene is one of a modern living room (full disclosure: this is very loosely based on one of my previous accommodations). We know what the features are and how to understand them. If we did not have this knowledge, we could use some of the criteria listed above and interpret the whole scene in a very different manner, as seen on the second image. In this kind of parody, a ‘normal’ living room is turned into a temple, complete with idols, offerings and altars.

A related running joke in archaeology is that whenever we don’t know what something is or don’t understand something, we label it ritual. Especially when a context or object seem to have no immediately useful practical function.

Photos: Jokes about ritual as found hanging around the Department of Archaeology. Photos by the author and Jess Beck.

There is an important point being made here about the pitfalls and limits of archaeological interpretation. One that reminds us that archaeology is always only ever the best stories we can tell based on the material available and current knowledge and technology.

Here’s the thing, though. These are wonderful and totally valid jokes about archaeological interpretation. The great thing about them is that while making a bit of a mockery of archaeology, they simultaneously show an aspect of what it is that archaeology can do and can contribute. Because these ‘archaeological’ interpretations of modern scenarios really reveal something about our society today. We do not call our obsession with various media ‘religion’ or ‘worship’, but it many ways it is not that far off, and does manifest itself in similar ways. Our ‘idols’ of TVs, tablets, computers and mobile phones are given prime spots in our homes and lives more broadly. So the same way an archaeological analysis of the context of a modern home will reveal something about the importance of media in modern society, it can also reveal something about the centrality of other things in ancient societies. One might even argue that archaeologists (and anthropologists if there are live beings) would be some of the best equipped for dealing with alien encounters because we are experts in ‘reading’ material remains.

Let’s return to the concept of ritual deposits in archaeology. Ritual has in a sense become a catch-all term for all kinds of religious or sacred acts. This broadness makes the term less useful, but we keep it this way because we sometimes believe we can identity the action without being able to specify its exact nature or purpose. Rituals do have a purpose, but they do not always have an immediately obvious practical purpose. Hence it is often associated with waste. We tend not to like waste, and feel that waste needs explanation (and maybe it does). More often than not, it is likely that ancient people performing a ritual did not see it as waste, but as having a purpose visible to them, but not necessarily visible to us.

A wide range of rituals largely based in mythology and folklore was set out in the Scottish anthropologist James Frazer’s The Golden Bough. This monumental work (the third edition was in 12 volumes) tells wonderful stories of substitute kings, cannibalism and fertility rites, among many other things. Frazer organised the various rituals and traditions into broad categories, but it was Arnold van Gennep who placed them in a tripartite structure of separation/pre-liminial, transition/liminal and incorporation/post-liminal. He saw them as marking transitional points in human life (e.g. birth, death, marriage, or whatever a given group considers significant), and each ritual can elaborate on one or several of the three stages.

Rituals often involve animals, especially as part of sacrifices. Sacrifice is perhaps the most fascinating of all rituals. The topic has sparked an overwhelming amount of literature (see below for some suggested reading). But behind this one word lies a long list of ancient practices. The ancient Greeks performed rituals known as thusia, trapezomata, theoxenia, sphagia and sparagmos, all of which are types of sacrifices (see for example the work of Gunnel Ekroth for papers on this). In the ancient Near East, sacrifices were part of regular offerings in the temples, along with special feasting events and processions. A sacrifice was needed for divination to take place (reading of an animal’s organs in order to predict events or communicate with a deity), and could be necessary for purification and when treaties were signed. Various kinds of sacrifice and ritual communal meals took place in relation to mortuary activities and ancestor worship. Similar ranges can be found just about anywhere in the world, and it is no wonder that we struggle to come up with a single theory or explanation for such a variety of practices. And sacrifice itself is really just one ritual among many.

2b
Seal impression of Akkadian seal from ancient Urkesh, NE Syria. Sacrifice and butcher of bull.

8a
Plaque showing sacrifice and butcher of ram. From ancient Mari in Syria.

In a ritual such as sacrifice, animal and human may face one of their most extreme encounters. Humans deliberately and carefully lead an animal to its death. This is not a black-and-white case of humans being cruel to or not caring about the animal. Paradoxically, an animal is often only considered suitable for ritual if it already has value (symbolic or otherwise). Measures are often taken to ensure the perceived cooperation and willingness of the animal.

Perhaps most frequent is the discovery of animal bodies in burials. You have probably heard of the crazy kinds of animals that the Egyptians chose to mummify – cats, dogs, monkeys, birds, gazelles and crocodiles. In the ancient Near East and many other parts of the world, equids can be found associated with human tombs (see MAPS for the geographical and chronological distribution of these).

Donkeys found at Tell Brak in Syria. Photo credits.

These complete animal bodies suggest a close relationship between humans and equids, where the animals’ presence is not for nutritional purposes, but related to the identity of the deceased and/or a personal connection between the animal and the deceased human. This relationship was felt to be so important that one or more equids were killed and placed in proximity to the human. In some cases, we even appear to have separate equid tombs, where the equid may have been buried for its own sake, in line with the treatment and honour given to its human counterpart.

Thus, rituals represent a very special kind of human-animal relation. More than anything, a ritual that requires interaction with an animal reveals something about human attitudes to that animal, and animals in general. Indirectly, however, it also reveals human-animal relations more broadly. As with so many other things in archaeology, there are no guarantees. Ritual is one of these rather abstract concepts that appeal to our fascination with the mysterious. Even with all possible signs of ritual practice and beliefs checked off, we could end up with a Mysteries of the Hotel kind of scenario. But to me at least that is all just part of the excitement of archaeology. It’s a puzzle-solving business.

This is probably not the last you’ll hear on ritual. Bettina has promised to join with some of her thoughts on the matter soon. I know I’m looking forward to that. Now, the obligatory horses-are-forces-of-power gif:

 

 


References and a few more works on ritual and sacrifice in archaeology:

Bell, Catherine. Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice. 1992.

Carter, Jeffrey (ed). Understanding Religious Sacrifice: A Reader. 2003.

Kyriakidis, Evangelos. The Archaeology of Ritual. 2007

Pluskowski, Aleksander. The Ritual Killing and Burial of Animals. 2012.

Porter, Anne & Glenn Schwartz (eds). Sacred Killing. 2012.

Trumbull, H. Clay. The Threshold Covenant or the Beginning of Religious Rites. 1896.

Renfrew, Colin. The Archaeology of Cult. 1985.

van Gennep, Arnold. The Rites of Passage. 1909.


Notes 

  1. Similar lists of criteria for identifying human sacrifice and sacrifice in iconography can be found in Schwartz 2012 and Recht 2015.