The Liangzhu Paradox: The Lethal Result of an Ideology of Inequality in the Ancient World

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Even after my intense research into the elite use of human sacrifice as a response to ecological stress across the globe, I must admit I was still appalled upon reading this paper detailing how Neolithic Liangzhu residents shaped human skulls and other bones into everyday tools like bowls, cups, masks, and knives.

A finished cup devised from a human skull found in Liangzhu courtesy of Scientific Reports..

A human skull fashioned into a mask found in Liangzhu courtesy of  Scientific Reports

Liangzhu Jade Yue unearthed from Tomb 2 at Yaoshan Site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本

Jade Cong unearthed from Tomb 21 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本

Jade Bi from Tomb 14 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本

Jade hand grip for a fan unearthed from Tomb 15 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Siyuwj

 

https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-025-15673-7

The mere idea that urbanization had reached an extent where the divide between the elite and the general population was so wide that non-elites were being “recycled” into utilitarian objects brought back to me scenes from the sci-fi movie “Soylent Green.”

The researchers’ primary explanation is the Urban Anonymity Hypothesis in which traditional kin-based social structures become loosened or even fractured and “remains could be treated as materials without malice or spectacle.” This is supported by the absence of cut marks, evidence of disarticulation, or burning. Researchers point out this rules out cannibalism, trophy-taking from enemies, or human sacrifice.

The bones were shaped into six recurring tool shapes (cups, mask, scrapers, etc) indicating the objects were produced in a repeatable manufacturing process, a hallmark of craft specialization in a complex society. The modified bones were not found with elite jade objects or in ritual contexts. This separates the practice from high-status ceremonies or temple ritual, placing it in the realm of "everyday craft."

Furthermore, almost 80% of items found in canals and moats were unfinished and subsequently discarded, leading researchers to conclude human bones were readily available so artisans could discard unsatisfactory work without great loss. This points to an urban setting with a relatively high anonymous individual mortality rate.

The research paper, however, is tightly focused on the mostly unfinished discards found in the city’s unusual workshop and canal system. An evaluation of contexts where finished human bone objects were found, however, reveals a different connotation. Finished human bone tools have not been found in commoner residential trash pits even though these same middens often contain finished tools made from animal bone. This indicates human bone tools did not circulate widely as common household items.

Furthermore, human bone tools have not been found in significant numbers at other specialized industrial sites within Liangzhu. The vast majority of finished human bone tools—whether utilitarian scrapers or ritual skull cups—are concentrated in and around the Zhongjiagang bone workshop itself. Finished skull cups have also been found in elite burials unearthed in the peripheral areas of Fuquanshan and Jiangzhuang. Although these burials were accompanied by the Yue, a battle-axe representing military command and the right to execute, it was not a practical weapon.  Instead, it was a symbol of coercive power legitimized by the state religion.

In the richest tombs in the core of Liangzhu, however, the Yue was usually made of jade. For these priest-kings referred to as “Jade Lords,” the yue was part of a standard "kit" of power-regalia that also included the cong (cylindrical tube) and bi (disc). The finest jade yue signaled that their military/executive authority was as sacred as their religious power.

 The elite burials of the "bone-worked tradition" at Fuquanshan and Jiangzhuang show a clear and deliberate pattern of grave goods include a yue made of a less valuable stone like diorite and excluding the cong (symbolizing cosmic connection) and the bi (symbolizing heaven). This pattern suggests they were high-ranking, powerful chieftains whose authority was derived from their connection to the central Liangzhu power structure, but who were not at the absolute pinnacle of it. They were part of the Liangzhu system—hence the Yue—but they expressed their power through a distinct, and perhaps more militaristic or pragmatic, set of symbols centered on the skull cup, and were denied its ultimate expression in jade.

In essence, their burial goods tell a story of "second-tier" elite status: powerful enough to command force (stone Yue) and control a potent ritual tradition (skull cups), but not powerful enough to claim the celestial, jade-based mandate of the core Liangzhu priest-kings.

They were not poorer cousins, however, they were deliberately distinguishing themselves as an elite class with a different ideology. The cong and bi were the core instruments of the state religion practiced by the Liangzhu "jade lords." By not including them, these peripheral elites were signaling that they either did not have access to that level of priestly power or, more likely, that they practiced a different form of ritual, one centered on the power of the skull cup. They were a warrior or secular elite whose power base was focused on military command (the Yue), with its control over life and death (the skull cup), and even possibly economic control, rather than the priestly, astrological, and ancestral authority of the jade-based core.

Furthermore, their sudden appearance in 4800 BP and disappearance in 4600 BP suggests they may have initially been nomadic migrants to Liangzhu who gained control because of their militaristic tendencies during a period of ecological stress then lost control possibly because their worldview and authority waned as ecological conditions further deteriorated.

The Greenland ice cores indicate a massive volcanic eruption occurred at about 4300 BP. The period leading up to the event was not climatically stable. The Liangzhu culture likely endured multiple periods of stress before the final, cataclysmic eruption that resulted in catastrophic monsoons that ultimately destroyed the civilization. The most prominent precursor eruption identified in the ice cores is a massive event dated to around 4660 BP. This eruption, potentially from Mount Aniakchak in Alaska or another high-latitude volcano, would have caused a significant "volcanic winter" and years of monsoon disruption, crop failures, and social chaos, perhaps of an intensity great enough to “dethrone” the warrior-elite of the bone-working tradition.

The ruling "bone-working" elite, who derived their legitimacy from their appearance of brutal power and control, are now seen as failures. Their ideology is discredited. They are blamed for the gods' displeasure. This leads to their swift overthrow—an internal coup, a popular rebellion, or usurpation by a rival faction.

One of the first acts of the new regime would be to formally and violently abolish the previous dynasty's signature practice. The Zhongjiagang workshop is not just abandoned; it is ceremonially shut down. Its tools, both finished and unfinished, are cast into the canals as a symbolic rejection of the old order. The practice is expunged.

There were just a few details that required further investigation. The bone-working workshop was located in the heart of Liangzhu but the finished products appeared in elite burials in peripheral areas. Why would the workshop be constructed in the city’s core when the market was located in the outer areas? Why have no skull cups been found in elite burials within the city? Perhaps an examination of the cultural changes that occurred during the reign of Genghis Khan and his successors would provide a clear model for how a powerful, non-urban elite can exert control over a sophisticated, urban-centered civilization without replacing its day-to-day culture. 

When the Mongols captured centers of production and wealth, they didn’t destroy them but co-opted them instead. Comparing this process to Liangzhu, it explains the construction of the human bone workshop in its core. By establishing their signature bone workshop in the urban core (Zhongjiagang) it was their way of captalizing a key "industrial" asset and using the city's existing infrastructure for their own purposes.

The Mongols introduced new symbols of authority usually related to their military supremacy. During the Yuan dynasty the Mongols used the Paiza, a tablet made of gold silver or bronze, that functioned as a passport and credential. Possessing a Paiza granted the bearer the right to use the empire's vast relay station system (the Yam), which provided them with fresh horses, food, and lodging. But, more importantly, it demanded compliance from all local officials.

The material of the Paiza directly corresponded to the rank and authority of the bearer, mirroring the Liangzhu hierarchy of jade vs. stone Yue. A Gold Paiza: was reserved for the highest-ranking nobles, imperial princes, and especially important envoys. It conferred the highest level of authority and privilege. The Silver Paiza was Granted to lower-ranking officials, military commanders, and important diplomats. The Bronze Paiza was Used by lower-level imperial messengers and officials.

The Paiza was not just a practical tool; it was a piece of the Khan's own authority made portable. When an official showed their Paiza, they were, in effect, speaking with the voice of the Great Khan himself. It was a direct, physical manifestation of the state's power to command resources and obedience across thousands of miles. By controlling who received a Paiza, the Mongol central administration controlled movement, communication, and the exercise of power within the empire. It was the key that unlocked the entire logistical system of the state.

Like the Great Khan who adopted symbols of power from those he ruled, the bone-working commander adopted the local ultimate, sacred symbol of authority, reserved for the supreme ruler and his closest circle in the capital. That would explain why skull cups have not been found in any of the elite burials in the core of the city. However, The combination of stone Yue and skull cups found in peripheral Liangzhu elite burials served like a silver Paiza, powerful symbols of delegated authority granted to a provincial governor or general. They showed that the bearer had real, state-sanctioned power (the stone Yue to command) and a special connection to the ruling regime (the skull cup, a unique ideological symbol), but it was distinct from and subordinate to the supreme symbol of the core (the Jade Yue).

The evidence from Liangzhu, therefore, paints a picture far more nuanced than simple urban anonymity. It reveals a stratified society where a distinct elite faction, possibly arising from migration or internal coup, established a grim new ideological order centered on the utilitarian power of human bone. For two centuries, they ruled from the core, their authority flowing outwards to loyal chieftains who displayed stone Yue and skull cups like silver Paizas—symbols of real, but delegated, power.

Their sudden disappearance around 4600 BP, coinciding with a massive volcanic winter, suggests their pragmatic, coercive ideology was discredited by catastrophe. The workshop was shut down not as an economic decision, but as a political and religious act. In the end, the story of the Liangzhu bone tools is not one of faceless recycling, but of a failed dynasty whose brutal signature practice became its epitaph.

The story of Liangzhu is a stark reminder that the most formidable threats to a civilization are not always external, but can be the direct consequence of the ideologies it tolerates, and the divisions it creates, within its own walls. It is a warning from the deep past: when a society begins to sort its people into categories of the revered and the unimportant, it is a short and perilous path from dehumanizing rhetoric to the literal devaluing of human life.

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Echoes of Sacred Dance; A Tarentine Bronze Celebrating Fertility and Ritual Grace

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Another piece I photographed at the Ashmolean Museum back in 2016 is this bronze figurine of a dancer wearing a basket-like headpiece found in Taranto, Italy and dated between 500-301 BCE.

Bronze figurine from ancient Taranto (ca. 5th–4th century BCE) capturing a moment of ritual motion — a dancer poised mid-step, her arm extended in offering. She wears a short chiton and a striking basket-shaped calathus headdress, symbol of abundance and fertility. Such dancers likely performed in ceremonies honoring Demeter or Persephone, celebrating the renewal of life through sacred dance and the rhythms of the agricultural year. Photographed at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford by the author.

Taranto was a Spartan colony, but by the 5th–4th century BCE it had developed a rich, hybrid culture influenced by both Greek and native Italic (especially Messapian) traditions. Figurines of dancers, musicians, and processional figures were often votive offerings left at sanctuaries of female deities such as Persephone, Demeter, or Dionysos, reflecting the importance of seasonal fertility rites and ecstatic religious performance.

The dancer may have been participating in the Thesmophoria – women’s festivals of Demeter and Persephone, Dionysian rituals involving ecstatic dance and symbolic renewal or local Tarentine funerary cults, where dance symbolized the soul’s passage to the afterlife.

The short, belted chiton identifies the figure as a female dancer or ritual performer, not a deity. The raised arm and forward movement suggest motion—possibly holding a ritual object, such as a tympanon (hand drum) or offering dish, now lost.

The curious “basket-shaped” or “calathus” headpiece is one of the most distinctive elements. In Greek art, the calathus (κάλαθος)—literally “basket”—is often associated with Demeter, Persephone, and women engaged in ritual weaving or agricultural preparation. When worn as a headdress, it often signifies fertility, abundance, and ritual service.

In Greek ritual iconography, women known as kanēphoroi (“basket bearers”) led sacred processions carrying baskets of offerings atop their heads. The Tarentine artist may have immortalized such a figure mid-dance or mid-offering.

Tarentine bronzes like this one demonstrate how ritual dance, female devotion, and fertility symbolism became intertwined in southern Italian religious life. The dancer’s costume and headdress, while Greek in inspiration, show local elaboration—magnifying the calathus and emphasizing the kinetic grace of ritual performance.

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The Changing Faces of Death: Etruscan Funerary Urns in Central Italy

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

While visiting Oxford in 2017, I photographed two anthropomorphic funerary urns dated to the sixth century BCE at the Ashmolean Museum. One urn’s portrait sculpture is highly abstract, while the other is strikingly realistic. The difference reflects not only artistic style but also geography and trade networks: Sarteano and Todi occupied distinct positions in central Italy with differing external influences.

Terracotta anthropomorphic urn representing the upper part of a human figure, with a head-shaped lid featuring a stylized face and perforated hair or helmet pattern. Such urns were typical of funerary practice in southern Etruria, particularly around Chiusi and Sarteano, during the 6th century BCE. They mark the transition from Villanovan biconical urns to later lifelike Etruscan sarcophagi.

Photographed at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford (Accession no. AN1896–1908 PR.361) by the author.

Anthropomorphic funerary urn from Todi, 6th century BCE. Terracotta urn with a naturalistic human head forming the lid, from Todi, Umbria. The urn reflects the increasing realism of Etruscan sculpture in the Archaic period, in contrast to earlier, more schematic examples such as those from Sarteano. By this stage, Etruscan artisans were influenced by Greek Archaic models, emphasizing proportion and individualized features. Photographed at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford by the author.

Sarteano lies in the southern Chiusine area, where Villanovan traditions persisted longer. Todi, on the northern fringe of Etruscan territory near Umbria, was more open to external artistic influences — particularly Corinthian and early Greek Archaic naturalism spreading via Orvieto and Perugia.

The Sarteano urn represents a transitional stage in urn development. Its face is abstract, mask-like, and schematic, emphasizing the idea of the deceased rather than a true likeness. This reflects a symbolic or protective purpose, linking the deceased to an ancestor-focused belief system in which emphasis is on collective family or clan identity. The facial holes may have held metal appliqués or hair ornaments, and the simplified features recall the Villanovan ancestral mask tradition.

In contrast, the Todi urn, though approximately contemporary and often classified as Orientalizing, belongs to a more developed Archaic phase. It features naturalistic facial proportions, carefully shaped ears, and attempts to model hair texture and individual identity. This style reflects the Etruscan adoption of Hellenic ideals of form and beauty, as well as an increasing interest in the human body and realistic portraiture.

These urns foreshadow the reclining sarcophagi figures of the 5th–4th centuries BCE, such as the Sarcophagus of the Spouses. By the sixth century BCE, Etruscan sculptors in northern centers like Todi, Orvieto, and Perugia were exposed to Greek kouroi and korai through imported ceramics and itinerant artisans. These influences encouraged symmetry, proportion, rounded natural forms, and expressive individuality.

This evolution in artistic style parallels a cosmological shift. Funerary imagery increasingly blends ancestral reverence with broader religious cosmology: the deceased are envisioned as participants in a divine-human cosmos, not merely as household members. Across the Mediterranean, gods and mortals alike begin to appear in human form with relatable emotions, making both the afterlife and divine protection conceptually more accessible to the living.

References:

Brendel, O. J. (1995). Etruscan art. Yale University Press.

Carpino, A. (2016). The Sarcophagus of the Spouses: A terracotta portrait of Etruscan identity. In S. Bell & A. A. Carpino (Eds.), A companion to the Etruscans (pp. 219–231). Wiley-Blackwell.

Haynes, S. (2000). Etruscan civilization: A cultural history. J. Paul Getty Museum.

Izzet, V. (2007). The archaeology of Etruscan society. Cambridge University Press.

Spivey, N. (1997). Etruscan art. Thames & Hudson.

Steingräber, S. (2006). Abundance of life: Etruscan wall painting. J. Paul Getty Museum.

Torelli, M. (Ed.). (2000). The Etruscans. Bompiani.

Turfa, J. M. (Ed.). (2013). The Etruscan world. Routledge.

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7th century BCE Ivory depicting the "Sons of Tinia," precursor to Castor and Pollux

 7th century BCE Ivory depicting the "Sons of Tinia" precursor to Castor and Pollux

Here is another double horse-headed pendant carved of ivory said to be from the area near Tivoli, Italy and dated to the 7th century BCE that I also photographed at the Ashmolean Museum in 2016 while I was in Oxford.

Double horse-headed pendant carved of ivory said to be from the area near Tivoli, Italy and dated to the 7th century BCE photographed at the Ashmolean Museum by the author.

Tivoli (ancient Tibur) lay on the eastern edge of Latium Vetus, just east of Rome, in an area inhabited by the Latini, one of the Italic tribes that formed the Latin League. However, by the late 8th–7th century BCE, this region was deeply influenced by Etruscan art and trade from the north and Greek and Phoenician luxury goods arriving through coastal markets such as Veii and Caere.

Thus, the piece was most likely made by a local Latin artisan or a craftsman working in an Etruscan-influenced workshop—possibly even in nearby Veii or Praeneste (Palestrina)—where such hybrid artistic traditions flourished.

The horse motif itself was widely used by Etruscans, Latins, and Sabines as a symbol of power, fertility, and divine favor. Its mirrored composition echoes both Etruscan repoussé bronzes (like the one I posted yesterday) and Near Eastern ivory plaques, showing how international visual language was adopted by Italic elites.

Elephant ivory from Syria, Phoenicia, and Egypt was a prized imported luxury material in central Italy during this period, most likely obtained through Phoenician and Greek traders. Carthaginian and Cypriot merchants traded North African ivory as early as the 8th century BCE, which also reached Tyrrhenian ports. Workshops at Caere (Cerveteri) and Veii imported and crafted raw ivory into inlays, handles, and small sculpted objects similar in style to this pendant.

As with the bronze pendant I posted yesterday, the face-to-face horseheads probably reference the divine twins motif again, representing protection, fertility, or martial strength. In central Italy during the 7th century BCE, depictions of twin horsemen begin appearing in Etruscan bronzes, Praenestine cistae, and Latial ivory plaques, reflecting contact with Greek mythological imagery from the eastern Mediterranean.

Before full Hellenization, these paired horsemen likely embodied indigenous Italic guardian deities connected with fertility, initiation, and protection of travelers or warriors. The Etruscans referred to them as the Tinas Cliniar (“Sons of Tinia”), while the Latins later adopted the Greek names Castor and Pollux, integrating them into Roman religion.

The piece could have served as a pectoral ornament, harness fitting, or votive offering. The use of imported ivory would have underscored elite status and cosmopolitan taste—typical of aristocratic display goods in Latium and southern Etruria.

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Etruscan influence in metalworking of the Golasecca and Veneti cultures

 By Mary Harrsch © 2025

Another piece I photographed at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford back in 2016 - a bronze pendant in the form of two pairs of horseheads with boot-shaped and plain pendants hanging from the base dated between 800-500 BCE. The piece was found in north Italy and the style is similar to some Etruscan work.

Bronze pendant from north Italy possibly from the Golasecca culture dated to between 800-500 BCE photographed at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford by Mary Harrsch.

During this period, the Golasecca Culture, an early Celtic-Italic peoples often linked to the Insubres and Lepontii tribes, inhabited the area around Lake Maggiore and Lake Como. Golasecca artisans were skilled metalworkers, producing bronze ornaments, weaponry, and horse harness fittings. Trade with the Etruscans and Greeks via river and alpine routes is well-documented, and Etruscan bronze goods and motifs often appear in their artwork. Superior Etruscan metallurgy and artistic style spread widely including repoussé decoration, geometric and animal motifs, and use of pendants or dangling elements.

Another possible origin of the pendant may be the Veneti culture of northeast Italy around Padua. Distinct from the Veneti of Gaul, this Indo-European-speaking people inhabited the region around Venetia. They adopted many Etruscan artistic and technological innovations as well while maintaining their own distinctive alphabet and religious customs. Venetic bronze votive figurines and horse imagery are especially common, reflecting both trade contact and shared symbolic traditions with Etruria.

The paired horsehead motif was a powerful symbol across Italic and Celtic regions—representing nobility, fertility, and the divine twins associated with horses (akin to the Greek Dioscuri). It may represent aristocratic emphasis on charioteering or mounted warfare practiced by both Etruscans and their northern neighbors.

Some scholars interpret elaborate bronze pendants like this as pectoral ornaments or belt fittings, worn by high-status men or women during ceremonies. The combination of repoussé decoration and suspended elements may have been designed for visual and auditory impact during ritual dances or public appearances. In northern sanctuaries, such as those in the Po Valley, Etruscan bronze votive objects and inscriptions often appear alongside local artifacts.

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Signals, Colors, and Cuckolds: Reading Roman Comic Art

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I found another interesting theatrical scene found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii and reproduced by Henri Roux Ainé in a copper engraving and reproduced in Barré’s 1839 text. Barré interprets it as a comedic slave holding his left hand in a signal indicating a cuckolded husband. On the right we see an embarrassed young woman and an older woman that Barré describes as wearing a red headdress and all red clothing that would normally signal to the audience she was, "a mother of a courtesan or an old woman who traffics in the dishonor of young girls," what we would call in modern terms, a Madame, who secures men for young women working as prostitutes. However, she looks equally grief-stricken at the gesture indicating she is either a matronly companion or mother of the younger woman. Barré uses this image to decry "the comic theater of the ancients in terms of decency, nobility, and dignity."

A comedic scene in which a slave on the left flashes a hand signal meaning a cuckolded husband to a young woman on the right accompanied by an older matron. This is an 1839 print of a copper engraving by Henri Roux Ainé of a fresco found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii published in a book authored by Louis Barré.

 Barré’s interpretation of the matronly figure is really just based on her red attire. The girl is wearing nothing immodest and her attire is described as a blue undergarment with a white overgarment. I assume he identifies the slave because of the comic mask and the fact that he wears a short, striped yellow tunic and cloak.

 In Roman comedy, masks and short tunics in yellow, brown, and other “common” hues were associated with low status.  Maidens were often depicted in delicate colors such as white and blue which Barré tells us in his translated text is the case here. A lena or procuress was usually depicted as an older woman in gaudy or bright colors, sometimes red as in this case that is meant to signal vulgarity on stage. However, the facial expressions of both the younger woman and the matronly woman appear to be embarrassment and I don’t think that would be the case if the older woman was a procuress even though Barré’s interpretation was based upon known ancient theatrical costumes.

 Red and especially crimson was produced with a luxury dye, that under normal circumstances connoted wealth. However, it was also associated with sensuality and women of questionable reputation when used in theatrical or satirical contexts. Wall paintings often transposed these stage conventions, but with artistic license. The frescoes in domestic settings weren’t exact reproductions of stage costumes — instead, they gave viewers enough hints (mask, garment length, bright vs. modest colors) to trigger recognition of stock types.

While it’s true that red was a lena/procuress signal on stage, we can’t be sure the painter meant the matronly figure here to be read that way in a domestic setting where these scenes were often reproduced. Barré (and many 19th-century antiquarians) tended to project moral lessons, assuming that color always mapped one-to-one with “vice” or “virtue.” Modern scholarship treats such identifications with caution — the same color could signal different things depending on context. If you enjoyed this post, never miss out on future posts by following me by email!

Decoding a 2,000-Year-Old Theatrical Mystery from Herculaneum or Pompeii

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I was searching through an 1839 publication of frescos found in Pompeii and Herculaneum and came upon this print made from copper engravings produced by 19th century artist Henri Roux the Elder. I was impressed by the realism of their poignant facial expressions so I translated the related text by Louis Barré to try to gain more insight into the scene portrayed and the structure in which the scene was painted. Unfortunately, there was no clue provided as to where in Pompeii or Herculaneum this painting was found. I did a keyword search for the word "tragic" and found no indications this fresco was represented in the corpus of either pompeiiinpictures.com or herculaneuminpictures.com.

Print from a copper engraving by Henri Roux the Elder of a fresco found in either Herculaneum or Pompeii of characters in a tragic play included in an 1839 text by Louis Barré

Barré mentioned the scene could represent mourners in a funeral procession or the chorus of a tragic play. He then mentions some early 19th century scholars thought the figure on the left represented a hero with disheveled hair and the central figure could be Telemachus because his hands were covered by his draped cloak. Neither of these seemed plausible to me since all figures appeared to be female especially due to the length of their garments. I checked my memory with ClaudeAI:

"In both Greek and Roman theater and art, male characters - even when portraying tragic heroes or kings - typically wore shorter garments that fell somewhere between the knee and mid-calf. The chiton or tunic worn by men was distinctly shorter than women's clothing.

"The long, floor-length robes we see on all three figures here are characteristic of female dress. Women's clothing (the peplos, chiton, or stola) was designed to reach the ankles and often had the elaborate draping we see in this fresco. Even high-status male characters like kings would not typically be depicted in such long, flowing garments."

I also pointed out the center figure appears to be wearing a sakkos, a common head covering for women in ancient Greek and Roman art - a soft cap or hood that covered the hair and often tied under the chin or at the back of the neck.

ClaudeAI agreed saying: "The way the fabric drapes around the center figure's head and face, creating that enveloping hood-like effect, is very characteristic of how the sakkos was typically depicted in ancient art. This head covering was particularly associated with older women, married women, and those in domestic or religious roles - exactly the kind of character you've identified as the nurse figure.

"This detail further supports your interpretation of this figure as the nurse or old woman character type from tragic drama. The sakkos would have been an immediately recognizable visual cue to ancient audiences about this character's identity and function in the scene - the wise, older female attendant or confidante to the tragic heroine.

"It's exactly the kind of costume detail that ancient artists used to help viewers instantly "read" the dramatic roles and relationships in a scene.

"This costume evidence strongly supports your reading of these as female figures - the tragic queen/princess (Jocasta), the old woman/nurse, and the female servant or attendant. Male servants or messengers in tragic drama would also have worn shorter garments.

"The only exception might have been certain priests or very elderly, venerable male characters who sometimes wore longer robes, but the body language, facial features, and overall presentation of these figures all suggest women rather than men."

I had read old nurses were a common character in Greco-Roman plays. I also thought the larger size of the character on the left could indicate a person of higher status such as a queen or princess. The smaller figure to the far right was probably a royal attendant.

I checked my theory with ClaudeAI and it said my interpretation sounded very compelling and aligned well with the conventions of ancient tragic theater.

"The old woman (or nurse) was indeed a standard character type in tragic drama, often serving as a confidante, messenger, or voice of wisdom. These characters frequently wore distinctive masks and would be positioned as intermediaries between the main tragic figures and the chorus or audience. The central figure's posture and drapery do suggest an older, more matronly character."

Your reading of the left figure as a tragic heroine makes perfect sense - the dramatic pose, flowing hair, and larger scale would be typical of a principal tragic character. The disheveled hair that the original text mentions could indicate she's in the midst of her tragic crisis - perhaps like Medea in her fury, Cassandra in prophetic madness, or Electra in grief.

The third figure as a mourning servant or attendant is a perceptive observation. The smaller scale and more subdued posture would fit a supporting character, and servants/attendants were common in tragic plays to witness and respond to the main characters' suffering. The positioning suggests deference to the heroic figure.

This grouping - tragic heroine, wise old woman/nurse, and faithful servant - would represent a classic tragic tableau, showing the heroine surrounded by the typical supporting figures who would help drive the narrative forward through their reactions, advice, and lamentations. The hierarchical sizing emphasizes the dramatic importance of each role."

I then expressed my opinion that the tableau could represent Oedipus' mother learning her husband/son's true identity and asked if the Oedipus play was popular during the 1st century CE.

"The Oedipus story, particularly focusing on Jocasta's discovery of the horrific truth, would make perfect sense for this tableau. The tragic heroine (Jocasta) realizing she has married her own son, with the old woman/nurse who might have been present at Oedipus's birth and abandonment, and a faithful servant witnessing the royal family's destruction - this would be an intensely dramatic moment perfectly suited to tragic theater.

"Regarding the play's popularity in the 1st century CE - absolutely! The Oedipus story remained one of the most performed and referenced tragedies throughout the Roman period. While Sophocles' original "Oedipus Rex" was from the 5th century BCE, Roman playwrights like Seneca wrote their own versions (Seneca's "Oedipus" dates to around 40-65 CE, right in line with your Herculaneum [or Pompeii] fresco's dating).

"Roman audiences were particularly drawn to the psychological horror and family dysfunction elements of the story. The theme of fate versus free will, the investigation/detective elements, and the spectacular tragic reversal made it enduringly popular. Roman tragic actors were known for their intense, emotional performances of such scenes.

"The moment of Jocasta's realization - that moment of anagnorisis or recognition - would have been one of the most powerful and memorable scenes in ancient theater, making it a natural choice for artistic representation."

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Dense Worlds, Fragile Lives: Comparing Population, Diet, and Disease in the Maya Lowlands versus the Roman Heartland

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

This morning I was astounded when I read this news release by Archaeology Magazine saying new LiDAR studies reveal an estimated 16 million Maya may have occupied 36,700 square miles of the Maya Lowlands—an area that comprises parts of Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize—during the Late Classic period (600–900 CE).

https://archaeology.org/news/2025/08/11/new-research-suggests-maya-population-may-have-topped-16-million/

In my paper, "Blood and Ash: Human sacrifice as a response to ecological catastrophe in the ancient Americas" I had compared juvenile mortality of Rome and the Maya then discussed sanitation issues and water management strategies of the two cultures to account for the difference between Rome's juvenile mortality of 30-35% and the Maya's at 35-50%. But, I did not explore differences in population density.

The central plaza of Teotihuacan on the left and Pompeii's forum on the right.
Extreme Densities, Different Worlds

Teotihuacan image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor MikHeil. Pompeii forum image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Commonists.

So, I asked ChatGPT to calculate the population density of 36,700 square miles of the Roman Empire using the city of Rome as the center. It found the Maya may have supported roughly six times the population of the Roman heartland—approximately 16 million versus 2.5 million. Despite Roman juvenile mortality being roughly 15% lower, the Maya’s ability to maintain relatively low mortality is remarkable given their extreme population density.

With ChatGPT's help I revisited the differences in juvenile mortality as revealed in indicators such as differences in trade networks, presence of epidemic pathogens and agricultural practices and diet:

Comparative Schematic: Maya Lowlands vs. Roman Heartland (~36,700 sq miles)

Feature	Maya Lowlands	Roman Heartland (~108 mi radius around Rome)	Notes / Impact
Population	~16,000,000	~2,500,000	Maya ~6× higher within same area
Population Density	~436 people/sq mile	~68 people/sq mile	Reflects intensive local agriculture + settlement clustering vs. more extensive Roman land use
Agricultural Productivity / Diet	Intensive maize-bean-squash polyculture; under ecological stress, supplemented with ramón nuts, cassava (manioc), Amaranthus cruentus (amaranth)	Extensive grain and pastoral farming; heavily reliant on imported wheat from Egypt, North Africa, and Sicily	Maya could sustain high density locally; Roman density dependent on long-distance supply chains; diet quality declined under droughts for Maya
Settlement Pattern	Core-periphery structure with dispersed compounds; elite separation	Urban centers (Rome) with dense insulae, surrounding villas and farmland	Stratification moderates mortality but doesn’t drive density
Sanitation / Water Management	Some elite cisterns with filtered water; generally minimal for non-elite populations	Aqueducts, sewers, public baths	Romans had systematic infrastructure reducing waterborne disease risk; Maya had localized mitigation but not widespread
Pathogen Exposure	Low; geographic isolation and limited trade networks minimized introduction of epidemic diseases	High; extensive long-distance trade (as far as China) introduced epidemic pathogens	Isolation helped Maya maintain dense populations with moderate mortality
Mortality (Juvenile/Infant)	35–50%	~30–35%	Despite lack of Roman-style infrastructure, isolation and localized water/nutrition strategies moderated mortality
Ecological Stress	Megadroughts, volcanic impact; diet deterioration under stress	Generally stable; some localized droughts or floods	Maya droughts periodically increased mortality and reduced diet quality

Despite comparable local population densities, the Maya Lowlands and the Roman heartland differed dramatically in both ecology and diet. Within a 36,700 sq mile area, the Maya may have supported roughly six times the population of the Roman heartland—approximately 16 million versus 2.5 million. This high Maya density was made possible by intensive agricultural practices, including terracing, raised fields, and maize-bean-squash polyculture, which produced a high-calorie, protein-adequate diet. In contrast, Roman populations relied heavily on cereal grains and, critically, on large-scale imports of wheat from Egypt, North Africa, and Sicily, leaving them vulnerable to supply disruptions.

Under ecological stress such as megadroughts or soil depletion, Maya diets deteriorated over time as they substituted drought-resistant but nutritionally inferior foods like ramón nuts, cassava (manioc), and Amaranthus cruentus (amaranth) for maize, resulting in lower protein intake, fewer essential amino acids, and reduced caloric density. 

Settlement patterns also played a role in moderating disease exposure: Maya cities featured core-periphery arrangements with dispersed residential compounds, while Roman urban centers had dense insulae and surrounding villas. 

Critically, the Maya were relatively isolated from Old World pathogens due to limited trade networks, whereas Rome’s far-reaching commerce—even extending as far as China—regularly introduced epidemic pathogens. 

Together, these factors help explain how the Maya sustained extreme local density with juvenile mortality estimated between 35–50%, only about 15% higher than the Roman heartland, despite lacking aqueducts and large-scale sanitation systems.

This comparison highlights how population density, trade networks, and ecological stress shaped ancient societies in ways that continue to inform our understanding of population resilience and vulnerability today

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Blood and Ash:Ecological Collapse and the Rise of Human Sacrifice in the Ancient Americas

by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I've just uploaded the final version of my paper: Blood and Ash:Ecological Collapse and the Rise of Human Sacrifice in the Ancient Americas. It has 127 illustrations and I have cited 431 sources. In it I compare the response to ecological catastrophes of cultures in ancient America with those of Late Antique Rome under the reign of Justinian. I also compare their different agricultural strategies, sanitation systems, treatment of refugee populations, and contributors to infant mortality.

AI-generated image of what an Aztec priest of Huitzilopochtli may have looked like to sacrificial victims being led to Templo Mayor in Tenochtitlan based on a mythological painting of the god. Produced with Adobe Firefly by the author.

You can read it here:

https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.15882288

Here's the abstract:

This multidisciplinary study investigates the rise of human sacrifice in ancient Mesoamerica as part of a broader transformation in cosmological ideology shaped by ecological upheaval and political centralization. Drawing on archaeological, iconographic, isotopic, and ethnohistorical evidence, the paper traces the intensification of ritual violence from the resettlement of Xitle eruption refugees in the southern Basin of Mexico to the aftermath of the Ilopango eruption (ca. 536 CE) and into the militarized expansions of the Late Postclassic period. Climate shocks, resource scarcity, and elite competition reconfigured religious worldviews and leadership strategies, fueling increasingly violent expressions of sacred power.

The analysis contrasts divergent responses to catastrophe: while Late Antique Roman authorities under Justinian issued edicts to stabilize trade, secure truces, and implement public health measures following the volcanic winter triggered by eruptions at Ilopango and Iceland, Mesoamerican elites reasserted sacred authority through spectacular displays of ritual violence, including heart extractions and elite burials accompanied by human attendants.

Drawing on data from sites including Chaco Canyon, Cahokia, Tula, and Tenochtitlan, the study explores how migration, drought, and collapsing trade networks catalyzed new warrior ideologies and sacrificial practices. Particular attention is given to the possibility that displaced elites from Mississippian centers contributed to the Mexica’s (Aztecs’) disciplined martial ethos via convergence zones such as Chicomoztoc. These systems fused divine kingship with ritualized violence, transforming sacrifice into a tool of ecological negotiation and political legitimation.

It argues that cycles of drought, migration, and trade collapse fostered militarized religious orders and predatory tribute systems, with ideological rigidity and elite self-preservation ultimately fracturing indigenous societies before Spanish contact.

Acknowledgment of AI Assistance

Portions of this paper were supported by AI tools: OpenAI's ChatGPT 4o assisted with trajectory refinement, prose editing, and reference formatting; Anthropic’s Claude 3.5 Sonnet contributed to argument structure; and DeepSeek-V3 aided in source identification and recommendations. All source analysis, interpretive framing, and final editorial decisions were made by the author. AI-generated images were created using Adobe Firefly (v1.0), based on prompts developed solely by the author and validated using archaeological and historical records.

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From Sacred to Strategic—How Constantine Repurposed Pagan Temple Wealth

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

I inadvertently began work on another article. I've been reading novels in the series The Sertorius Scrolls by Victor B Davis II and I've reached book 5, "Sulla's Fist", which is focused on The Social War between Rome and her Italian allies in the 1st century BCE. I knew Rome granted citizenship to almost everyone south of the Po river after this conflict but wondered why Rome was so fiercely against this request. I thought it might have to do with the grain dole and indirectly it did. Roman aristocrats insisted granting citizenship to its Italian allies would trigger a mass migration to Rome so they could qualify for the grain dole. In actuality though, this "fear" was a distraction from the real reason. The Roman elite in Rome did not want to dilute their power and influence by extending admittance to the Cursus Honorum to provincial elites.

Anyway, in the course of my research on the topic with ChatGPT I learned that the grain dole was later used by Constantine in the 4th century to divert power and resources away from Rome to his new capital at Constantinople along with his plunder of the treasures stored in pagan temples. Here's a sidebar that will be included in my new article. To illustrate it I created an image of a plundered statue being hauled into the Forum of Constantine while a Byzantine-era Roman soldier directs the delivery in Constantinople.

A statue plundered from a pagan temple is hauled into the Forum of Constantine under the watch of a Roman soldier in 4th-century Constantinople. Reused as political trophies, such statues symbolized the empire’s shift in power and illusion of faith—stripped of their sacred roles and repurposed to glorify the new "Christian" capital. Image produced with Adobe Firefly and Photoshop Generative Fill by the author.

I was able to develop the basic image with Adobe Firefly but ended up resorting to Photoshop's generative fill to improve the historical accuracy based on ChatGPT's analysis of the image. The AI pointed out the wagon driver's red tunic was too short for the 4th century, the Triumphal Arch too weathered, the statue needed restraints to hold it on the wagon, and I needed a porphyry column to represent Constantine's column in the center of the space.

I tried to make these corrections in the prompt but could not get the image to look appropriate. So, I opened the image in Photoshop and used its generative fill feature to change the length of the wagon driver's tunic, "repair" the entrance columns to the triumphal arch so it looked newer and remove trees that could be seen through the arch and place a red column in the center distance. I also had to remove some odd bits and create a second leg for the wagon driver. I had told the AI the wagon driver was wearing brown leather boots so I double checked that by the 4th century closed leather boots had come into use, especially in the east due to proximity to the eastern desert tribes.

Here is my sidebar article:

Constantine’s economic transformation of the empire relied not only on diverting grain and undermining the Roman aristocracy, but also on systematically extracting and repurposing the wealth of pagan temples. These institutions, often centuries old, held vast deposits of gold and silver, controlled extensive landholdings, and served as local financial centers in cities across the empire. By embracing Christianity, Constantine gained ideological cover to confiscate these assets—not as wanton destruction, but as a kind of moral purification. In practice, however, it was a calculated transfer of resources from traditional religious elites to the imperial court and church (Curran, 2000; MacMullen, 1984).

Rather than smashing pagan icons in a wave of destruction, Constantine reused them with deliberate symbolism. Throughout Constantinople, temples were quarried for building materials, and pagan statues were installed in prominent public spaces. The clearest example is the Forum of Constantine, completed around 330 CE. This ceremonial center was ringed with colossal statues taken from temples across the Mediterranean world—Athens, Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Baalbek (Elsner, 1998; Mango, 1990). These were not subtle appropriations: gods once venerated in their original sanctuaries now stood as decorative trophies in the emperor’s new city.

One striking example is the statue of Athena Promachos, likely brought from Athens or a provincial temple and installed in the Forum or palace precinct. Stripped of her sacred context, the goddess no longer symbolized civic protection, but imperial domination—her presence a demonstration that the old gods now served the emperor's aesthetic and ideological aims. According to Eusebius, Constantine's agents “collected innumerable works of art from every province” and displayed them in Constantinople not for worship, but to glorify the imperial city (Life of Constantine 3.54–55; Eusebius, trans. Cameron & Hall, 1999).

At the same time, the wealth hidden behind these statues—the temple treasuries—was funneled into building programs and Christian patronage. The Lateran Basilica in Rome, the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem were all funded, at least in part, by redirected temple resources (Rousseau, 2012; Curran, 2000). Some confiscated lands were redistributed to imperial loyalists, ensuring that Constantine’s economic restructuring also reshaped the political landscape (MacMullen, 1984).

What emerges is not a portrait of religious zealotry but of imperial opportunism. Constantine did not destroy paganism outright—he gutted its infrastructure and appropriated its symbols. The gods still stood, but now as mute witnesses to their own defeat.

Echoes in the Present

Constantine’s strategy of cloaking resource seizure and institutional overhaul in the language of moral renewal has not been lost to antiquity. Even in the 21st century, some political leaders now appear to be taking a page from his playbook—invoking divine sanction, cultural identity, or national morality to justify the extraction of wealth, the dismantling of established institutions, and the reallocation of symbolic capital. The result, now as then, is a recoding of power: not through open destruction, but through appropriation and recontextualization.

Bibliography

Curran, J. (2000). Pagan City and Christian Capital: Rome in the Fourth Century. Oxford University Press.

Elsner, J. (1998). Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph: The Art of the Roman Empire AD 100–450. Oxford University Press.

Eusebius of Caesarea. (1999). Life of Constantine (A. Cameron & S. G. Hall, Trans.). Oxford University Press. (Original work written ca. 337 CE)

MacMullen, R. (1984). Christianizing the Roman Empire (A.D. 100–400). Yale University Press.

Mango, C. (1990). Byzantium: The Empire of New Rome. Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Rousseau, P. (2012). The Early Christian Centuries. Longman.

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