What do all empires have in common




















She died in a place that was barely recognizable. Imagine you were lucky enough to have been born the son of an aristocrat in Provence around the year If you survived to the age of 60, your life at the end would not seem drastically different from what it was at the beginning.

Other than that, your life was pretty much the same. You still had your fancy villa with its bathhouse and library and comfortable furniture. You still wrote letters to your aristocratic friends and relatives in an educated Latin style so tortured that it was more of a status-signaling device than a means of communication. You still played politics in the nearest city, which was mostly as it was at the time of your birth: fewer people maybe, a local bishop with more influence, the buildings a bit more run down, but still recognizable.

Yet even in the most extreme cases of rapid transformation, like Britain, northern Gaul, and the Balkans, the day-to-day experience of living in a falling empire could be surprisingly banal. A crumbling bridge and road never got the necessary repairs, so a formerly prosperous town was cut off from the transport network. Without revenues, pay and supplies of grain and wine never arrived for the local soldiers, who decided they would no longer carry out patrols to protect against marauders.

That was when the banal might suddenly become much more serious: Without soldiers, a talented barbarian war leader on the other side of the frontier decided to try his hand at raiding formerly protected territory. After some successful pillaging, that barbarian came back the next time with an army.

The fall of an empire —the end of a polity, a socioeconomic order, a dominant culture, or the intertwined whole—looks more like a cascading series of minor, individually unimportant failures than a dramatic ending that appears out of the blue. Consider the city of Rome, no longer the capital as the empire wound down but still its symbolic heart. It suffered two dramatic sackings in the 5th century, the first at the hands of the Visigoths in , the second carried out by the Vandals in But neither of those famous plunderings did the city in.

What shrank Rome to a few tens of thousands by the middle of the 6th century was the end of the annona , the intricate state-subsidized grain shipments that brought food to the city from North Africa and Sicily. The megacity of Rome was an artificial creation of the Roman state and its Roman-style Ostrogothic successor. Rome faced sieges and a plague outbreak in the s and s, but Rome had dealt with sieges and plagues before.

What it could not survive was the cutting of its grain supply, and the end of the administrative apparatus that ensured its regular delivery. Those were small things, state-subsidized ships pulling up to docks built at state expense, sacks of grain hauled on squealing carts and distributed to the citizens, but an empire is an agglomeration of small things. One by one, the arrangements and norms that enabled those small things fell away; not all at once, not everywhere, but slowly and inexorably.

Incompetent rulers and psychopathic powers behind the throne did their part. Plagues appeared out of nowhere, killing millions. The climate slowly worsened, growing less stable and colder, with more frequent droughts and a less dependable growing season for key staple crops. The late Roman Empire faced enormous challenges, both natural and human-made. Yet every state and society faces serious challenges. The difference lies in whether the underlying structures are healthy enough to effectively respond to those challenges.

Successful states and societies are resilient when faced with serious challenges. Falling empires are not. The popular story version of this particular falling empire might focus on a twice-divorced serial philanderer and bullshit artist and make him the villain, rendering his downfall or ultimate triumph the climax of the narrative. Historians will look back at some enormous disaster, either ongoing now or in the decades or centuries to come, and say it was just icing on the cake.

The foundation had already been laid long before, in the text of legislation nobody bothered reading, in local elections nobody was following, in speeches nobody thought were important enough to comment on, in a thousand tiny disasters that amounted to a thousand little cuts on the body politic.

It took a long time, decades, for the true reality of the change to hit the Romans whose writings have survived. Aristocratic Roman officials in Italy maintained the same kind of bureaucratic structure their fathers and grandfathers had, writing the same kinds of administrative letters for Ostrogothic kings of Italy that they had for emperors beforehand. The pull of the past is strong.

The mental frameworks through which we understand the world are durable, far more than its actual fabric. The new falls into the old, square pegs into round holes no matter how poor the fit, simply because the round holes are what we have available. The nature of the problem and its scale are clear now, right now, on the cusp of the disaster.

Maybe those future historians will look back at this as a crisis weathered, an opportunity to fix what ails us before the tipping point has truly been reached. We can see those thousand cuts now, in all their varied depth and location. He has a PhD in history. Dan Spinelli. Monika Bauerlein. Noah Lanard. Trade suffered as well. Also weakening frontiers to many tribes attacked and soon they begain to lose soldiers.

After arriving back in the area of the seven hills, they disagreed about the hill upon which to build. Romulus and Remus are the mythological twin brothers who founded the city of Rome. Here is their story. Romulus and Remus were twin boys born to a princess named Rhea Silvia. Their father was the fierce Roman god of war, Mars. It is made up of several city-states or countries. It focuses on establishing law and order.

It is a small, independent city with many rulers. It is governed by a single, local ruler. Given a threshold military capability and size, an empire, then, is made great by its science, philosophy, and culture. An empire is a large polity which rules over territories outside of its original borders. It might be a state affecting imperial policies or a particular political structure. Empires are typically formed from diverse ethnic, national, cultural, and religious components.

A civilization is a complex culture in which large numbers of human beings share a number of common elements. Historians have identified the basic characteristics of civilizations. Six of the most important characteristics are: cities, government, religion, social structure, writing and art. The six characteristics of a civilization are government, social structure, region, culture, written language and cities.

Begin typing your search term above and press enter to search. Press ESC to cancel. Skip to content Home Philosophy What are the 7 characteristics of Empires? Ben Davis July 17, What are the 7 characteristics of Empires? Are Empires good or bad? And if they did — what happened to that confidence?

People in antiquity were certainly aware that civilisations could rise and fall. It is, in a sense, the great geopolitical theme of the Bible. In the Book of Daniel, the prophet dreams that he sees four beasts emerge in succession from a raging sea; and an angel explains to him that each beast represents a kingdom. Gold and purple, in the Bible, are cast as merely the winding-sheets of worldly greatness. The Greeks, too, with the example of the sack of Troy before them, were morbidly aware how impermanent greatness might be.

Herodotus, the first man to attempt a narrative of how and why empires succeed one another that did not look primarily to a god for its explanations, bookends his great history with telling passages on the precariousness of civilisations.

I will pay equal attention to both, for human beings and prosperity never endure side by side for long. Then, in the very last paragraph of his history, he provides what is, in essence, the first materialist theory as to why civilisations should succeed and fail. The Persians, having conquered a great empire, want to move from their harsh mountains to a richer land — but Cyrus, their king, forbids it. Implicit in his narrative, written at a time when Athens was at her peak of glory, is a warning: where other great powers have gone, the Athenians will surely follow.

The Romans signalled their arrival on the international stage by fighting three terrible wars with a rival west Mediterranean people: the Carthaginians. At the end of the third war, in BC, they succeeded in capturing Carthage, and levelling it to the ground. Nevertheless, it is said of the Roman general who torched Carthage that he wept as he watched her burn and quoted lines from Homer on the fall of Troy.

Then he turned to a Greek companion. There were many, as the Romans continued to expand their rule across the Mediterranean, who found themselves hoping that the presentiment was an accurate one. Rome was a brutal and domineering mistress, and the increasing number of much older civilisations under her sway unsurprisingly felt much resentment of her autocratic ways. Rome and her empire were engulfed by civil war. In one particular bloody campaign, it has been estimated, a quarter of all citizens of military age were fighting on one side or the other.

No wonder that, amid such slaughter, even the Romans dared to contemplate the end of their empire. But the Roman state did not die. In the event, the decades of civil war were brought to an end, and a new and universal era of peace was proclaimed. Virgil, perhaps because he had gazed into the abyss of civil war and understood what anarchy meant, proved a worthy laureate of the new age. All the world has been adorned by you as a pleasure garden.

In the event, the garden would turn to brambles and weeds. Intruders would smash down the fences. New tenants would carve up much of it between themselves. Yet the dream of Rome did not fade. Its potency was too strong for that. He was not the first barbarian to find in the memory of Rome — the splendour of its monuments, the vastness of its sway, the sheer conceit of its pretensions — the only conceivable model for an upwardly mobile king to ape.

Indeed, one could say that the whole history of the early-medieval west is understood best as a series of attempts by various warlords to square the grandeur of their Roman ambitions with the paucity of their resources. There was Charlemagne, who not only had himself crowned as emperor in Rome on Christmas Day AD, but plundered the city of pillars for his own capital back in Aachen. Then there was Otto I, the great warrior king of the Saxons, a hairy-chested lion of a man, who in was also crowned in Rome.

The line of emperors that he founded did not expire until , when the Holy Roman empire, as it had first become known in the 13th century, was terminated by Napoleon. Yet the joke was not quite fair.

There had been a time when it was all three.



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