In the second half of the ninth century BCE, the political landscape of the Near East was dominated by a single rising power: Assyria. Under kings such as Ashurnasirpal II (r. 883–859 BCE) and Shalmaneser III (r. 858–824 BCE), Assyria had re-established firm control over northern Mesopotamia. The lands east of the Euphrates were effectively under Assyrian authority, either as provinces or as closely supervised client states. From this secure base, Assyrian armies regularly crossed the Euphrates, campaigning across the Levant.

These western regions were politically fragmented. Instead of large territorial kingdoms, the landscape was dotted with small states: Neo-Hittite principalities such as Carchemish, Hamath, and Patina, alongside Aramaean kingdoms like Damascus and Bit-Agusi. Some resisted Assyrian expansion, others chose accommodation, many shifted between the two. Tributary relationships with Assyria became an increasingly common feature of the political order. It was within this environment that the small state of Bit-Gabbari, also known as Ya’diya, centred on the city of Samʾal (modern Zincirli in southern Turkey), emerged as a minor but interesting player.

Continue reading “Kilamuwa of Bit-Gabbari, the king who hired Assyria”

If you had travelled through northern Mesopotamia in the tenth century BCE, one thing would have stood out immediately: there was no central authority. The region was a political mosaic of small kingdoms, tribal confederations, and local strongmen controlling scattered territories along rivers and steppe margins. None was strong enough to dominate the others for long.

This fragmented landscape emerged in the aftermath of the Late Bronze Age collapse. Until the reign of Tiglath-Pileser I (r. 1114–1076 BCE), these lands had belonged to the Middle Assyrian kingdom. After his death, however, the structures that had once held northern Mesopotamia together gradually unraveled. Fortresses and farming settlements were abandoned, long-distance trade routes became less secure, and Aramaean tribal groups spread across much of the countryside.

In this environment, power rested largely on kinship and local loyalties. Instead of large territorial states, the region was dominated by smaller dynastic polities centred on ruling families and their followers. One of these was Bīt-Baḫiāni, an Aramaean kingdom along the Ḫābūr River whose capital was Guzana (modern Tell Halaf).

Continue reading “Bīt-Baḫiāni, the kingdom that thrived by aligning with Assyria”

Op donderdag 3 september verschijnt bij Uitgeverij Omniboek mijn nieuwe boek Een jaar in Babylon: portret van een eeuwenoude beschaving. Tijdens de presentatie van de zomeraanbieding op dinsdag 3 maart kreeg ik alvast de gelegenheid om iets over het boek te vertellen. Het gesprek vond plaats in de vorm van een Q&A. De uitgeverij had een aantal vragen voorbereid, die werden aangevuld met vragen van de verkopers die het boek straks bij de boekhandels onder de aandacht brengen.

Continue reading “Het verhaal achter mijn nieuwe boek ‘Een jaar in Babylon’”

In the spring of 894 BCE, the Assyrian king Adad-Nerari II (r. 911-891 BCE) marched west into the land of Hanigalbat (present-day Northeast Syria). City after city opened its gates. Rulers handed over tribute. Camps were pitched along the banks of the Ḫābūr River. The king crossed frontiers, entered capitals, and received chariots, horses, silver, and gold.

What is striking is not what happened, but what did not happen. There were no major sieges. No pitched battles. No dramatic massacres. Instead, the royal inscription (r. 97-119) presents a long procession of acknowledgments, negotiations, and submissions. For a tradition famous for celebrating violent conquest, this campaign reads almost like a diplomatic tour.

Why did so many rulers accept Assyrian authority without fighting? And what does this reveal about the nature of power in the early Neo-Assyrian period? To understand this unusual moment, we need to step back from the language of imperial inevitability and look at the political landscape through a slightly different lens: one inspired by International Relations (IR) theory.

Continue reading “The king goes on tour (894 BCE)”

At the start of this series, I asked a deceptively simple question: why did no balance of power emerge in the Iron Age Near East, even though so many strong states existed alongside Assyria? The Late Bronze Age had produced something resembling a diplomatic equilibrium among great powers. The Iron Age, by contrast, seems dominated by a single hegemon that faced rivals one after another, but never all at once.

Over the past installments, we have examined those rivals individually: Urartu, Babylonia, Elam, Phrygia, and Egypt. Each possessed the potential to restrain Assyrian expansion. Each came close, in its own way. None succeeded in producing a stable multipolar order. The answer lies not in the failure of any one state, but in the historical circumstances that defined the Iron Age system itself.

Continue reading “When balance failed (7): A world out of sync”

In the Late Bronze Age (1600-1200 BCE), Egypt had been the single most powerful actor in the Near East. Its wealth, manpower, and administrative reach made it a natural hegemon, and the famous Late Bronze Age balance of power can be read, at least in part, as a mechanism designed to prevent Egypt from expanding permanently beyond the Levant. Great powers such as Hatti, Mitanni, Babylonia, and Assyria negotiated, intermarried, and threatened one another in a system that implicitly acknowledged Egypt’s strength while limiting its freedom of action.

That system collapsed around 1200 BCE. Egypt survived, but it emerged diminished, inward-looking, and divided. When Assyria rose to dominance in the eighth century BCE, Egypt was no longer the stabilizing pole it had once been. Its eventual return to Near Eastern politics would come too late and under very different conditions.

Continue reading “When balance failed (6): Egypt and the return that came too late”

In the previous installments of this series, we examined rivals that clearly shaped Assyria’s rise: Urartu on Assyria’s northern frontier, Babylonia at its ideological and political core, and Elam as a persistent eastern menace. Phrygia is a more ambiguous case. It is rarely treated as a serious rival to Assyria, and even within this series its inclusion is not self-evident. I hesitated to include it.

And yet Phrygia deserves a place here precisely because of its ambiguity. It was an independent regional power that maintained diplomatic relations with Assyria without becoming a vassal. For a time, it shared a frontier with Assyria in the Taurus Mountains. Its rulers chose alliance rather than resistance. And it was the only Anatolian polity that came close to replacing the Hittite Empire. Its disappearance was not the result of Assyrian conquest, but of an external shock. Phrygia did not fail to balance Assyria. I t never had the time to become a balancer at all.

Continue reading “When balance failed (5): Phrygia, the rival that never materialized”

In the previous installments of this series, we saw how Urartu failed to restrain Assyria from the outside and how Babylonia — older, richer, and more prestigious — challenged it from within. In this episode, we turn eastward to a very different kind of rival. For over a century, Elam repeatedly intervened in Mesopotamian affairs, shaping the political order of the Near East. Yet unlike Assyria, it never sought to build an empire of its own.

In Mesopotamian sources, Elam often appears as a familiar villain: ruled by treacherous kings, threatening Mesopotamian kingdoms with sudden raids and inconvenient interventions. But this image obscures a deeper reality. Elam was not a marginal spoiler, but one of the oldest and most enduring great powers of the ancient Near East, with its own imperial traditions, strategic culture, and long experience in managing Mesopotamian politics. If Elam never produced balance, it was not because it lacked power. It was because it never sought hegemony — only security.

Continue reading “When balance failed (4): Elam and the politics of containment”

In the previous installments, we saw how the Late Bronze Age balance of power collapsed, and why Urartu — despite its proximity and military competence — could never become a true counterweight to Assyria. In this episode, we turn to a very different kind of rival. If Urartu threatened Assyria from the outside, Babylonia challenged it from within.

Babylonia was not a peripheral power. It was older than Assyria, culturally prestigious, economically vital, and ideologically indispensable. Its kingship carried a legitimacy Assyrian rulers could not simply override. Control of Babylon meant access to southern Mesopotamia’s wealth, but also submission to its religious and political traditions. For that reason, Babylonia would prove to be Assyria’s most formidable rival. Even, and especially, during periods when it was formally ruled by Assyrian kings.

Continue reading “When balance failed (3): Babylonia as the rival within”

In the previous installment of this series, we saw how the Late Bronze Age balance of power collapsed and why the Iron Age Near East proved unable to regenerate a comparable system of restraint. The central question was straightforward but unsettling: why did no new balance of power emerge in the eighth century BCE, even though Assyria faced multiple strong rivals?

Urartu is the obvious place to begin. Of all Assyria’s challengers, it was the most immediate, the most persistent, and — at moments — the most dangerous. Its armies operated close to the Assyrian heartland. Its kings openly challenged Assyrian claims to universal rule. And its rise coincided almost perfectly with Assyria’s renewed expansion in the ninth and early eighth centuries BCE.

And yet Urartu never became the nucleus of a counterbalancing system. It could hurt Assyria. It could destabilize Assyria’s periphery. But it could never replace Assyria, nor organize the wider Near Eastern world against it. The reasons lie not in a lack of ambition or competence, but in Urartu’s structural limits.

Continue reading “When balance failed (2): Urartu and the limits of reactive power”