THE BARCID EMPIRE? AN ECONOMIC, SOCIAL, AND POLITICAL STUDY OF IMPERIAL INTERACTIONS BETWEEN CARTHAGINIANS AND LOCALS IN SOUTHERN IBERIA By Joseph Kurz M.A. Brown University, 2010 A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Department of History at Brown University PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND MAY 2016 © Copyright 2016 by Joseph Kurz 1 This dissertation by Joseph James Kurz is accepted in its present form by the Department of History as satisfying the dissertation requirement for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Date John Bodel, Adviser Recommended to the Graduate Council Date Peter van Dommelen, Reader Date Graham Oliver, Reader Date Alicia Jiménez, Reader Approved by the Graduate Council Date Peter Weber, Dean of the Graduate School iii CURRICULUM VITAE Joseph Kurz was born in 1985 in Olympia, Washington. He graduated from the University of Washington in 2008 with a B.A. in History and a B.A. in Latin; he received his M.A. in History from Brown University in 2010. He taught Latin for Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth Summer Programs for the summers of 2011 to 2014, receiving the Sarah D. Barder Fellowship for Teaching Excellence for his 2013 course. Joseph has presented portions of his research at the 2014 UK Punic Network Graduate Workshop at Durham University and is scheduled to present another portion of this work at the 2016 Association of Ancient Historians Annual Conference in Tacoma Washington. iv DEDICATION To my ever kind mentor, Sandra Joshel, for those first jaunts into the world of the Romans… v ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This work would not have gotten far without a lot of help. I owe my first thanks to my committee members, starting with John Bodel, who supported the project from its inception and along each step of the way. Peter van Dommelen offered critical support in the earliest stages as well, continually challenging me to make more intelligent use of the material evidence. Alicia Jiménez has likewise taught me a great deal about archaeology, Numismatics, and Spanish scholarship on the topic. Finally Graham Oliver helped me reorganize the entire work, which enabled me to pursue the historical questions of interest much more clearly. I owe my committee as a whole many thanks for countless meetings and feedback on chapter drafts. I also want to thank Jaime Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez, Mireia López Bertran, Ignacio Grau Mira, Josephine Crawley Quinn, Antonio Sáez Romero, and Sandra Joshel for comments on individual chapters. Thank you to David Thomas, Carrie Cullen, Colleen Donahoe, and Amanda Lee Brogger for proofreading various portions of the work. Finally I owe many thanks to my partner Kristin Rizzo for her endless patience and encouragement day after day. vi TABLE OF CONTENTS Curriculum Vitae iv Dedication and Acknowledgments v Table of Contents vii List of Figures viii Introduction 1 Part 1: Historical Overview of Conquest and Geographic Area under Study 3 Part 2: Overview of Past Scholarship 5 Part 3: Critical Concepts, Definitions, and Theoretical Tools 10 Part 4: Chapter Overviews 32 Chapter 1: Polybius 10.36 and Representations of Imperial Relations 34 Part 1: Livy and Polybius as Sources for the Second Punic War in Iberia 35 Part 2: Polybius and Carthaginian Relations with Iberian Allies 38 Part 3: Book Six and Greek Opinions on Carthage’s Destruction 58 Part 4: Conclusions 62 Chapter 2: Economic Interactions 64 Previous Scholarship 66 Part 1: Imperial Exploitation and Maintenance 69 Part 2: Carthago Nova as Economic Hub of Empire 88 Part 3: Settlement Founding and Wall Building 98 Part 4: Exchange and Consumption 111 Part 5: Conclusions 128 Chapter 3: Empire as Cultural Interaction: Imperial Discourses 129 Part 1: Empire and Identities 131 Part 2: Melqart-Herakles and Cultic Networking 134 Part 3: Approaching Carthaginian Coinage 141 Part 4: Barcid Era Coinage 146 Part 5: Local Reactions 160 Part 6: Conclusions 173 Chapter 4: Coercion and Local Dispositions 176 Part 1: Historical Contexts of Interaction 180 Part 2: Coercive Capabilities 187 Part 3: Local Dispositions 205 Part 4: Conclusions 236 Conclusions 238 Bibliography 244 Figures 270 vii LIST OF FIGURES Introduction Fig. i.1 Overall Map of Sites Discussed Fig. i.2 Sites in Southwestern Iberia Fig. i.3 Sites in Southeastern Iberia Fig. i.4 Map of Second Punic War Fig. i.5 Finds of Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage Fig. i.6 Proposed Model for Colonial Interactions Chapter 2 Fig. 2.1 Approximation of The Carthaginian Presence via Numismatics and Literary Sources Fig. 2.2 Dispersion of Hispano-Carthaginian Coins Fig. 2.3 Dispersion of Carthaginian Black Glaze Ceramics in the Third Century Fig. 2.4 Mining Centers of Iberia Fig. 2.5 Roman Mining Settlements in the Region of the Rio Tinto River Fig. 2.6 Location of Corta del Lago in Río Tinto Fig. 2.7 Roman and Pre-Roman Mining Settlements in the Region of Cartagena Fig. 2.8 Settlements in Southeastern Iberia Fig. 2.9 Topography of Carthago Nova Fig. 2.10 Five Hills of Carthago Nova and Remains Pertaining to Barcid and Pre -Barcid Phases Fig. 2.11 Plan of eastern wall of Carthago Nova from Milagrosa Fig. 2.12 Beveled ashlars of Carthago Nova from Milagrosa Fig. 2. 13 Excavations in Carthago Nova pertaining to the Barcid Era Fig. 2.14 Amphorae of Late Third-Century from Plaza de San Ginés, Carthago Nova Fig. 2.15 Settlements in the Bay of Albufereta Fig. 2.16 Plan of Late Third-Century Walls at El Tossal de Manises Fig. 2.17 Eastern Gate of La Serreta Fig 2.18 Hypothetical Rendition of Eastern Gate of La Serreta Fig. 2.19 Plan of Excavation of Punic Sector of Western Wall, Sectors 1-5 Fig. 2.20 Virtual Reconstruction of Western Entry Ramp into Carteia Fig. 2.21 Beveled & Seamed Ashlars in Punic Wall of Carteia Fig. 2.22 Map of the Bay of Cádiz Today Fig. 2.23 Topography and Summary of Excavations in region of Castillo de Doña Blanca Fig. 2.24 Topography and Excavations of Castillo de Castillo de Doña Blanca Fig. 2.25 Seamed ashlars with light beveling at Castillo de Doña Blanca Fig. 2.26 Amphorae of Third-Century from Tossal de Manises Fig. 2.27 Location of Baria Fig. 2.28 Imported Amphorae of Late-Third Century from U.E. 40, Baria Fig. 2.29 Settlement and Production in the Bay of Cádiz from the Sixth through Third Centuries Fig. 2.30 Evolution of Productive System in the Bay of Cádiz from sixth through first centuries Fig. 2. 31 Stamped Amphorae from Torre Alta Fig. 2.32 Possible Locations of Carthaginian Camps Fig. 2.33 The “Towers of Hannibal” clustered northeast of the Genil River viii Chapter 3 Fig. 3.1 Iberian “Peoples” following the Literary Sources of the 6th and 5th centuries and third centuries respectively Fig. 3.2 Trajan’s Aureus with Hercules-Gaditanus on reverse Fig. 3.3 Minting Communities in Hispania Ulterior Fig. 3.4 Coins representing Melqart-Herakles wearing Lion Skins in Southern Iberia, Roman period Fig. 3.5 Melqart in Iberia Fig. 3.6 Known and likely tophet sites in Punic communities Fig. 3.7 Coins of Punic Sicily and Early Coinage of Gadir Fig. 3.8 Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage and other Diademed Males in the Western Mediterranean Fig. 3.9 Finds of Melqart and Prow Shekels, Villaronga Class II Fig. 3.10 Phoenician Coinage with Warships and Seahorses compared to HC coinage Fig. 3.11 Hispano-Carthaginian Silver Shekels with Herakles-Melqart and Elephant (V. Class III) Fig. 3.12 Finds of Hispano-Carthaginian Class III Coins Fig. 3.13 Barcid Era Coinage of Gadir and Seks compared to HC coinage Fig. 3.14 Coins of Arse and Castulo compared to HC coinage Fig. 3.15 Vase figurine of Herakles from Saguntum Chapter 4 Fig. 4.5 Material Culture Indicative of Punic Iberia Fig. 4.6 Interaction between Indigenous and Baria via Funerary Evidence Fig. 4.7 Incense Burners in the shape of female heads in the Mediterranean Fig. 4 8 Incense Burners in the shape of female heads in Iberia Fig. 4.9 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 94-98 Fig. 4.10 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 109-119 Fig. 4.11 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 144-178 Fig. 4.12 Visual Dominance of Carmo over Lower Guadalquivir Valley Fig. 4.13 Possible Locations of Soldier Colonies based on finds of “Libyphoenician” coin age Fig. 4.14 Possible Locations of Barcid Military Camps Fig. 4.15 Location of Vico and Montemolín Fig. 4.16 Funerary Stele of Marchena Fig. 4.17 Plan of Puente Tablas with zones of possible Punic occupation circled Fig. 4.18 Sector C of southern wall showing third-century wall over eroded fourth-century wall Fig. 4.19 Possible Locations of Towers and Forts in the Upper Gaudalquivir Valley Fig. 4.20 Main oppida in Contestania Fig. 4.21 Sites with finds of “Incense Burners” in the form of female heads Fig. 4.22 Location of Necropolis of Albufereta and Neighboring Settlements Fig. 4.23 Part of the “tomb of the warrior” from Tossal de les Basses Fig. 4.24 Incense Burners from Albufereta Tomb L 127A Fig. 4.25 Ceramic model of Cave Sanctuary from Albufereta L-127A Fig. 4.26 Female Bust, of Ibizan Provenance Fig. 4.27 Hispano-Carthaginian Bronzes (series V VIII) from Albufereta Necropolis Fig. 4.28 Llobregat’s Drawing of Altar for Incense Burner of Temple B of Illeta dels Banyets Fig. 4.29 Incense Burner Recovered from Temple B of Illeta dels Banyets Fig. 4.30 Plan of La Serreta; sanctuary marked as A, necropolis as D ix Fig. 4.31 Votives from Sanctuary of La Serreta, Juan i Moltó type IX Fig. 4.32 Select “Incense Burners,” Guardamar Type, from Sanctuary of La Serreta Fig. 4.33 Principle Settlements of Bastetania Fig. 4.34 Louis Siret’s Finds from the cistern and nearby construction on acropolis of Baria Fig. 4.35 Coinage of Baria Fig. 4.36 “The Lady of Galera,” Alabaster statue recovered from Tomb 20 of Tutugi Fig. 4.37 Plan for Necropolis of Tutugi Fig. 4.38 Plan of Tomb 20, Tútugi Fig. 4.39 Comparison with Chamber Tomb 223 from Baria Fig. 4.40 Excavations in Iliberri, modern Albaicín Fig. 4.41 Section of “Punic” Wall of Albaicín, from sector of Carmen de la Muralla Fig. 4.42 Honorary inscription for Vocania Avita’s gift to the Republic of Tagilit x INTRODUCTION In 237 BCE Hamilcar Barca arrived in Gadir (Roman Gades) with an army, intent upon expanding Carthaginian authority in Iberia. 1 Under the leadership of his family Carthaginian control would extend over much of southern Iberia throughout the Guadalquivir River Valley and eastern Iberia up to the Pyrenees mountains. Hardly 30 years later, Hamilcar’s youngest son Mago fled that same city where his father had started it all, escaping with an army in tatters and leaving Carthaginian territories in the victorious hands of Roman forces. This is a study of how Carthaginians expanded and maintained political control over territories in southern and southeastern Iberia under the leadership of the Barcid family, typically referred to in scholarship as the Barcid empire. Historians have traditionally been restricted by a small set of Greco-Roman literary sources that provide a skeletal narrative of uneven and scant detail. Knowledge of the political military narrative is particularly sparse until Hannibal’s three-year command began in 221, at which point Polybius and Livy provide relatively abundant detail about the capture of Saguntum and the Second Punic War in Iberia. Previous studies have been cursory in nature and shaped by the interests of Greco-Roman authors in the personalities and achievements of the Barcid generals. Yet this disproportionate focus on the big men of history ignores more fundamental questions about the impact and functioning of the Barcid empire. This work combines literary, numismatic, and archaeological evidence with theoretical approaches to improve the currently dim understanding about the workings of the Barcid empire and attempts to answer some basic questions about how the empire actually functioned 1 All dates referred to in this work are BCE unless otherwise noted. 1 and what it meant for the people who inhabited it. By what structures did Carthage ensure control? What were Carthaginians trying to control? What impact did this have on the Carthaginians themselves as well as on their subjects and allies in Iberia? For the inhabitants of this empire, was Carthaginian rule as burdensome as some of the Greco-Roman sources made it out to be? Was the experience of empire characterized by immense cultural difference between Carthaginian rulers and the subject “barbarians” depicted in Greco-Roman sources? These are the kinds of questions that drive this work, questions which have been answered only anecdotally in the past or not addressed at all. The remainder of this introduction begins with a brief narrative of the main military events of the Barcid conquest and the dissolution of the empire in the war with Rome that followed. I then provide a definition of the territory under direct Carthaginian control by the time Hannibal became general, which is the focus of this work. Thereafter follows an overview of past scholarship on the Barcid empire. The introduction concludes with discussion of the theoretical tools and assumptions that inform the analyses in this work as well as an overview of the arguments put forth in the proceeding chapters. 2 PART 1: HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF CONQUEST & GEOGRAPHIC DEFINITION OF AREA UNDER STUDY In 237 Hamilcar arrived in Iberia and over the next nine years brought local communities under Carthaginian authority, some by war and others by diplomacy. 2 He was initially resisted by indigenous coalitions in Turdetania, treating their defeated leaders with patently violent deaths but freeing other captives and enrolling some in his forces. One of Hamilcar’s early objectives would have been securing access to mines in the region of the Río Tinto. He founded a city Diodorus calls Akra Leuke, the location of which is unknown, though it was more likely somewhere in the Guadalquivir Valley or in the region of the Sierra Morena rather than on the eastern coast of Iberia in modern Alicante, as Diodorus never mentions Hamilcar campaigning so far east before his death in battle against the Orissi. His adopted son Hasdrubal succeeded him in command and took revenge on the Orissi, at this time bringing the mineral rich Sierra Morena firmly under Carthaginian control as well as expanding Carthaginian influence eastward to the southeastern coasts, probably as far as the Júcar River by the time of his own murder at the hands of a local. 3 Hasdrubal founded Carthago Nova and another city of unknown name and location. Hasdrubal negotiated an agreement with the Romans that Carthaginians would not cross the Ebro River in arms. Hasdrubal was succeeded by Hannibal in 221 who proceeded to subdue the Olcades and led a campaign in the following year across the Tagus River against the Vacceii. In 219 Hannibal frustrated Roman expectations and demands by attacking the city of Arse/Saguntum, capturing it after an eight-month siege and providing the Romans with grounds 2 Main sources for Hamilcar’s command: Polyb. 2.1; Diod. 25.10.1 -4, Liv. 21.2.1-2, Nep. Ham. 1.4, App. Iber. 5, App. Hann. 2.3-4. 3 Main sources for Hasdrubal’s command: Polyb. 2.13.1-3, 2.36.1-2, 3.8, 3.13.7, Diod. 25.11-12, Liv. 21.2.3- 7, App. Iber. 6. 3 to declare war on Carthage. 4 In the summer of the following year Hannibal departed Iberia with a large force to invade Italy, leaving it to his brother Hasdrubal to defend Carthaginian Iberia from Roman invasion. Hasdrubal suffered several major defeats at the hands of the Roman generals Publius and Gnaeus Scipio from 217 to 212, which allowed the Roman generals to slowly extend Roman influence south of the Ebro River and detach local communities from Carthaginian control. Yet in 211 Hasdrubal Barca turned Carthaginian fortunes around by destroying both Roman generals and their armies in turn, seemingly undoing years of Roman successes. Roman operations were soon taken up by another member of the Scipio family, who through a daring surprise attack captured the Carthaginian capital in southeastern Iberia in 209, securing Roman control of the region and critically depriving Carthage of its main strategic base, political hostages from local subjects, and mining revenue from the region. The fol lowing year the young Scipio defeated Hasdrubal Barca at the Baecula River but prevented Hasdrubal’s escape with reinforcements to join Hannibal. Scipio pressed further westward and defeated Hasdrubal Gisco in 206 at Ilipa, the last major battle for Iberia. After failing to capitalize on a local revolt in 205, Mago Barca departed from Iberia to join Hannibal. The sites studied are indicated on the following maps (figs. i.1-4). In terms of the area under Carthaginian control by the time Hannibal became commander, the best estimate comes from concentrations of Hispano-Carthaginian coinage and the evidence provided by the literary sources for Carthaginian operations. The western area includes from the Río Tinto valley in modern Huelva, though how far control extended inland or toward the Atlantic coasts of Portugal is uncertain; but the core would not have reached beyond the Guadiana River. Reports of Carthaginian armies wintering in Lusitania and the Atlantic coast during the Second Punic War 4 Main sources for Hannibal’s command: Polyb. 3.13-17, 20-35, Diod. 25.15, Liv. 21.5-23, Nep. Hann. 3, App. Iber. 8-14, App. Hann. 3-4. 4 suggest that Carthaginian control may have reached as far as the mouth of the Tagus to the west though if they did, they left few material traces. 5 Moving eastward the Carthaginians occupied the region between the southern coasts and the Guadalquivir River and the Sierra Morena to the north, perhaps as far as the Guadiana River, though numismatic finds are scarce north of the Guadalquivir River and few sites beyond its northern bank are considered in this work. Eastward the region of the Sierra de Segura and communities al ong the Segura River itself are included, along with coastal communities up to the Júcar River. The archaeologically visible core of the Barcid control rests within these bounds, though wider geopolitical control appears to have been exercised far more broadly, perhaps even beyond the Tagus River, judging by Hannibal´s final Iberian campaigns. PART 2: OVERVIEW OF PAST SCHOLARSHIP Scholarship of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was largely restricted to treatments of the political and military narratives based mainly on the literary works of Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Livy, Cornelius Nepos, and Appian, with some anecdotal supplements from a few later authors as well as topographical analyses. 6 Adolf Schulten was particularly influential in the study of the Carthaginians in Iberia, especially his synthesis of literary sources for the study of ancient Spain in general. 7 Yet Schulten’s work is also characteristic of the Romanticist views of the previous century of scholarship, which took Greco-Roman sources at their word and reproduced depictions of perfidious Carthaginians as greedy invaders and Iberians as brave 5 Hoyos 2003, 83–84; for Carthaginians wintering in Lusitania during 217 see Liv. 22.20.12, 21.5, for 210 - 209 see Polyb. 10.7.5. 6 Meltzer and Kahrstedt 1896, 392–439; Gsell 1913, 128–38; Schulten 1954. For register of supplemental literary sources see: Huss 1985, 269. 7 Schulten 1922. 5 and sometimes noble vassals of Carthage. 8 The same views also emphasized the dependence of Iberian society on Carthage for its cultural development. Another issue that may be attributed to Schulten was his insistence on Carthage’s prior conquest of the kingdom of Tartessos in the sixth century, based on extremely precarious hints from the literary sources. 9 A similar case was once made for Carthage’s prior control of Iberia, though perhaps not as early as the sixth century. 10 The most important literary sources are Polybius’ treaties between Carthage and Rome, Justin’s report about Carthaginian aid to Gadir against indigenous communities, and remarks by Polybius about Carthage having submitted much of Iberia by the time of the First Punic War and Hamilcar “restoring” Carthage’s possessions in Iberia. 11 Polybius’ treaties attest to Carthage’s prior commercial interests clearly enough but an actual territorial interest prior to the Barcid period and their extent have never been established. Also important for views of a pre-Barcid empire in Iberia were Carthage’s state-funded explorations led by Hanno and Himilco and remarks about Carthaginian trade interests and colonization in the west. 12 C. R. Whittaker toppled this view of a pre-Barcid imperial takeover, arguing instead that Carthaginian influence amounted to commercial dominance carefully administered by the state as well as the occasional recruitment of mercenaries.13 Whittaker’s emphasis on commercial interests has been accepted and further corroborated ever since, though with some dispute over the extent to which Phoenician allies 8 This vein is most obvious in his article on Carthaginian Spain for the CAH 1954. 9 Schulten 1924. 10 García y Bellido 1942b; de Frutos Reyes 1993; Koch 2000. 11 Polyb. 3.24; Just. Epit. 44.5; Polyb. 1.10.15, 2.1.5-7, 1. 12 A text of the periplus of Hanno is preserved: Schoff 1912; periplus of Himilco mentioned by Pliny NH 2.67 and Avineus Ora Maritima 416-31; trade interests:Hdt. 4.196, Pseudo Aristotle, De Mirabilia auscultationibus 136, Pseudo Scylax Periplus, Strabo 17.1.19; colonization: Pseudo Aristotle, De Mirabilia auscultationibus 84. 13 Garnsey and Whittaker 1978, 70–1. 6 maintained political independence.14 In this light, Polybius’ remark about restoring territory might reflect a loser commercial hegemony, though which Hamilcar may well have asserted the legitimacy of his conquest and Carthaginian interests in Iberia. Returning to the overall chronology, perhaps the most significant moment in Barcid scholarship was Antonio García y Bellido’s publication of Fenicios y Cartagineses en Occidente in 1942.15 García y Bellido utilized the available material evidence to study Carthaginian presences as well as offering the first corpus of Punic material culture overall in Iberia. His work also departed from essentialist views of Iberian and Carthaginian cultures. This inspired proceeding works of the 1950s through 1980s, emphasizing the importance of material culture and granting autonomy to material evidence instead of subordinating it to literary material.16 Villaronga accomplished important developments for numismatic works. Against earlier speculative attempts to equate Carthaginian coins with Barcid gene rals, Villaronga emphasized the importance of hoards and cultural contexts. 17 Villaronga’s work proved essential for providing a rough estimate of the Barcid presence in Iberia and understanding the course of the Second Punic War. 18 Related to the matter of identifying Barcid generals on coins is a larger argument, developed by Picard, that the Barcids established an independent kingdom in Iberia in order to launch a war of revenge against Rome. 19 The argument for an independent Barcid kingdom was based on some polemical traditions in the literary sources that report political 14 For Iberia see: González Wagner 1989; López Castro 1991, 77–9; Arteaga 1994; Ferrer Albelda 2002, 17; the question of local Punic communities and commercial relations is discussed in more detail in chapter two. 15 García y Bellido 1942b. 16 Blázquez Martínez 1961; Nordström 1961; Chic García 1978; Corzo Sánchez 1975; Blázquez and García - Gelabert 1987; P. Guérin 1989; González Wagner 1989; Scullard 1989. 17 Villaronga 1973; Villaronga 1983; against older views of: Beltrán Martínez 1949; Robins on 1956; Blázquez Martínez 1976. 18 Chaves Tristán 1990; García-Bellido 1993; Alfaro Asins 2000b. 19 Picard 1968, 202–229; first proposed by Gsell 1913, 128–29; opposed by Ehrenberg 1927, 31. 7 turmoil between the Barcids family and other leading men of the Carthaginian state. Such interpretations are no longer taken seriously by experts and the major issues with that tradition have been thoroughly critiqued and refuted. 20 Since the 1970s another important shift has been the increased attention on indigenous cultures in their own right. Against older studies that understood Iberians as products of Phoenicio-Punic and Greek culture, the work of Llobregat in Contestania is paradigmatic of the “indigenous turn” for southeastern Iberia.21 Examples could easily be multiplied and will be treated in the following chapter; though the breadth of such work cannot be adequately captured in this brief introduction, one work in particular requires mention. Ruiz and Molinos’ 1993 monograph, Los iberos: Análisis Arqueológico de un Proceso Histórico,was a crucial synthesis of work on indigenous settlements up to the early 1990s but also represents well the growing consensus among scholars about the importance of indigenous cultures. 22 For the study of the Barcids, various works in the 1990s and 2000s demonstrated the importance of the growing bodies of material evidence and some appreciation for the importance of local actors, both Iberian and Punic. The best demonstration of this turn and still of fundamental importance is López Castro’s treatment of the Barcids in his 1995 monograph on Punic Iberia, Hispania poena.23 Bendala Galán brought attention to the potential of new archaeological excavations carried out in Punic Gadir and Cartei a as well as Carthago Nova itself for appreciating the Barcid system of political and territorial control; these excavations are of 20 Recent critiques: Lancel 1995, 377–80; González Wagner 1999; Ferrer Albelda 2011b; see especially Dexter Hoyos’ thorough and persuasive deconstruction of the entire tradition: Hoyos 1994. 21 Llobregat Conesa 1972. See also the conference held in honor of this work’s 30th annivesary, with updates for the region: Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005; likewise for northwester Iberia: (Sanmartí Grego 2005. 22 Ruíz and Molinos 1993; see also the work just published by the same authors for Iberian culture in Jaén : Arturo and Manuel 2015. 23 López Castro 1995. 8 fundamental importance for this work. 24 Ferrer Albelda and González Wagner have likewise made important individual contributions to Barcid studies with an emphasis on more recent finds.25 Miles’ monograph on Carthage also makes use of recent material evidence. 26 Continued discoveries are beginning to renew interest in study of the Barcid empire and Second Punic War in Iberia, as evidence by some recent conferences and publications on the matter.27 Attention has been drawn to evidence for recruitment of mercenaries in the pre - Barcid period and updates on excavations from important sites like Carthago Nova. Yet besides this, treatments do not go beyond Bendala Galán´s previous overviews of strategic sites of possible Barcid construction. A recent collaborative project between the Andalusian Centre for Iberian Archaeology and the Research Support Programme of the University of Jaén analyzes battlefields related to the Second Punic War in Iberia, with emphasis on the famous battle of the Baecula River (208). 28 Victor Martínez Hahnmüller offers an important step forward with his detailed treatment of Punic Baria during the Second Punic War, assessing the social and economic impact of the Barcid presence on this Punic ally. 29 24 Bendala Galán 2000; Bendala Galán 2001; Bendala Galán 2003; 25 González Wagner 1999; Ferrer Albelda 2011b. 26 Miles 2011a. 27 Remedios, Prados, and Bermejo 2012; Bendala Galán 2013. 28 Preliminary finds: Ruiz Bellón et al. 2009; Bellón et al. 2016. 29 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012; the same author completed a dissertation on the Barcids in 2011, though it is unpublished. 9 PART 3: CRITICAL CONCEPTS, DEFINITIONS, AND THEORETICAL TOOLS ETHNICITY AND ETHNIC GROUPS Greco-Roman descriptions of foreign peoples indicate more about the authors’ self- definition than reliable information about the peoples represented. 30 Ethnic identity signifies membership within a group emphasized by ties of putative kinship and common beliefs about descent, which can be expressed through a number of shared traits such as places of habitation, language, and shared cultural norms and values. 31 Ethnic identities are formed and negotiated through discursive practices, which are notoriously difficult to pin down with material evidence.32 The group defines itself through characteristics that are socially determined and constructed within specific contexts, to which Polybius and Livy as outside observers, were not privy. Because ethnicity is “subjectively perceived,” 33 it is right to be skeptical about the ability of outside observers (the sources of Polybius and Livy) to relate reliable information about Punic and Iberian ethnic groups. Archaeological evidence provides its own interpretive challenges; the dubious attestations of ethnic groups in the literary sources ought not and cannot be confirmed or refuted by material culture. 34 So I adopt Josephine Quinn’s insight of focusing on identifications rather than on identity, what Quinn calls “deliberate, mindful references in the culture of one settlement to that of another or others.”35 Material and numismatic evidence is better able to reveal such identifications. In modern scholarly discourse there are essentially two uses of the term Iberian. The culturally significant usage envisions a group of communities ranging from the northwestern 30 For a good overview of these scholarly trends for peoples in Iberia see Ruiz and Molinos 1998, 1–13. 31 E.g., J. M. Hall 1997, 26–27; S. Jones 1997a, 13. 32 E.g., S. 1968- Jones 1997b; Díaz-Andreu 2005. 33 J. M. Hall 1997, 19. 34 For the hazards of attempting to detect such groups in material evidence based on literary attestations in Greek and Roman sources, see Morgan 1999, 143. 35 Quinn 2013, 28. 10 coasts as far as the Pyrenees and into the interior of the Ebro basin, down through the eastern and part of the southern coasts into the Upper Guadalquivir Valley.36 Communities within these regions share a common language. While scholars do not envision a unified Iberian people or ethnic group, some regional ethnic subgroups, whose names come from literary and numismatic sources, appear to have existed and have received attention in recent studies.37 The second meaning of Iberian is a totalizing term for all indigenous inhabitants of the Iberian Peninsula.38 As Domínguez Monedero observes, the real problem with this term is that it is purely external; it is not self-attested among the people that Greco-Roman authors label Iberian. So I use it with a strictly geographical meaning, mainly in order to distinguish local communities of autochthonous origins from those of Phoenician colonial origins. Yet even these distinctions can be misleading, as this work will demonstrate. It is fair to ask how many generations or centuries it takes for colonial communities to be thought of as autochthonous themselves. When discussing locals groups of non-colonial origin I use the term Iberian and at times I employ the term indigenous to refer to these same, autochthonous residents. These terms are problematic but there are few alternatives. Some sort of negative, such as locals of colonial origin, creates its own problems. The word native can have the same connotations as indigenous and to my mind its colonial overturns are potentially stronger than those of the word indigenous. I use the term Iberian interchangeably with the terms indigenous in order to distinguish communities of local origins from those of Phoenician colonial origins. Wherever possible, I attempt to avoid labelling communities or individuals with either ethnic label in favor of describing the cultural backgrounds associated with the items and practices under discussion. I use the word local to describe any inhabitants of the peninsula established before the Barcid era. 36 Domínguez Monedero 1983, 204–9; Gracia Alonso 2008; Ruiz and Molinos 1998. 37 E.g., see Uroz Saez 1983; Sanmartí Grego 2005 for the Liria group identified with the ancient coastal region of Edetania between the Júcar and Mijares rivers. 38 Domínguez Monedero 1983, 14–20. 11 In terms of the words Phoenician, Punic, and Carthaginian, Prag offers an exhaustive study of their use in Greek and Latin authors. 39 Discrepancy exists in the modern and ancient usage of the terms Punic and Carthaginian. To begin with Phoenician, a minimalist usage of Phoenician designates Levantine inhabitants before the significant phase of their diaspora in the eighth and seventh centuries up to the time of Alexander the Great. 40 Moscati represents the dominant convention among modern scholars, using the label Punic to denote those of Phoenician descent living in the western Mediterranean with the rise of Carthaginian hegemony in the sixth century. Moscati was well aware that this was an entirely modern and highly reductive distinction. An easier distinction is made between Punic and Carthaginian on the basis of ethnic and political identity respectively, with Carthaginian understood as those with civic ties in the Carthaginian state. When I employ the term Carthaginian, I intend citizens of the Carthaginian state with the assumption that they identified, to some extent, with the wider Punic cultural milieu of the Western Mediterranean.41 In turn by Punic, I designate individuals that identified with the broader cultural milieu within the “Punic World” sparked from Phoenician colonial communiti es of the Western Mediterranean. Despite a great deal of shared practices among these communities including in language, religion, and funerary culture, current scholarship questions more concrete understandings of Punic identity. 42 Prag, for example, has shown that individuals traditionally considered Punic, such as citizens from Carthage, did not employ the term Punic, or any comparably broad, ethnic label, but instead typically utilized their civic membership, in this 39 J. R. W. Prag 2006. 40 E.g., Homer Il. 6.288-95, Od. 13.271-86, Hdt. 3.107, 4.42, 4.44; Aubet 2001, 12. Though even this relatively straightforward labeling can be easily complicated, e.g., Moscati 1988a, 24–27. 41 For discussion of this term as an historical and archaeological category rather than ethnic and political one, see introduction of this work, which draws on van Dommelen, Gómez Bellard, and Docter 2008, 5. 42 Quinn and Vella 2014. 12 case, Carthaginian. 43 So Prag has posed a difficult but essential question: “What is the significance of a term that, on the existing evidence, is self-ascribed on a single occasion in pre- Augustan antiquity?”44 This work takes part in exploring this tension between the heterogeneity and cohesion of “Punic” institutions and materiality, while also recognizing and exploring local particularities. NUMISMATIC MATERIAL AND SIGNIFICANCE The output of Carthaginian coins during the Barcid era was large, using various rare metals; estimates suggest between 25 and 35 dies per year were used throughout our period. 45 This coinage was minted in Iberia under Carthaginian authority and is known as Hispano- Carthaginian coinage, while issues that arrived in Iberia from the mint of Carthage can be called Carthaginian civic coinage, and coins minted by local communities in Iberia may be considered local coinage.46 Finds indicate that the coinage was mainly lost and hoarded in southern Iberia and along the eastern coasts, providing a rough impression of its circulation (fig. i.5). Hispano- Carthaginian coinage was issued under the authority of the Barcid generals and for this reason is also referred to as Barcid coinage. 47 These coins were struck in vast quantities, first in silver and then in bronze too under Hannibal. 48 While some scholars have seen the images of the Barcid generals in these issues, most experts identify their obverse iconography as traditional Punic 43 Van Dommelen and Gómez Bellard 2008, 3–4. 44 J. R. W. Prag 2006, 30. 45 Villaronga 1981. 46 Alfaro Asins 1997, 51. 47 The standard work remains Villaronga 1973 with important revisions and overviews available in Villaronga 1983; Alfaro Asins 1993a; García -Bellido 1993; Alfaro Asins 1997. 48 Villaronga estimates the Barcids utilized roughly 370 dies between 237 to 218, and 207 dies for silvers of the Second Punic War alone Villaronga 1981, 144–47. While providing a good idea of the order of magnitude of Carthaginian minting, the actual accuracy of these estimates matters little for our purposes. A limited amount of gold coinage was also issued in Iberia: Robinson 1956 pp. 37 -38; for the small number of dies used for the two series of gold coins see Jenkins 1963 pp. 44 -46. 13 deities.49 Silver issues were minted primarily to pay soldiers serving Carthage.50 Yet the bronze divisions likely reflect the developing need for smaller units of exchange among local markets. 51 It is also probable that soldiers exchanged some of the silver coinage in local markets, a likely if unintended consequence of their state production.52 The eventual bronze issues may have been partly driven by growing demands among the users of the silver coinage for smaller units of exchange. The earliest Hispano-Carthaginian issues were minted at Gadir to judge from their exclusive appearance in that region, while more diffuse issues appear to have been minted later at Carthago Nova, reflecting the progress of Hamilcar (237-229) and Hasdrubal’s (229-221) campaigns from west to east.53 Minting for Carthage continued at Gadir and was also taken up at Arse/Saguntum, Ebusus and Castulo during the Second Punic War. 54 Spectrographic analysis of 74 silver coins has shown that Hispano-Carthaginian coins were minted by allied mints, with variations in their trace metals conforming to patterns in local coinages. For example, Hispano- Carthaginian coins minted by Gadir contain a small but distinct measure of copper in place of the lead in other coins, a feature visible in the local coinage of Gadir. This might indicate a degree of autonomy in allied minting for Carthage.55 While Hispano-Carthaginian coinage 49 First developed by Beltrán Martínez 1949 and proliferated by Robinson in Carson and Sutherland 1956, elaborated via artistic comparisons to the Volubulis bust by Picard 1961; more recently: Blázquez Martínez 1976 and García-Bellido in Remedios, Prados, and Bermejo 2012. The inconsistencies of this interpretation have been attacked variously by: Villaronga 1973, 47–56; Acquaro 1983; Hoyos 1994; López Castro 1995, 81–4; Blázquez Martínez, Alvar Ezquerra, and González Wagner 1999, 284–6; Ferrer Albelda 2011b, 311–3; most recent summary of views and deconstruction of the “Barcid Portrait” school: Martínez Chico 2014, 36–8. 50 Alfaro Asins 2000b, 123. 51 Villaronga 1981, 124 & 139; Alfaro Asins 2000b, 123. Smaller scale state transactions, such as administrative transactions, should also be kept in mind (García-Bellido 1993, 323). 52 Howgego 1990. 53 Villaronga 1973, 73–93; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 31. 54 López Castro 1995, 84–87. 55 Sejas del Piñal 1993. 14 minted by allies was at the disposal of the Carthaginian state, favored allies were permitted to mint their own civic coinages as well. 56 I understand the primary function of silver coinage to be for state payments and in the case of the Barcid empire, the payment of soldiers.57 In terms of the bronze coinage that began to be minted by the command of Hannibal, I follow the common opinion among Spanish numismatists that these coins were intended for smaller scale transactions and daily needs of users.58 Nevertheless, the imager of coins can also be of political and cultural significance and the fact that coins functioned primarily as units of monetary exchange does not detract from their ideological value. The effort that both Carthaginians and Romans invested in striking over their enemies’ coins during the Punic Wars suggests that they took the symbolic power of coinage seriously, as did Carthaginian minting authorities that struck over the coins issued by the Libyan rebels.59 Rival coins could be perceived as a threat because their images were intended to persuade users to acknowledge the authority of the issuer. 60 This demonstrates that coinage could at least be politically charged in terms of reflecting the power of the issuing authority, but coins were also used to communicate messages to users. The complex designs and legends of the late-Republican and early imperial coinage of Rome led Crawford to question not whether the coins were intended to convey messages but 56 For civic minting as a sign of autonomy see Howgego 1995, 39–43. 57 Howgego represents this communis opinio well without denying the potential for secondary interests and unintended consequences: Howgego 1990; for a nuanced take on this view, Seaford argues that initial intentions are unrecoverable but the importance for state payments (and maybe trade too) quickly caught on: Seaford 2004, 134–6. 58 Lengthier discussion of the economic function of coinage appears in chapter two, on the Barcid economy. 59 Restriking during Punic Wars: Visonà 2009, 178; note that the Libyan rebels likewise minted over Carthaginian coins to strike their revolt coinage Yarrow 2013, 361; general motives for state minting: Howgego 1990, 20–21. 60 Wallace-Hadrill 1986. 15 rather if those messages would have been understood by anyone beyond Roman elites.61 These arguments hardly apply to the simpler and more stable motifs of Carthaginian coinage, which depicted a restricted amount of divine imagery with only sporadic adjustments. 62 Wallace- Hadrill and Noreña argue, among others, that coins utilize images that are expected to command respect among users. 63 Coinage achieves this by employing imagery that reflects shared values of its users. 64 For Siculo-Punic coinage Prag observes “the interactions implicit in the assumption of a common language of political self-presentation.”65 As I shall show in chapter three, minting authorities used Hispano-Carthaginian coinage to utilize images of Melqart- Herakles because of the expectation of shared significance between Carthaginians and local users in Iberia, which likewise interaction through shared cult to the deity. Yarrow offers further perspective on the social function of coins by considering their creation and dissemination as memetic acts. In her study of Melqart-Herakles coinage in Sicily and North Africa, Yarrow explores how the reproduction and use of images “disseminates meaning, allowing its semantic field to shift and broaden.” 66 The same holds true in Barcid contexts. The images of Melqart-Herakles in Iberia could follow a new logic from previous deployments by Carthage and other states, for instance by evoking traditions about Herakles’ adventures in Iberia. Yarrow interprets the creation and reception of numismatic imagery as reflective of socio-political phenomena implicit in such iterations. In this way Carthaginian coinage also aimed to persuade inhabitants to cooperate with Carthage or at least accept its 61 Crawford 1983. 62 Frey-Kupper 2014. 63 Wallace-Hadrill 1986, 67, 84; Noreña 2012 pp. 11-12; see also: Levick 1999; and Howgego 1995, 62–87. 64 Noreña 2012. 65 Prag 2010, p. 5. 66 Yarrow 2013, 348. 16 presence.67 The varied responses that Carthaginian coinage evoked from local communities reflects the cultic milieu with which Carthaginians were attempting to engage. I now conclude with a discussion about a concern that is at the heart of this work: the relationship between shared cultural milieus and imperial domination. Put simply, what difference did the social and cultural fabric of Iberia make in terms of the Barcid conquest? Ho w important were centuries of prior interaction between Carthaginians and locals, or similarities in world views? EMPIRE AND CULTURAL AFFINITY; CONSUMPTION & BOURDIEU Shared practices enable the operation and legitimation of empire. I first demonstrate this by way of examples from the Roman Empire. Then I offer a descriptive model that plots cultural affinity against coercive dynamics, with some inspiration from Chris Gosden. 68 There are two primary analytical tools that enable this descriptive model and analysis of evidence. The first is Thomas’ concept of entanglement, which helps me to analyze consumptive practices in order to assess the intensity of local interaction with the cultural milieu of Carthaginians. The second comes from aspects of Pierre Bourdieu’s concepts of fields and habitus, including his notions of habitus and cultural capital, which are especially revealing with regard to power dynamics. I begin with a brief definition of the terms I am using. For the sake of maintaining consistency it is useful to offer a brief discussion of how I understand imperialism, empire, colonization, colonialism, and culture. The term imperialism reflects attitudes within a society toward empire building, often taking the form of a discursive and self-legitimating ideology of expansionary domination. The lack of written evidence makes it 67 Quinn 2013, 28. 68 Gosden 2004. 17 very difficult to know how the Carthaginians ideologically regarded their empire, but that question is beyond the scope of this work. Empire can be understood as a society’s p olitical control over a territory of exogenous communities mostly without their consent. 69 In terms of the relationship between empire and colonialism, I differ from those who see colonialism as a specific form of empire, a form defined by its use of coloni zation to control foreign territories. I favor instead postcolonial theorists who see it the other way around, with empire as a form of colonialism.70 This results in my using the term imperial somewhat interchangeably with the word colonial. This is consistent with the definition of colonialism to which I subscribe. I adopt Michael Dietler’s practical definition of colonialism: “projects and practices of control marshaled in interactions between societies linked in asymmetrical relations of power and the processes of social and cultural transformation resulting from those practices.” 71 I understand colonization in more straightforward terms, as the act of founding settlements in foreign territories, while subscribing to broader understandings of colonialism that emphasizes practices and processes of domination. Provided that some degree of cultural difference and power disparity is involved, colonialism can exist without colonies.72 With these terms in mind and especially this flexible understanding of colonialism, the phrase “Barcid Empire” appears increasingly misleading, precisely because the term assumes a uniformity of experience and dynamics that simple does not capture historical reality. Mattingly likewise critiques an essentialist understanding of “Roman Imperialism,” in favor of the Roman empire as a more fluid and dynamic entity. Postcolonial approaches offer the same for the Barcid empire by 69 Here I adapt David Mattingly’s straightforward definition: “rule over very wide territories and many peoples largely without their consent,” Mattingly 2011, 6. Other similar definitions: Doyle 1986, 45; Bang and Bayly 2011, 1–14. 70 Van Dommelen 1998, 16; Dietler 2010, 18. 71 Dietler 2010, 18; cf. van Dommelen 1998, 16; Hodos 2006, 14. 72 Gosden 2004, 3; van Dommelen 1998, 16. 18 emphasizing the range of colonial situations that existed within the territory broadly under Carthage’s imperial control. Finally, in terms of culture, for which definitions are notoriously problematic, I understand culture as a fuzzy set of a basic assumptions, values, practices, and behavioral conventions shared by a group of people and influencing their dispositions toward the practices of others.73 Against more outdated understandings that saw culture as static, inherited markers of “cultural groups”, I emphasize practice and disposition because people are what they do, which can always be in some degree of flux. 74 This offers a better appreciation of individual agency and the fluid nature of cultural exchange. Postcolonial theory is especially useful for this study because of its insistence on the significance of local actors as well as the importance of power dynamics and cultural interactions in shaping colonial situations. 75 These factors reveal how the global or imperial interacts with the local or subject, reflecting how empire was experienced by those who inhabited it. Local people and their dispositions toward those who sought to control them determined how imperial agents could interact with locals in order to access, influence, and control the networks of power through which imperial control could be realized and sustained. 76 Such interactions are what knit empires together, as Gosden demonstrates. Gosden considers colonial relationships along a spectrum defined by the extent to which power disparities and violence characterize the colonial situation. His model establishes three different modalities for colonial experiences, ranging from the most restrained to the extremely 73 Inspiration drawn from: Spencer-Oatey 2008, 3. 74 Tronchetti and van Dommelen 2005, 193; Dietler 2010, 59; Hodder 2011b, 167–8; Hodder 2011a, 168; Aranegui Gascó and Vi ves-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 243. 75 Van Dommelen and Rowlands 2012, 224; Vives -Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 301; Van Dommelen 2002, 141. 76 Mattingly 2011, 7. 19 violent and exploitative, which he characterize as colonialism within a shared cultural milieu, the middle ground, and terra nullius. Gosden admits that these concepts are essentially descriptive and require further theoretical tools to discern exactly what sort of colonialism may be at work on the ground. In colonialism within a shared cultural milieu, shared cultural values facilitate colonial control and furnish familiar and understood norms of behavior in which power operates. Barcid appeals to worshippers of Melqart should be understood in this way. Gosden adopts Richard White’s middle ground as his second model, which is characterized by less cultural similarity but attempts toward accommodation, resulting in creative misunderstandings that lead to new meanings and practices. Likewise critical is the i nability of one party to dominate the other, and so the need to attempt to understand one another.77 Middle ground processes may have occurred between Carthaginians and indigenous communities prior to the Barcid era. During that time Carthaginian desires for rare metals must have relied on trade and negotiation, probably to some extent on local terms, due to the limited military presence, if any, that Carthage exercised in Iberia. 78 The extreme pole of Gosden’s model, Terra nullius, operates within fixed categories of difference, and colonial ends are reached essentially through violence, bordering on the genocidal in the most extreme.79 The conditions of near power parity of the middle ground don’t fit our period well and terra nullius occurs mostly in pre-modern or modern scenarios.80 Gosden’s colonialism within a shared cultural milieu is the most useful for understanding some contexts within the Barcid empire.81 77 White 2011, xii, xxvi. 78 See chapter four for discussion of pre-Barcid interests, which were essentially restricted to securing trade, rare metals, and mercenaries. 79 Gosden 2004, 26. 80 Gosden’s application of the Middle Ground to the Roman Empire seems to either underestimate the coercive potential of Rome or to take some license in his reading of White’s explicit conditions for Middle Ground processes. 81 For discussion of the limited applicability of the Middle Ground, see Deloria 200 6. 20 In colonialism within a shared cultural milieu, colonial relations develop within a background of shared cultural values, providing understood norms of behavior through which power can operate. Gosden credits the success of Akkadian expansion to the fact that, “the Akkadians were able to unify the region into a political structure, because it was unified to start with through cultural means.”82 This does not deny the importance of Sargon’s conquests but emphasizes that after victory, Akkadian leaders were able to legitimate their rule by taking control of existing social networks via established norms of power, particularly divine kingship. Divine kingship was shared widely and an acknowledged “rule of the game,” providing an acceptable institution in which to concentrate power. These insights help explain the expansion of Roman power in Italy and Latium in particular, which Roman manpower and colonization alone cannot adequately explain. 83 A shared cultural milieu was critical for integrating Latin communities into the Roman state, among people who shared a common language, a sense of kinship through Latinus and Aeneas, and religious institutions, such as worship of Jupiter Latiaris and the feriae Latinae. Social bonds were fostered through trade and intermarriage, which were formalized as the rights of commercium and connubium. In short, the preexistence of a linguistic, cultural, and religious community formed the social bedrock that supported Roman dominance over its Latin neighbors. Dynamics of similarity and previous interaction likewise supported Roman expansion in Italy, though with less common ground in play than in Latium. This applies well for understanding Carthage’s expansion over Iberian communities of Phoenician origin. The communis opinio on Carthage’s pre-Barcid interests in Iberia is that Carthage had some degree of commercial and political hegemony over Punic and some indigenous 82 Gosden 2004, 53. 83 For a classic example of this, after a fashion, consider: Badian 1958. 21 communities in Iberia. The rise of Carthaginian dominance occurred in the wake of the ‘sixth century crisis,’ where Tyre’s control over its Phoenician colonies in the west fractured and Carthage filled the power void. Evidence of this has been seen in western Phoenician colonies’ adoption of Carthaginian funerary practices and material culture. Also key is Polybius’ account of Rome’s second treaty (348 BCE) with Carthage, which prohibits Romans from trading in southern Iberia, reflecting Carthaginian commercial monopolies. The consensus view would thus suggest that Punic communities in Iberia experienced some degree of colonialism within a shared cultural milieu for centuries. Yet the picture becomes more complex because many “indigenous” communities had interacted with communities of Phoenician origin and Carthaginians for generations. Prior interactions paved the way for imperial interactions during the Barcid era, in which power dynamics shifted sharply in Carthaginian favor. Gosden’s model is too rigid to capture the array of contexts at work here; even though he admits that all three scenarios can occur within a larger colonial context, the model still risks reducing an array of complex situations under three rather specific typologies. 84 Building off Gosden’s work, I propose a broader and more flexible model. My model for colonial situations plots cultural affinity against coercive dynamics (fig. i.6). By coercive dynamics I mean both asymmetries in actors’ recourse to physical force as well as the willingness to use that force and to commit acts of violence. The acknowledgment of violence is important because it is the means by which such power disparities are made explicit and because it demonstrates the character of the colonial encounter. In terms of power dynamics, I also understand the extent to which force is applied for exploitive ends. Cultural affinity may be the more controversial concept. Current discussions about the nature of Punic 84 Gosden 2004, 25; van Dommelen and Rowlands 2012, 224. 22 identity and if it even existed is a case in point. I understand cultural affinity in terms of shared practices and interaction. For communities commonly designated as Punic this includes common cultural elements including language, deities, funerary customs, and social institutions. Yet other points of diversity in practices easily complicate this apparent homogeneity. For instance, Carthaginian use of tophets is a clear point of distinction from practices among Punic communities in Iberia and demonstrates a point of affinity that linked Carthaginian practices a little more closely to those of Punic communities in the Central Medi terranean. What results is a rather holistic and relational spectrum, which proves helpful as a descriptive device. I have inserted some better understood examples by way of “calibration.” Note that I have plotted a new world example that fits the terra nullius model on the upper right of graph. Instances of Roman expansion can be plotted differently, reflecting how imperial strategies changed over time and with historical context. The cultural disposition of Rome as well as its relative strength toward those it sought to dominate appears to have affected the character of expansion. Consider Roman expansion in Britain. Gosden argues that the way for conquest in southern Britain was paved by 150 years of commerce and cultural interaction that preceded the Roman invasion.85 Numismatic evidence reveals how elites in the south of Britain from the time of Julius Caesar learned from returning hostages about Roman political forms and adapted them to bolster their kingdoms. 86 These political engagements were paralleled by consumption of Roman material culture. 87 British kings selectively used Roman cultural forms for their own ends but their actions also enabled Rome’s initial foothold in the southeast during Claudius’ invasion in 43. 88 While Gosden characterizes these as middle ground encounters, this 85 Gosden 2004, 107–10. 86 Creighton 2000. 87 Mattingly 2011, 86; Gosden 2004, 109. 88 Gosden 2004, 110. 23 may be too restrictive. The case of southern Britain’s integration into the empire fits more comfortably in my model, which also accounts better for other instances of Rome’s expansion into Britain, in which previous interactions were less intense and Roman recourse to violence was more severe, such as the revolts of the 60s and the massacre of the Druids in northwestern Wales in 60 CE.89 In terms of Barcid contexts, it is reasonable to assume a relatively high degree of cultural affinity between Carthaginians and their Punic allies, who shared common cultural elements including language, pantheon, and diasporic origins. For some cities such as Baria and Ebusus, for which there is significant evidence of sustained interaction with Carthage and possible colonial status or perhaps Carthaginian immigrants, they might fall somewhere closer than other Punic communities in Iberia. I use this model draw attention to the heterogeneity of cultural practices among inhabitants of Iberia and the variety of colonial encounters that existed within the Barcid empire. The model requires a few qualifications. First, violence or at least the threat of violence is taken for granted. Second, I am not insisting on a linear relationship between cultural affinities and power disparities in any given colonial encounter. Yet where understood norms of power and social bonds are lacking, it is more likely that open force will be necessary to compel and maintain obedience, while where common ground abounds, there is more potential for negotiation and the legitimation of new status quos in addition beyond recourse to naked force. Third, I understand empires as dynamic and fluid, so the model actually works better if different instances of imperial actions are compared with each other. Plotting Rome’s different treatments of various Italian communities through its conquest of Italy could make for a 89 Tac. Ann. 14.30. 24 revealing comparison. Finally, this model is merely schematic. It cannot determine where to plot instances of Roman expansion; that depends on one’s own interpretation of available evidence. Analysis of the material evidence requires explicit theoretical tools. Consumption is a useful analytical lens for exploring local practices and interactions in situations of colonial contact. 90 Michael Dietler has developed Nicholas Thomas’ concept of entanglement to analyze how selective consumption affected interaction and transformed relationships between indigenous people and Greek, Etruscan, and Roman colonists in southeastern France. 91 Dietler demonstrates how consumption is a process of creative appropriation, transformation, and manipulation played out among individuals and social groups according to local logics. Hodder defines entanglement in terms of humans developing dependence on things and that also depend on humans to use, produce, and maintain them, in what may be defined as “a dialectic of dependence and dependency.” 92 In turn this can foster dependence between peoples and things, things and things, things and people, and of course people and people, the last of which is a primary concern in this work. 93 Hodder argues that networks of entanglement shape and sustain the learning and transmission of behavioral similarities.94 In this way entanglement is also useful for considering cultural affinities that arise from such behavior transmission. This helps us appreciate how Carthaginians could get caught up in the objects and people of Iberia, just as Iberians became entangled in the Punic world through selective appropriation of alien goods and practices. 95 90 Van Dommelen and Rowlands 2012, 24–5. 91 Thomas 1991; Dietler 2010. 92 Hodder 2012, 89. 93 Hodder 2012, 15–88. 94 Hodder 2011b. 95 Dietler 2010, 57. 25 Phillip Wolfgang Stockhammer also contributes to the concept of entanglement and how to gauge the intensity of interaction.96 Stockhammer distinguishes between relational and material entanglement. In relational entanglement the object is appropriated into local practices, systems of meaning, and worldviews. Practices may change, but materiality remains intact. A simple example could be the burial of an object as a votive that would normally be put on display in its original contexts of consumption. These require good archaeological contexts in order to determine how objects were used. In material entanglement, objects are recreated as something new, combining the familiar with the foreign, which is often the product of intense interaction. Stockhammer understands the latter to function in the same way as hybridity but without hybridity’s essentialist and biological implications.97 Stockhammer’s method has received some praise for attempting to make entanglement more than a descriptive metaphor, and instead give it more interpretive rigor. 98 Pierre Bourdieu’s theories add further tools for understanding consumption as well as power dynamics. In terms of power dynamics, the coercive capabilities of the Barcid empire are a subject of chapter four, but physical coercion is only one form of power. Bourdieu’s concept of social fields helps explain how groups and individuals compete and ne gotiate their positions within fields of social power. 99 Bourdieu’s theories on consumption are also a useful complement to entanglement, reflecting how patterns of individual consumption reproduce and reflect power dynamics. Bourdieu’s concepts have already been put to good use by archaeologists studying 96 A case for consumption: Dietler 2010, 57–66; importance of gauging intensity of interaction: van Dommelen and Rowlands 2012, 24; Stockhammer 2013. 97 Stockhammer 2013, 15–17; for literature on hybridity see: Bhabha 1984; Tronchetti and van Dommelen 2005; Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2009; Alicia Jiménez 2011. 98 Silliman 2016, 39–45. 99 The main works I draw from are: Bourdieu 1977; Bourdieu 1984; Bourdieu 1990. 26 colonial situations, including among Phoenicians and Iberians. 100 I utilize Bourdieu’s concepts of fields, habitus, and cultural capital, to consider how local elites positioned themselves within the shifting political and social realities engendered by the Carthaginian presence and how their interactions with the Punic world may have shaped their dispositions toward the Barcid empire. Bourdieu’s concept of fields explains social dynamics among people and groups of people. Fields are social arenas in which people interact and are defined by particular intuitions, rules, and conventions within which individuals and groups occupy positions and struggle for desirable forms of capital and also struggle over what constitutes legitimate capital, which can include material capital but also cultural and symbolic capital. For example, in the Seleucid court the philoi of the king struggle against one another for favor, jockeying their positions for access to the king, all the while following understood conventions of interaction, such as appropriate behavior at banquets and during rituals as well as speaking proper Greek. Fields are inherently fluid and can interact with each other, for example a successful general might try to bring his successes in the literal field of war into play when boasting at court. In this way the general attempts to secure symbolic capital in the understood and valued concept of honor (τιμή). Examples of ancient elite competition over symbolic and cultural capital could be multiplied. In Distinction Bourdieu explores how individual patterns of consumption are shaped by their social milieu and cultural competences, serving as a sort of non-financial capital (cultural capital) through which individuals can maintain and advance positions of social dominance, reproducing and reinforcing social difference.101 Bourdieu considers a wide variety of French consumption which gives rise to symbolic expressions of social status and class; objects of consumption include art, music, literature, as well as food and clothing. Elites are able to utilize 100 Iberia: Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014; see also van Dommelen and Rowlands 2012, 22; Dietler 2010, 57–59. 101 Bourdieu 1984, esp. 169–317. 27 their education and upbringing to appreciate the nuances of high cultural objects that have acquired rarity and distinction, such as obscure works of art, thereby demonstrating their possession of the appropriate means to appreciate and appropriate such high art. 102 This sort of behavior is readily observable in Roman contexts. As Mattingly says, “the complicity of high status men in the government of empire and as conspicuous consumers of its globalized culture must be recognized.”103 Elites articulate and maintain their status in part through their consumption but that consumption is also interwoven into social power dynamics upon which imperial power structures depend. Bourdieu is useful for studying material culture because he insists on practice; this is, how people used the things they consumed: “most products only derive their social value from the social use made of them.” 104 Dietler makes fruitful use of Bourdieu for his own work on consumption and entanglement, observing that the systems of objects that people construct enable them to locate others within social fields through embodied tastes and various indexical forms of symbolic capital. 105 Local use of objects produced in Punic cultural milieus could have this same effect of connecting Carthaginians to locals through shared tastes. Of course the actual way in which objects are used, and the extent to which a local practice resembles or differs from Carthagini an practices is significant too, making local practices vulnerable to potential critique or derision. Last is Bourdieu’s concept of the habitus. Bourdieu defined habitus as, “systems of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures.”106 Operating mostly at the unconscious level, this structuring structure “organizes 102 Bourdieu 1984, 228. 103 Mattingly 2011, 26. 104 Bourdieu 1984, 21. 105 Dietler 2010, 57–9. 106 Bourdieu 1990, 53. 28 practices and perceptions of practices.”107 An individual’s habitus is constituted by one’s education, class, past choices, experiences, personal history, and dispositions, becoming “the active presence of the whole past of which it is a product.”108 What results is a subjective system of expectations and predispositions that has been durably inscribed upon an individual’s consciousness and structures their subsequent dispositions and practices. The concept was designed to account for individual agency but contextualized within the constraints and limits that shaped that individual’s world view. An instructive example is attitudes towards the types of animals that are and aren’t acceptable for eating. 109 Greeks rarely ate or sacrificed horses or dogs. Such habituated limits are set by the historically and socially situated conditions of their production. 110 The more similarities two people share in terms of the stuff of their habitus, e.g., education, class, experiences, the more likely they are to perceive the world similarly and act in mutually comprehensible ways. The concept of the habitus is helpful for one of my key arguments in this work, which is that many locals in Iberia had significant experience with the Punic world and aspects of it had become sufficiently entangled within their daily lives, which resulted in varying de grees of familiarity with Carthaginians, their world views, and their ways of doing things. Many locals and Carthaginians could “get” each other, at least well enough to make empire more palatable and bridge the gap between what could and could not be accomplished by force of arms alone. In terms of leadership in particular, Bourdieu writes: “collective mobilization cannot succeed without a minimum of concordance between the habitus of the mobilizing agents (prophet, 107 Bourdieu 1984, 170. 108 Bourdieu 1990, 56. 109 Webb 2002, 39. 110 Bourdieu 1990, 55. Foodways provide a particularly promising avenue of study for considering practices within different s ettlements. Understanding of indigenous foodways has been the subject of recent research (Mata Parreño et al. 2010), though comparable work for Punic settlements of Iberia and for the Punic period is unfortunately lacking. 29 leaders, etc.) and the dispositions of those who recognize themselves in their practices or words.”111 This is precisely why cultural interactions matter for understanding imperialism and why empires function more smoothly within shared cultural milieus, because the ways in which power is legitimated and formalized appear comprehensible and acceptable. If competition within a field can be considered a sort of competitive game, an individual’s habitus determines their “feel” for that game. 112 Some communities in Iberia had been interacting with Punic people and consuming objects produced by Punic hands for centuries. Objects have the power to shape and inform perceptions of foreign people associated with those objects, and changes (or continuities) in material culture reflect changing (or enduring) habitus.113 The habitus of many locals were already entangled in stuff of the Punic world, shaping local dispositions toward Carthaginians. Even for communities that mostly resented Carthaginian domination, they may have viewed it as preferable to what might come from the relatively unknown Romans. Sustained engagement with Punic people and occasionally some Carthaginians familiarized locals with Carthaginian ways of doing things, resulting in a good feel for Carthaginian ways and so in Bourdieu’s terms, a “feel for the game” in terms of interacting with Carthaginians in fields of power. In practical terms this means that local actors would be more able to negotiate relations with Carthaginians that were at least tolerable and in some cases even favorable for their own agendas and struggles within more localized fields of power. With regard to local struggles, Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital is also useful because in a couple instances the evidence suggests that local elites consumed things Punic in new quantities and in 111 My emphasis, Bourdieu 1990, 59. 112 Bourdieu 1990, 82. 113 General agency of objects: Miller 2010, 53; reflection of changing habitus and or social practices: Vives- Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 299; Tronchetti and van Dommelen 2005, 193. 30 new ways to signal their own distinction and display symbolic capital stemming from their political relations with Carthage. In some instances indigenous elites could turn contact situations to their own advantage. Consumption, entanglement, and Bourdieu’s concepts provide powerful tools for analyzing the material evidence for the cultural interactions that enabled and sustained imperial power. 31 PART 4: CHAPTER OVERVIEWS In my conceptualization of empire as a society’s political control over a territory of exogenous communities mostly without their consent, I understand empires as fundamentally relational, and so the key to appreciating how they work rests in the study of relations between individuals of the ruling society and those subject to imperial powers. In chapter one I consider how Polybius characterizes imperial relations and the biases that shape the representations of Carthaginians and Iberians, as well as the political relations between both groups. Polybius offers unique and complex commentary on Carthaginian imperialism but his interpretations align with his larger topical and political concerns. Through careful use of ethnic stereotypes and narrative techniques Polybius lends authority to his critiques of Carthage’s empire. These critiques ultimately serve as warning to the Romans against similar behaviors and also conform to Polybius’ topical depictions of political decay and moral decline. This problematizes his use as a source for understanding Carthage’s relations with its subjects and allies. In chapter two I consider the economic dimensions of the Barcid empire, exploring the consequence of imperial expansion in Iberia and what that meant for Carthaginians as well as subjects and allies in Iberia. With the loss of Sicily and Sardinia, Carthaginians merchants needed a new sphere in which to trade and conquest in Iberia indeed stimulated a great deal of imports from North Africa. Mining revenues and local contributions of soldiers were the main economic benefits that bolstered imperial power, but systems of control also depended on colony founding and logistics for feeding new cities and soldiers, which stimulated commercial opportunities not only for Carthaginians in North Africa but for some of their allies in Iberia too. 32 Chapters three and four both examine empire as interactions, exploring social dimensions of how power was legitimated and enabled. In chapter three I focus on numismatic evidence to consider how Carthaginian minting authorities utilized numismatic imagery of Melqart-Herakles to legitimate conquest and stimulate interaction with local worshippers of the deity. The chapter also includes examination of local reactions to the Carthaginian presence through civic minting, which reflects strategies by which locals made claims to civic autonomy as well as self-interested identifications with Carthaginian symbols of power. This activity reflects Carthaginian strategies of interacting with allies through shared religious institutions. In the fourth and final chapter I examine the strategies and resources the Carthaginians employed to coerce local inhabitants against the potential for cooperation and negotiation w ith locals through shared cultural practices. This concluding chapter suggests that previous interactions with Carthage and especially indigenous interactions with communities of Punic cultural backgrounds in Iberia fostered far more common ground among Carthaginians and locals than Greco-Roman authors represent, which enabled negotiation and the legitimation of unequal power dynamics. 33 CHAPTER 1: POLYBIUS 10.36, THE MAINTENANCE OF IMPERIAL POWER, AND COLLECTIVE REPRESENTATIONS This chapter analyzes a passage of Polybius (10.36), in which Polybius offers an extended critique of the Barcid empire and one of his most extensive commentaries on Carthaginian imperialism. Though the interpretation clearly stems from Polybius’ own opinions, I show how he shapes his narrative leading up to this passage by carefully focalizing Andobales, king of the Ilergetes, and his faithfulness to Carthage as well as the abuses Andobales suffers at Carthaginian hands in order to bolster the rhetorical impact of this explanation. Consistent differences from Livy’s narrative of the same events reveal subtle changes that cumulate in an apparently objective and persuasive interpretation of Carthaginian behavior. Polybius also utilizes ethnic stereotypes to enhance the persuasive quality of the digression in 10.36. This passage has often been read as a warning to Roman readers not to make the same mistakes as the Carthaginians. I further support this argument by showing how the terms used to describe Carthaginian abuse parallel tropic deployment elsewhere in the work, conforming to the author’s collective representation of Carthaginian institutional decline as well as social and imperial decay overall. The same language and ideas are at work in Polybius’ presentation of Greek opinions hostile to Rome’s destruction of Carthage. In this way, Polybius’ critique of the Barcid empire in 211 is a politically and ideologically charged passage, the internal logic of which must be appreciated before treatment of 10.36 as a historically valid representation of Carthage’s imperial relations with Iberian allies. 34 PART 1: LIVY AND POLYBIUS AS SOURCES FOR THE SECOND PUNIC WAR Livy wrote during the Augustan era (c. 30 BCE—CE 10). A reference in the his ten books on the Second Punic War suggests that he wrote during or after Augustus’ wars in Spain, completed in 19 BCE. In this work, Livy functions as a point of comparison to appreciate differences in Polybius’ work. The matter of Livy’s use of sources is complex. 114 Yet what is most important is whether he was aware of Polybius’ account of the Second Punic War. Walsh argued that Livy tended to favor one source for segments of his narrative and Tränkle argued that Livy only occasionally utilized Polybius for his account of the Second Punic War, desp ite substantial use for subsequent accounts of Greece. 115 This view, however, has not convinced all scholars of Livy’s work and Levene has recently shown that Livy responds to Polybius in complex ways and synthesized available sources more intricately than Walsh supposed. 116 Accepting Levene’s argument that Livy was engaging with Polybius from the start of the third decade helps put Polybius’ account in perspective, since I am about to present significant passages in Polybius’ narrative that do not appear in Livy’s account. Many of the differences in Polybius are constructed from details that exist in Livy’s narrative, but Polybius repeats them or orders certain elements differently, particularly with regard to the Iberian leader Andobales. While it cannot be known why Livy did not include all of these elements in his account, the differences open up the possibility that Livy’s Roman sources did not emphasize these details in the way Polybius does either. This suggests that Polybius’ repetition and elaborations served Polybius in crafting a purposeful critique of Carthaginian imperialism. 114 In general: Walsh 1961, 110–137; Luce 1977, 139–84. 115 Walsh 1961, 124–32; Tränkle 1977, 193–241. 116 Luce had already strongly rejected the view that Livy made little use of Polybius before book 31 or wrote mainly from a few extracts of restricted sources, and so only used Coelius Antipater for Spain: Luce 1977, 160–79; Levene 2010. 35 Polybius’ own use of sources is likewise complex. Writing his histories after being taken to Rome in 167, Polybius preferred first-hand accounts of events whenever he could obtain them.117 He questioned Romans involved in the Second Punic War as well as individuals who knew Hannibal and who had crossed the Alps with him. 118 He made use of contemporary inscriptions, topographical information, and archives available in Rome such as Rome’s treaties with Carthage.119 Polybius utilized historical accounts written by Romans as well as those sympathetic to Carthage. 120 The complex synthesis Polybius made of these accounts frustrates attempts at identifying Polybius’ use of a particular source; 121 yet even if Polybius’ use of sources is unclear, he was perfectly capable of articulating his own interpretations about his su bject matter, as he demonstrates in the passage of interest below. While Polybius has enjoyed a reputation since the Renaissance for his great accuracy in the use of facts and apparently scientific objectivity, scholars are beginning to question the latter.122 Kenneth Sacks argues that Polybius applies emphasis to narrative features in order to meet his historiographical and methodological needs.123 Sacks demonstrates how Polybius utilizes narrative exposition to deliver messages to the reader. 124 I employ the narratology device of focalization to analyze this behavior in Polybius, and will show in particular how 117 Pédech 1964, 358–72. 118 Polyb. 9.25.2, 3.48.12. 119 Topographical and geographical information, as well as archive: Pédech 1964, 377–389, 515–597; inscriptions e.g., Jaeger 2006. 120 Extant (however fragmentary) Pro-Carthaginians: Silenus of Caleacte (FGrH 175) Polyb. 3.13.5-14.8, Sosylus of Sparta, Hannibal’s tutor (FGrH 176), Polyb. 3.20.5, & Chaereas (FGrH 177); Roman historians: Fabius Pictor (FRH 1) Polyb 3.8.1, L. Cincius Alimentus (FRH 2), A. Postumius Albinus (FRH 4) & C. Acilius (FRH 5). FGrH = Jacoby 1923; FRH = Beck and Walter 2004. 121 So Walbank: “the vast literature which exists on Polybius’ sources is perhaps disproportionate to the results it has achieved,” Walbank 1957, 1.26. 122 Championed by Lehmann 1967. 123 Sacks 1981, 40. 124 Sacks 1981, 5; Sacks refers to this as the “indirect historian.” 36 Polybius continually focalizes Andobales’ faithfulness toward Carthage to emphasize the supporting points of his analysis in 10.36. 125 Craige Champion adopts Sack’s insight of the indirect historian in his examination of how Polybius’ work serves to censure certain Roman actions and in doing so alienates its elite Roman readership from the world of Hellenism, while at other times also recognizing admirable actions and praising them as “honorary Greeks.” While Polybius’ attitude towards Rome is well- trodden territory in the study of his works, Champion reflects Polybius’ ambiguity toward the Romans, at times showing respect for Roman actions and institutions and other times adopting a more critical attitude. 126 These works support my thesis that Polybius was willing to critique Roman actions and warn them against falling into the very behaviors that caused the downfall of Rome’s enemies. Champion’s work on how Polybius uses collective representation of groups and societal characteristics is particularly useful later in this chapter. Champion demonstrates how Polybius depicts individuals to represent social groups as a whole, as well as how Polybius’ conception of social institutions affects his representations of individual behaviors. For example, because Polybius understood the Carthaginian state to be slipping toward ochlocracy, which he associates with barbarous disorder, Polybius depicts Hannibal’s wrath toward Rome to represent Carthage as a whole and “invites the reader to view his actions as typically Carthaginian.”127 Similar collective representation appears to be at work in Polybius’ depiction of Carthaginian generals in Iberia. I now turn to an overview of these passages. 125 McGing uses this device to good effect in his analysis of Polybius’ depictions of Philip V: McGing 2010, 95–106; see also Miltsios 2013, 84–114; Bal 2009, 145–165. 126 Recent discussion of this complex topic: Eckstein 1995, 194–236; Walbank 2002, 12–21; Baronowski 2011; Thornton 2013; Derow 2015. 127 Champion 2004, 119. 37 PART 2: POLYBIUS AND CARTHAGINIAN RELATIONS WITH IBERIAN ALLIES Andobales, leader of the Ilergetes, features more frequently than any other individual Iberian in either historian’s works. His alliance with Rome provides Scipio Africanus with additional forces for all of the major battles after the capture of Carthago Nova. With the final defeat of the Carthaginians and the expulsion of their forces from Iberia by 206, Andobales himself “defects” from Rome and becomes a new target for Roman aggression, reflecting the historical reality that alliance with Rome ultimately may have differed little from Carthage. Polybius uses Andobales to offer an extended example of how Carthage’s harsh treatment of its allies results in the loss of its “empire” ἀρχή in Iberia. The four passages from Polybius’ Iberian narrative that frame 10.36 may be summarized as follows: first, Polybius presents Andobales at the start of the war where he is captured with Hanno, focalizing Andobales’ faithfulness toward the Carthaginians (3.76.7); Andobales is not mentioned at all in Livy’s account of this battle (21.60). Second: Andobales next appears in Polybius’ work after Hasdrubal’s victory over the Scipios (in 211), where Andobales is presented as a victim of Carthaginian greed and fondness of rule, a behavior that Polybius labels as innately Phoenician (9.11). This depiction of Andobales’ abuse is entirely absent from Livy’s account. Third: Scipio Africanus captures Carthago Nova and upon interviewing the hostages , which include Andobales’ daughters. Polybius’ account is more explicit about Carthaginian abuse of the hostages than Livy’s, and depicts Scipio with an uncharacteristically tearful reaction (Polyb. 10.18.7-15; Livy 26.49.11-16). This is followed by the moment where Andobales actually defects from Carthage after which Polybius delivers his programmatic statement about Carthage’s ἀρχή (10.36), for which there is no parallel in Livy’s work. Fourth: Andobales meets Scipio, is reunited with his daughters, and joins the Roman side for the battle at the Baecula River (Polyb. 10.37.7-38.6; Livy 27.17.9-17). Before examining these scenes in detail, I present 38 the passage of interest. Polybius digresses on Carthage’s Iberian empire ( ἀρχή) as follows (10.36): “The same thing has happened before to many people. For, as I have often said, while success in policy and victory in the fi eld are great things, it requires much more skill and caution to make a good use of such success. So that you will find that those who have won victories are far more numerous than those who have used them to advantage. This is exactly what happened to the Carthaginians at this period. For after having defeated the Roman forces and killed the two commanders Publius and Gnaeus Scipio, they regarded their position in Iberia as undisputed and treated the natives in an overbearing manner. In consequence their s ubjects, instead of being their allies and friends, were their enemies. And quite naturally; for they believed that there is one method by which power should be acquired and another by which it should be maintained; they had not learned that those who preserve their supremacy best are those who adhere to the same principles by which they originally established it and this, although it is evident and has been observed by many that it is by kind treatment of their neighbors and by holding out the prospect of further benefits that men acquire power, but when having attained their wish they treat their subjects ill and rule over them tyrannically it is only natural that with the change of character in the rulers the disposition of their subjects should change li kewise, as actually 128 happened now to the Carthaginians.” This is one of Polybius’ longest discussions of Carthaginian imperial power. There is nothing akin to it in Livy’s work. The generalizing statement with which it opens, the use of the first person pronoun, and overall tone of the passage clearly mark it as didactic. 129 Though Polybius makes several general remarks about Carthaginian ἀρχή throughout his work, the only passage of comparable length and complexity is his discussion of the Carthaginians over-taxing 128 Polyb. 10.36. (Ὃ δὴ καὶ περὶ πολλοὺς ἤδη γέγονε. Μεγάλου γὰρ ὄντος, ὡς πλεονάκις ἡμῖν εἴρηται, τοῦ κατορθοῦν ἐν πράγμασι καὶ περιγίνεσθαι τῶν ἐχθρῶν ἐν ταῖς ἐπιβολαῖς, πολλῷ μείζονος ἐμπειρίας προσδεῖται καὶ φυλακῆς τὸ καλῶς χρήσασθαι τοῖς κατορθώμασι· (2) διὸ καὶ πολλαπλασίους ἂν εὕροι τις τοὺς ἐπὶ προτε ρημάτων γεγονότας τῶν καλῶς τοῖς προτερήμασι κεχρημένων. ὃ καὶ τότε περὶ τοὺς Καρχηδονίους (3) συνέβη γενέσθαι. μετὰ γὰρ τὸ νικῆσαι μὲν τὰς Ῥωμαίων δυνάμεις, ἀποκτεῖναι δὲ τοὺς στρατηγοὺς ἀμφοτέρους, Πόπλιον καὶ Γνάϊον, ὑπολαβόντες ἀδήριτον αὐτοῖς ὑπάρχειν τὴν Ἰβηρίαν, ὑπερηφάνως (4) ἐχρῶντο τοῖς κατὰ τὴν χώραν. τοιγαροῦν ἀντὶ συμμάχων καὶ φίλων πολεμίους ἔσχον τοὺς ὑποταττο (5) μένους. καὶ τοῦτ’ εἰκότως ἔπαθον· ἄλλως μὲν (γὰρ ἐπειδήπερ) ὑπέλαβον δεῖν κτᾶσθαι τὰς ἀρχάς, ἄλλως δὲ τηρεῖν, οὐκ ἔμαθον διότι κάλλιστα φυλάττουσι τὰς ὑπεροχὰς οἱ κάλλιστα διαμείναντες ἐπὶ τῶν αὐτῶν προαιρέσεων, αἷς ἐξ ἀρχῆς κατεκτήσαντο τὰς (6) δυναστείας, καίτοι γε προφανοῦς ὄντος καὶ ἐπὶ πολλῶν ἤδη τεθεωρημένου διότι κτῶνται μὲν ἄνθρωποι τὰς εὐκαιρίας εὖ ποιοῦντες καὶ προτεινόμενοι τὴν (7) ἀγαθὴν ἐλπίδα τοῖς πέλας, ἐπειδὰν δὲ τῶν ἐπιθυμουμένων τυχόντες κακῶς ποιῶσι καὶ δεσποτικῶς ἄρχωσι τῶν ὑποτεταγμένων, εἰκότως ἅμα ταῖς τῶν προεστώτων μεταβολαῖς συμμεταπίπτουσι καὶ τῶν ὑποταττομένων αἱ προαιρέσεις. ὃ καὶ τότε συνέβη τοῖς Καρχηδονίοις). Paton translation with slight modification. 129 For Polybius’ particularly strong use of the first person for didactic purposes see: Longley 2013, 176. 39 and abusing the Libyans and how that caused the Libyans to revolt in 241.130 Parallels between the two are not surprising, for instance the sentiment about foresight: “It is the right policy not only to look to the present, but to look forward still more attentively to the future.”131 Polybius is similarly straightforward in his blame of Carthage, in his critique of their harsh treatment and excessive taxation of their Libyan subjects: “For all these grievous misfortunes they had chiefly themselves to blame.”132 In both cases Polybius suggests that the Carthaginians should have known better and this may indeed be where Polybius saw the start of Carthage’s decline as a state.133 Yet the sentiments in 10.36 play a larger role than in the narrative about Iberi a and in Polybius’ work as a whole. This passage is a carefully constructed argument for how Carthage’s moral degeneration undermined its imperial successes and might, and a warning to Roman readers to beware. Among scholars, Erskine offers the lengthiest engagement with this passage and compares it to Polybius’ viewpoints of Macedon under Philip V and Roman imperialism respectively.134 Erskine observes similar processes at work in Polybius’ critique of the change in Philip’s policy in his treatment of his Greek allies, which similarly alienates otherwise faithful and crucial supporters. 135 Erskine concludes that the passages about Macedon and Carthage reflect an earlier stage in Polybius’ understanding of empire, in which the poor treatment of subjects and allies eventually would result in negative consequences for the ruling power. Erskine assumes Polybius saw Rome abusing Greek states after 168 with impunity and so Polybius was 130 Polyb. 1.74.1-7. Example of remark about Carthaginian empire, Polyb. 1.10.5, their expansion up to First Punic War. 131 Polyb. 1.72.7, (οὕτως οὐδέποτε δεῖ πρὸς τὸ παρὸν μόνον, ἔτι δὲ μᾶλλον πρὸς τὸ μέλλον ἀποβλέπειν ἀεὶ τοὺς ὀρθῶς βουλευομένους). 132 Polyb. 1.72.1. 133 Gibson 2013, 174, 177; for this war in general see: Hoyos 2007. 134 Erskine 2005; this passage has otherwise only received passing notice: Musti 1978, 135; Sacks 1981, 126; Walbank 1990, 180; Champion 2004, 148; Baronowski 2011, 10. 135 Polyb. 7.11.10-11. Erskine 2005, 235–39. 40 forced to adapt his position and look beyond the relationship between ruler and subject. 136 This is where I disagree with Erskine, for the passage also parallels sentiments at the end of Polybius’ work concerning Rome’s destruction of Carthage, where reservations with Roman behavior, if not warnings, are evident. Pelling invites connection between the two passages. 137 Erskine’s argument also misses how this passage fits within the wider context of the Iberian narrative and how ethnic stereotypes shape those passages. Finally, Erskine fails to account for parallels in Polybius’ discussion of the Romans, where Champion’s notions of collective representation are particularly revealing. Pelling highlights this passage when he says, “there are surely lessons there for Romans too.”138 Thornton states the case even more strongly: “when Polybius reflects bitterly on the historical experience of Philip V or extols the magnanimity of Philip II, or even more, when he analyses the moments of crisis in the Punic dominion of Africa and then Spain, his main purpose is to send a message to the Roman political establishment.” 139 That this passage was written with a rhetorical purpose is further strengthened by examining it against the passage s that frame it within Polybius’ narrative of Andobales’ relations with Carthage. 1. Introduction of Andobales Polybius and Livy both record that Hannibal passed through the territory of the Ilergetes on his march to Italy and at that time subjugated Andobales’ community.140 The following year Gnaeus Scipio battled Hanno at the Ebro River, and Livy records that Hanno was captured along with a number of leaders (aliquot principibus).141 Livy provides no details about these leaders, but Polybius records that Scipio captured Hanno and Andobales. Polybius emphasizes Andobales 136 Erskine 2005, 241. 137 Pelling 2007, 249. 138 Pelling 2007, 249. 139 Thornton 2013, 224; Thornton interprets this as a means of rhetorical resistance. 140 Polyb. 3.35.2; Livy 21.23.2. 141 Livy 21.60.7. 41 for “always ever having supported the Carthaginians well-mindedly.”142 Andobales is not named in Livy’s account until the following campaign season and first appears instead with a negative description.143 Polybius focalizes Andobales’ support of Carthage from his first appearance, which serves to reinforce Andobales’ subsequent depiction in book nine. Regrettably the portion of Polybius’ narrative where Andobales assists the Carthaginians in the destruction of the Scipio brothers is not extant, but it would likely cast Andobales’ support in a favorable light. 2. Abuse of Andobales Following Hasdrubal Barca’s two victories over Publius and Gnaeus Scipio in 211, affairs in Iberia looked hopeful for the Carthaginians. This was a huge setback for Roman diplomatic progress up to that point. It is in this context that Polybius presents Andobales’ quarrel with Hasdrubal Gisco: “The Carthaginian commanders had mastered the enemy, but were unable to master themselves, and while thinking they had put an end to the war against the Romans, began quarrelling with each other, constant friction being caused on account of that covetousness and fondness of rule which is innate to Phoenicians (διὰ τὴν ἔμφυτον Φοίνιξι πλεονεξίαν καὶ φιλαρχίαν). Hasdrubal, son of Gisco, was one of them, lead the way in this matter of evil doing through his authority so far that he attempted to extract a large sum of money from Andobales , the most faithful of their allies in Iberia (ὡς τὸν πιστότατον τῶν κατ’ Ἰβηρίαν φίλων), who having lost his realm on account of the Carthaginians, and again recently had it restored to him on account of his goodwill toward them. When he now refused to pay, relying on his loyalty in the past to Carthage, Hasdrubal brought a false accusation against him and compelled him to 144 give his daughters as hostages.” The reference to Andobales’ loss of his ἀρχή pertains to Hannibal’s initial conquest of the interior of the Ebro Valley while the restitution likely reflects a reward for Andobales’ 142 Polyb. 3.76.7: εὔνουν δὲ διαφερόντως ἀεί ποτε Καρχηδονίοις. 143 Livy. 22.21.2; Livy employs an ethnic remark about Andobales’ “Spanish” hunger for adventure. 144 Polyb. 9.11: ( Ὅτι οἱ τῶν Καρχηδονίων ἡγεμόνες, κρατήσαντες τῶν ὑπεναντίων, σφῶν αὐτῶν οὐκ ἠδύναντο κρατεῖν, καὶ δόξαντες τὸν πρὸς Ῥωμαίους πόλεμον ἀνῃρηκέναι πρὸς αὑτοὺς ἐστασίαζον, ἀεὶ παρατριβόμενοι διὰ τὴν ἔμφυτον Φοίνιξι πλεονεξίαν καὶ φιλαρχίαν. ὧν ὑπάρχων Ἀσδρούβας ὁ Γέσκωνος εἰς τοῦτο κακοπραγμοσύνης προήχθη διὰ τὴν ἐξουσίαν, ὡς τὸν πιστότατον τῶν κατ’ Ἰβηρίαν φίλων Ἀνδοβάλην, πάλαι μὲν ἀποβαλόντα τὴν ἀρχὴν διὰ Καρχηδονίους, ἄρτι δὲ πάλιν ἀπειληφότα διὰ τὴν πρὸς ἐκείνους εὔνοιαν, ἐπεβάλετο χρημάτων πλῆθος αἰτεῖν. τοῦ δὲ παρακούσαντος διὰ τὸ θαρρεῖν ἐπὶ τῇ προγεγενημένῃ πίστει πρὸς τοὺς Καρχηδονίους, ψευδῆ διαβολὴν ἐπενέγκας ἠνάγκασε τὸν Ἀνδοβάλην δοῦναι τὰς ἑαυτοῦ θυγατέρας εἰς ὁμηρείαν). 42 distinguished role in aiding the Carthaginians in the defeat of Publius Scipio. 145 It is unclear where Polybius found the detail that Andobales’ had his ἀρχή returned. This does not appear in Livy’s account, though Livy may have simply overlooked it. Note the superlative language that Polybius employs to describe Andobales’ service to Carthage, “the most faithful of their allies in Iberia.” Though the wording differs, the sentiment parallels Polybius’ initial characterization of Andobales in the opening year of the war, “always ever having supported the Carthaginians well-mindedly.” In order to appreciate the significance of Polybius’ use of stereotypes here, a broader discussion of ancient stereotyping is in order. Greco-Roman authors employed stereotypes to suit their own literary ends and in their own particular configurations. 146 Ethnic stereotyping operates within two distinct types of discourse, one involving the group’s specific ethnic characteristics, the second fitting into the broader rhetoric of barbarism. In terms of barbarism, it should be noted the Polybius never directly labels the Carthaginians as barbarians, though Timaeus promoted the barbarism of Carthage quite strongly.147 Timaeus was just part of a rich Sicilian tradition that branded Carthaginians as tyrannical barbarians for their wars against Greeks in Sicily, a tactic borrowed by Romans themselves to win over Sicilians in the First Punic War. 148 Yet Polybius seems fairly restrained with regard to slighting Carthaginians as barbarians while Livy only does so on two rare occasions and both of these passages are highly polemical.149 In the works of both authors, Carthaginians are usually contrasted with barbarian groups rather than conflated with them. 145 Livy 25.34 for Andobales’ role; Polybius’ version is lost except for a fragmentary line. 146 Woolf 2011, 29. Iberian stereotypes are more peripheral to this particular discussion, though they operate on similar logic throughout. 147 Miles 2011a, 14–15; e.g., Diod. 13.43.6. Timaeus likewise is believed to be an important source for other negative stereotypes in Diodorus, such as Carthaginian softness and cruelty. 148 Prag 2010. 149 Livy 22.59.14 & 24.47.5. In the first instance, the speaker and those he represen ts, the Romans taken prisoner by Hannibal at Cannae, are depicted as cowards and so the ad hominem slander of Hannibal as a barbarian is problematic. In the second case, Roman soldiers are speaking to Apulians, so the use of barbarian might occur because the discussion is placed in Magna Graecia. 43 Polybius signals this most clearly in his description of how the Carthaginians handled the mercenary revolt, stating that they displayed: “the great difference of character between a confused herd of barbarians and men who have been brought up in an educated, law-abiding, and civilized community.”150 Yet at other times, as discussed below, Polybius is quite willing to depict Carthaginians with behaviors that are characteristic of barbarism. This somewhat ambiguous portrayal results from that fact that Carthage complicates the traditional Greco- Roman and barbarian polarity. 151 Stereotyping of specific characteristics is more significant in this case. The stereotypes that Polybius applies to Punic individuals derive from precedents in Phoenician stereotypes first visible in Homer. Both positive and negative stereotypes were available to Polybius. 152 Negative images circulated alongside the positive, most notably a reputation for avarice and cunning. 153 Gruen shows how other negative images, such as deceit and piracy, were not necessarily ubiquitous and even their incipient depictions in Homer were overall more ambiguous than monolithic. 154 These precedents are important for considering Polybius, because on the few occasions when he overtly stereotypes Carthaginian characters, he signals their broader “Phoenician” (φοῖνιξ) identity, rather than the civic Carthaginian. 155 Of the eight instances in which Polybius uses φοῖνιξ to describe western inhabitants, three of these are employed to make (mostly) 150 Polyb. 1.65.7. 151 Dauge 1981. Similar bipolarity espoused for Greek constructions of the barbarian in Hall 1989. 152 Hdt.. 5.57-59. Arist. Polyb. 1272-3; among the positive traits, Greek authors recognized Phoeni cians as successful merchants, craftsmen, and explorers. Phoenicians were also generally regarded for their technological accomplishments, most notably the creation of the alphabet, while Aristotle praised the Carthaginians for the political accomplishments of its constitution, even if he had some reservations for the importance wealth played 153 E.g., Phoenician tricks Odysseus and plans to sell him, Homer Od. 14.287 -97. 154 Gruen 2011, 116–17. 155 For my translation of this word as Punic rather than Phoenician, see the above terminological discussion. 44 negative value judgments, and all come from Polybius himself rather than a speaker. 156 In the first instance Hannibal disguises himself which Polybius characterizes as a “Phoenician stratagem” (Φοινικικῷ στρατηγήματι).157 Yet even by Polybius’ time, Punic people and Carthaginians had not yet acquired a ubiquitous reputation for deceit. 158 By comparison, one witnesses stronger and more frequent usages in Livy, particularly Hannibal’s craftiness, deceit, and treachery.159 Most infamous is fides punica, by Livy’s time a well-defined trope that designated the treachery innate to Punic individuals. Livy evokes this trope in his initial character sketch of Hannibal, who possessed, “a more than Punic perfidy” (perfidia plus quam Punica).160 Gruen has argued convincingly that fides punica, not attested until the works of Sallust, was a later development by Roman authors, probably related to guilt over the destruction of Carthage. 161 In contrast to these, Polybius’ comment about the Phoenician stratagem appears somewhat ambiguous, nodding to Phoenician craftiness of older traditions, but does not evoke the outright mendacity or treachery popular in later Roman traditions. Polybius’ remark about greed in 9.11 has few parallels for ethnic stereotyping in Polybius’ work as a whole. 162 The only instance in which greed is treated as an explicit characteristic of Carthaginians comes from Masinissa, who accuses Carthaginians of generally being “money lovers” (πιλαργθρίας). Though coming from a polemical speaker, it is consistent with the ethnic stereotype of Phoenician greed. Christel Müller argues that Polybius attribution 156 The other five: Polyb. 1.19.10, 11.19.4, 14.1.4. 14.5.4, & 15.4.3. 157 Pol 3.78.1; cf. Pol 6.52.10 for the other negative characterization of Phoenician and Libyan infirmity. 158 Hdt. 3.19; 4.196. Gruen 2011, 118–19. 159 For fraus e.g., 22.48.1, 26.17.15, 27.33.9, 30.22.6. For arte see 25 39.1. Inhuman cruelty is often attributed specifically to Hannibal, e.g., 21.4.9 but for a generalizing example combining Punic cruelty and avarice see 22.59.14 (an barbaro ac Poeno, qui utrum avarior an crudelior sit vix existimari potest). 160 Livy 21.4.9. 161 Gruen 2011, 130–138. 162 Polyb. 9.11.2, see below. 45 of greed to the Boeotians is entirely topical and dependent upon his understanding of the Boeotians as decadent. 163 Because the characteristics of greed are far more attested in previous Greek authors, Polybius’ employment of Phoenician “fondness of rule” (φιλαρχία) stands out, as this was not a common stereotype. Polybius’ general disinterest in more prevalent traditions about Phoenician craftiness reinforces the peculiarity of this choice. The only case in which Phoenicians are labelled for despotic aspirations, of which I am aware, occurs in Pindar’s First Pythian ode, in which Hieron is praised for delivering the Sicilian Greeks from the “arrogance” (ὕβριν) and “harsh slavery” (βαρείας δουλίας) of the Phoenicians, by whom Pindar intends the Carthaginians. Polybius emphasizes φιλαρχία as an ethnic trait because it serves an important role in his analysis of Carthaginian empire in Iberia. Based on extant sources, Polybius’ usage here appears to be unique. The ambiguity of stereotypes lends itself to the complexity of authorial purposes and defies simple characterizations such as good or bad. Even the most apparently obvious ethnic jokes that Plautus puts forward in his Poenulus can be shown to operate in more complex ways than simply vilifying Punic peoples. Starks convincingly argues that Plautus anticipates a mixed audience whose prejudices he thwarts and whose sympathies he validates. 164 Ambiguity likewise serves Livy’s characterization of Hannibal before the battle at the Ticinus River in 218: “this most cruel and arrogant people makes all things its own and under its judgment.” 165 Hannibal levels this ironic judgment at the Romans, yet his speech reveals him to be daring and sympathetic, especially where Hannibal highlights the Roman rape of Sardinia and their meddling in Iberia, with foreshadowing of the Roman invasion of Africa. Scipio’s speech, on the other hand, fails to 163 Müller 2013; Polyb. 20.4-7, for Boetian geed see esp. 20.6.1-6. 164 Franko 1994 shows a little appreciation of such ambiguity, but focuses primarily on the negative; Plaut. Poen. 1137, 1190, 1255; Starks 2000, 183. Interpretation supported by Gruen 2011, 127. 165 Livy. 21.44.7: (crudelissima ac superbissima gens sua omnia suique arbitrii facit). 46 inspire the Roman troops and Scipio’s haughty tone confirms Hannibal’s claim about Roman arrogance (superbissima gens).166 Hannibal’s subversion of the typical stereotypes invites the reader to be sympathetic toward his victory over Scipio, highlights the tragic trajectory of his campaign, and showcases Hannibal’s personal motivations as a Carthaginian hero and protagonist of books 21-25.167 Authors are frequently willing to manipulate stereotypes to serve their literary agendas; yet beyond their service as literary tropes, stereotypes also hold significance to the social historian. Emma Dench argues that stereotypes can productively be seen as reflecting Greek and Roman “ways of seeing” outside groups. 168 Gideon Bohak takes this one step further and insists that stereotypes operate for ancient viewers as “social facts,” that lent authority to narratives. Bohak shows how Tyrian coins played on positive stereotypes that depicted Phoenician Cadmus teaching Greeks the alphabet. Bohak also points to the imperial jurist Ulpian to suggest a case of Phoenician response to and rejection of the negative stereotype of Punic perfidy, through Ulpian’s praise of his hometown of Tyre for its faithfulness to its treaties with the Romans. 169 Authors’ use of stereotypes as “social facts” reflects a dialectic process, one taken seriously by groups stereotypes as well, which lent authority to authorial accounts. Polybius’ emphasis on Phoenician “avarice” (πλεονεξίαν) makes sense in this context. Readers of Greek literature would readily recognize this trait and this way of viewing individuals of a Phoenician cultural background.170 Even so, this formulation is particularly emphatic in the context of the Second Punic War. Comparing this to Livy’s ethnic portraits, Livy often attributes 166 So after Scipio’s speech is presented, Livy contrasts Hannibal’s preference to, “inspire his men first with deeds rather than words” (Hannibal rebus prius quam verbis adhortandos milites) Livy 21.42.1. And following Hannibal’s rousing speech, in 21.46.1 Livy highlights Roman reluctance to engage (apud Romanos haudquaquam tanta alacritas erat). 167 For references see: Rossi 2004, 362. 168 Dench 1995, 177; she assumes no stereotypes do not contain any inherent truth value about group identities 169 Bohak 230 in Gruen 2005. 170 See examples from the Odyssey of Phoenician greed in the introduction. 47 greed as a character flaw of Hannibal, one that Polybius’ actually addresses and rejects, but Livy never labels greed as a specifically Punic trait, as he does with terms such as perfidia.171 Polybius’ emphasis on the Punic commander Bostar’s hunger for a bribe elsewhere refl ects Polybius’ portrait of Punic characters. 172 The emphasis of the stereotype here corroborates Polybius’ depiction, reflecting terms Polybius expected his audience to find persuasive. What fits less well is the claim about “fondness of rule” (φιλαρχίαν) being an innate quality of Phoenicians. I am aware of no comparable usage in other Greek authors. 173 It is possible that Polybius is utilizing a stereotype that gained less currency and has therefore not been transmitted. Given the far more pervasive experience the Greek world had of Phoenician commerce and colonization, it makes sense that Phoenicians acquired a reputation for greed rather than one for megalomania. Polybius may be innovating with his own stereotype or adapting a less familiar one to meet the specific historical context that he is examining. It seems convenient that a stereotype about Phoenician desire for ἀρχή occurs in passage in which Polybius explores the dissolution of Carthaginian ἀρχή.174 The pairing of these two terms may partly be influenced by the works of the Roman author Fabius Pictor. In book three Polybius recalls that Fabius claimed one of the main causes of the Second Punic War was Hasdrubal’s “greed and fondness of rule” (πλεονεξίαν καὶ φιλαρχίαν).175 That Polybius rejects Fabius’ interpretation here does not mean he was against applying the same terms elsewhere to categorize Carthaginian shortcomings. While I will show 171 Example of Hannibal’s greed, Livy 26.28.3; Polybius’ refutation 9.22.8. See introduction for list of the traits Livy explicitly labels as Punic. 172 Polyb. 3.98-99; Bostar’s eagerness for a bribe receives more emphasis than in Livy’s account: Livy 22.22. 173 Pindar praises Hieron in his First Pythian ode for delivering the Greeks from the “arrogance” (ὕβριν) and “harsh slavery” (βαρείας δουλίας) of the Phoenicians, but this is not treated as neither an innate quality nor does it imply the sort of megalomania that φιλαρχία implies. 174 This might also provide an example of a false start of a stereotype; if so, perhaps its failure to gain currency reflects that later authors would have found little use for it, in part because the Roman tradition came to prefer stereotypes concerned with Punic treachery. 175 Polyb. 3.8.1; FRH Fabius 22. 48 that the two terms play a far larger role in Polybius´ work, the use of terms by a Roman author is significant, and suggests that Polybius’ may have even shaped this passage with such Roman attitudes in mind, which supports my point that 10.36 could be meant as a political message to Roman readers. Champion’s work on collective representations takes the matter further still. Champion argues that Greek thinkers understood three determinants of differences among people: characteristics inherent to them by nature, climactic and geographical influences, and lastly political and social institutions.176 The final category had the most influence in Greek political theory. As I shall investigate below, Polybius associates φιλαρχία and πλεονεξία with degenerating constitutions and Polybius believed Carthage’s loss in the Second Punic War was partly due to its degenerating constitution. Polybius introduces the behavior of the Carthaginian leaders as an example of Carthaginian folly in general, satisfying Champion’s criteria of a Polybian collective representation.177 The implication that Carthaginian behavior goes hand in hand with Carthage’s social degeneration helps explain this otherwise exceptional use of the stereotype of Phoenician φιλαρχία. I now return to the passages under discussion. 3. Carthago Nova and Andobales Shortly after this passage Scipio Africanus delivers a speech in direct discourse to his soldiers as they prepare for the capture of Carthago Nova, and it also builds upon the ideas presented in passage 9.11. Scipio observes that the Romans can make use of Carthaginian discord. Scipio also emphasizes Carthage’s abuse of its allies in almost the same terms considered above: “and by their tyrannical treatment of their allies they have estranged them all and made them their enemies (πολεμίους αὑτοῖς).”178 The use of the word for enemies is 176 Champion 2004, 6. 177 Champion 2004, 173–203. 178 Polyb. 10.6-7: (τοῖς τε συμμάχοις ὑβριστικῶς χρωμένους ἅπαντας ἀπηλλο τριωκέναι καὶ πολεμίους αὑτοῖς παρεσκευακέναι). Cf. Livy 26.41: Livy’s lengthier speech is overall more about Scipio’s character and family. 49 important here because Polybius uses this term in his digression in 10.36: “instead of being their allies and friends, were their enemies (πολεμίους ἔσχον).”179 Livy’s Scipio says they are weary of their burdens and want Roman protection, but does not talk about their becoming enemies; Livy’s speech is also much more focused on characterizing Scipio. Scipio then leads his attack and captures Carthago Nova, changing the course of the war in Iberia and ultimately the Second Punic War as a whole. With the capital of Carthaginian Iberia in Roman hands, Scipio gained control of the Iberian political hostages housed there and released them to diminish local support for Carthage. The sources depict significant diplomatic gains for the Roman side, evinced by overtures for alliances with Rome from named Iberian elites. 180 The sources also portray the initial interactions of the hostages with the Romans through a dialogue between Scipio and the wife of Mandonius, brother to Andobales. Polybius and Livy diverge in these depictions in two important ways. First, Polybius presents the release of the hostages as contingent upon their families entering alliance with Rome, while Livy’s Scipio releases them freely without imposing any conditions for alliance. Second, Polybius explicitly refers to the sexual abuse that Andobales’ daughters suffered from the Carthaginians where Livy merely presents the captives ambiguous anxieties about their sexual safety. Livy then elaborates on the account overall, introducing an Iberian figure, Allucius, who freely becomes a client of Scipio, whereras Allucius is not present in Polybius’ work. As a whole, the interactions with the hostages at Carthago Nova reveal that Polybius is more concerned with vilifying Carthage’s abuse of Andobales’ family while Livy is more focused on idealizing Scipio’s generous treatment of Iberian clients. 179 Polyb. 10.36.4: (τοιγαροῦν ἀντὶ συμμάχων καὶ φίλων πολεμίους ἔσχον τοὺς ὑποταττο μένους) 180 Recall that the historical reality behind the Abilyx scene is questionable and might reflect duplication of the scene that follows. 50 In Polybius’ account, Scipio tells the hostages to take heart and bi ds them to write home to assure their families of their safety but also that they will be freed if their communities become allies of Rome. In Livy’s account, Scipio informs the captives that: “indeed they have entered the power of the Roman people, who prefer to oblige people with benefaction rather than fear and have foreign peoples bound to themselves with trust and partnership rather than subject them under miserable servitude”. 181 Livy’s Scipio then arranges for messengers to be sent to their families so they may be returned and in the case that envoys of their communities were already present, they were restored on the spot. In Livy’s account, Scipio appears to release them with no strings attached. This immediately reinforces the sentiment of Roman benefaction (beneficium). In the passage where hostages are released from Saguntum, Livy also omitted any reference to the Romans freeing the hostages to serve pragmatic ends, which Polybius was more explicit about in that case as well. While Livy shapes his narrative to enhance the image of Rome’s treatment of Iberians, Polybius is more concerned with vilifying Carthaginian conduct toward them. The wife of Mandonius speaks up among the hostages. She weeps and begs Scipio for merciful treatment of herself and the other female hostages, among whom number Andobales’ daughters. In both accounts Scipio initially misunderstands and guarantees that their material needs will be met. This prompts her to obscurely indicate that her anxiety regards their security from sexual abuse. In both versions Scipio readily obliges and promises to look after them as he would his own family or friends. 182 The main difference in the accounts is that Polybius asserts that they actually suffered such abuse from the Carthaginians, but Livy does not. In Livy’s account, when it becomes clear that Scipio does not understand the implications of her pleas, 181 Livy 26.49.8: (uenisse enim eos in populi Romani potestatem, qui beneficio quam metu obligare homines malit exterasque gentes fide ac societate iunctas habere quam tristi subiectas seruitio ). 182 Polyb.10.18.15 says as his own sisters and children, Livy 26.49.16 says the wives and mothers of guest- friends. 51 she clarifies her anxiety for the young women’s safety. Scipio notices Andobales’ young and beautiful daughters, and then provides further reassurance that the Romans respect what is sacred and orders that the women be treated with the same respect as family friends. 183 No mention is made of the Carthaginians or the past treatment of the female captives. In Polybius’ account, Mandonius’ wife responds to Scipio’s misunderstanding in essentially the same way, but her initial plea and his reaction to it differ significantly. Mandonius’ wife begins with explicit reference to Carthaginian abuse and this ultimately elicits a stronger emotional reaction from Polybius’ Scipio. She pleads for “more proper treatment of the women than the Carthaginians had done.”184 When Scipio misunderstands and she clarifies she is not worried about food, the daughters’ beauty gives rise to an emotional realization from Scipio. Looking upon the girls and realizing what they have suffered, Scipio “is driven to weep”.185 It is a rare thing for Polybius to portray a character weeping. He is in fact remarkable for critiquing other Hellenistic historians for overindulging in such emotional tropes. 186 When Polybius does depict weeping, he typically employs it for characters that are either grieving or begging; Mandonius’ wife does something of both in this scene. 187 In terms of Roman characters, the only other time Polybius shows a Roman weeping is in the year 146, where Scipio Aemilianus weeps over the destruction of Carthage. 188 On one level, this is probably intended to praise the Scipio family, with whom Polybius had close ties. Yet Scipio’s unusually 183 Livy 26.49.13. 184 Polyb. 10.18.7: ποιήσασθαι τῆς αὑτῶν εὐσχημοσύνης ἀμείνω Καρχηδονίων. 185 Polyb. 10.18.13; (ἠναγκάσθη δακρῦσαι). 186 Polyb. 2.56.6 for critique of Phylarchus. 187 Cf. 15.28.7, 30.5.4. I count a total of 11 instances in which Polybius uses this term ( δακρύω) in the extant work. The only instance of κλαίω appears with δακρύω in Scipio’s weeping for Carthage. Other terms to express lamentation are less relevant because Polybius specifically employs δακρύω twice in his critique of its unrestrained use by Phylarchus. Polybius does not employ the term carelessly. 188 Polyb. 38.22.1. This fragment derives from Appian (Lib. 132) and though the tone may not reflect Polybius’ original words, Diodorus (32.24) also depicts weeping. Walbank 1957, iii.727. 52 emotional reaction to the abuse of Andobales’ family is also part of the pattern of focalizing the abuses that Andobales himself has suffered from Carthage, still building up to his programmatic critique of Carthaginian imperialism in 10.36. The account of Carthago Nova is reinforced by an earlier hostage scene that takes place at Saguntum, where a cunning Iberian named Abilyx tricks a Carthaginian commander Bostar into releasing hostages. 189 Polybius and Livy diverge here in their characterizations of individuals and the ways in which the authors employ stereotypes. Both authors contrast Carthage’s tyrannical behavior and reliance on fear to control Iberian communities with Roman goodwill as well as clemency and generosity. Yet, the authors vary significantly in the presentation of Scipio as well as more subtly in the depictions of Abilyx and Bostar. On the whole, these scenes reflect and serve the divergent ends of each author. On the one hand, Livy seeks to exculpate Scipio from the sordid dealings with Abilyx, both by distancing Scipio from the affair itself and by weaving the negative qualities of the Carthaginian and Iberian characters more tightly together, by playing on Punic and Iberian stereotypes that were not as well developed in Polybius’ times. On the other hand, Polybius presents Abilyx in such a way as to echo the earlier depiction of Andobales’ exceptional loyalty to Carthage and Polybius again plays on stereotypes of Phoenician avarice that Livy does not, emphasizing the lure that Abilyx’ gifts have on Carthaginian Bostar. Polybius does so in order to preemptively fashion a coherent picture of Carthaginian and Iberian relations that frames his extended critique of those relations through Andobales. 4. Andobales’ Defection 189 The Saguntum passage may be a doublet of the Carthago Nova passage, Beloch 1915, 361, and so an unhistorical episode, or at least of exaggerated importance, De Sanctis 1979, iii.2.174. Nevertheless, the authors’ depictions remain revealing. 53 Both accounts remark on Andobales’ defection, as well as the other defections it inspires and Hasdrubal’s decision to force a battle with Scipio in order to stem further defections. 190 In Livy’s simpler version, Andobales claims to have defected from Hasdrubal for the same reasons as Edeco, the first named Iberian leader to defect to the Romans. 191 While I have omitted closer discussion of this passage, Polybius provides Edeco with a lengthy speech in which Edeco highlights similar instances of abuse at Carthaginian hands, though Livy merely reports that Edeco was the first to come over to the Romans, without providing any speech. 192 Yet when Andobales meets up with Scipio prior to the Baecula, Andobales divulges more specific motivations. Livy’s Andobales speaks to Scipio with such eloquence that Livy highlights the disjunction with barbarian norms: “he spoke not at all as a stupidly and carelessly like a barbarian, but rather with modesty and gravitas, and excusing his change of sides as necessity rather than glorifying it as an opportunity smartly seized.” 193 Andobales expresses appreciation for the suspicion with which Scipio will view his offer of alliance in view of his defection from Carthage. So Andobales recounts “his faithful service to the Carthaginian generals, services ill rewarded by their avarice and arrogance and every sort of injustice (auaritiam contra eorum superbiamque et omnis generis iniurias) upon himself and his people.194 Livy’s words here finally reflect the abuses in terms that match those used by Polybius in passage 9.11, though one can see they have been employed quite differently. In his conclusion, Andobales reiterates the violence and injury he has endured. Scipio then accepts the offer of alliance and returns the wives and children. 190 Polyb. 10.37.1-4; Livy 27.17.4 captures the snowball effect: “unless he went to action daring something, the defections which began would become a cascade” (nici audendo aliquid moveret, qua coepissent ruerent). 191 Polyb. 10.34; Livy 27.17.3. 192 It is tempting to think this speech could have been Polybius’ invention but it is impossible to prove. 193 Livy 27.17.10. 194 Livy 27.17.12: (merita inde sua in duces Carthaginienses commemorauit, auaritiam contra eorum superbiamque et omnis generis iniurias in se atque populares). 54 The alliance with Andobales initially pays off. Andobales seems to have fought well at the Baecula, considering that after the victory Scipio rewards him with a gift of 300 horses. 195 When the Ilergetes revolt after the expulsion of the Carthaginians and during Scipio’s mutiny, they are said to have set their minds on carving out their own kingdoms in Spain (regnum sibi Hispaniae) and so begin attacking their neighbors in the Ebro Valley, who happen to be Roman allies.196 In Scipio’s speech to his own mutinous men, Livy has Scipio reference this revolt and compare the mutinous Roman soldiers to the Ilergetes on four occasions, contrasted with the single reference to Andobales’ revolt in Polybius’ version of this speech. Without going into the details of the speeches, Livy’s repeated emphasis on Andobales revolt serves to legitimize the actions against a problematic Iberian ally. This reflects the turbulent relations Rome experienced with Iberians for the next two hundred years and shifts the blame on the shoulders of recalcitrant local communities. It also reflects the historical reality that treatment under the Romans may not have been terribly different from the worst of Carthaginian treatment. When Polybius presents Andobales’ defection from Carthage, he reiterates the abuse Andobales has suffered and draws attention to his previous treatment of this matter. Polybius also explicitly references how Hasdrubal took his daughters hostage. Polybius writes, “they were supposed to be the most faithful allies of the Carthaginians, but they had long been disaffected and were watching for an opportunity for revolt, ever since Hasdrubal, as I above stated, on the pretext that he mistrusted them, had demanded from them payment of a large sum of money and the surrender of their wives and daughters as hostages.” 197 No such reference exists in Livy because in his depiction, the scene between Hasdrubal and Andobales did not occur. Polybius 195 Livy 27.19.7. 196 Livy 28.24.3-4. 197 Polyb. 10.35.6: (ἀληθινώτατοι δὲ Καρχηδονίων φίλοι δοξαζόμενοι, πάλαι μὲν ὑπούλως διέκειντο καὶ καιρὸν ἐπετήρουν, ἐξ ὅτου προσποιηθέντες οἱ περὶ τὸν Ἀσδρούβαν ἀπιστεῖν αὐτοῖς ᾔτησαν χρημάτων τε πλῆθος καὶ τὰς γυναῖκας καὶ τὰς θυγατέρας εἰς ὁμηρείαν, καθάπερ ἐν τοῖς πρὸ τούτων ἐδηλώσαμεν). 55 then reports that Andobales leaves Hasdrubal and this causes the other Iberians to follow suit, attributing this to the fact that, “they had long been offended by the arrogance of the Carthaginians, but this was the first opportunity they had of manifesting their inclinations.”198 This is the moment, for Polybius, when Carthaginian actions have finally caused their authority to fracture. Scipio’s success at Carthago Nova, his careful treatment of abused hostages, persisting Carthaginian abuse and estrangement of their allies, and Andobales’ defection are all responsible for this turn of events. Andobales at first justifies his initial friendship with the Carthaginians, pointing out his loyal service to them. He then recounts the injuries and insults he suffered under them and argues that due to their “many acts of injustice, he had been forced to abandon his friendly attitude.”199 The explanation of Andobales’ motives found here is more cohesive and thorough than in Livy. Scipio’s responses likewise differ in Polybius and Livy’s accounts. In Livy’s account, Scipio gives a brief response emphasizing that Andobales will not be considered a deserter. He then presents Andobales with his family, resulting in a joyful and tearful reunion. 200 In Polybius’s account, Scipio responds to Andobales’ concerns over his family and reiterates their abuse by the Carthaginians: “Scipio himself had the clearest evidence of the tyrannical conduct of the Carthaginians in their licentious treatment of the wives and daughters of the speaker and his friends, whom he himself 201 had found in the position not so much of hostages as of prisoners and slaves.” This abuse of hostages is reiterated and expanded upon. This second reference to their abuse is now recognized by Scipio, indicating that Polybius’ initial emphasis of their abuse and Scipio’s 198 Polyb. 10.35.8. 199 Polyb. 10.37.10: (πολλὰς ἀδικίας ἀναλογιζόμενοι κατ’ ἀνάγκην ἀφιστῶνται τῆς εὐνοίας τῆς ἐκείνων). 200 Livy 27.17.16. Polybius’ contempt for such dramatization is well known. 201 Polyb. 10.38.1-2: (ὁ Πόπλιος καὶ τοῖς ὑπ’ ἐκείνων εἰρημένοις ἔφη πιστεύειν, μάλιστα δὲ γινώσκειν τὴν Καρχηδονίων ὕβριν ἔκ τε τῆς εἰς τοὺς ἄλλους Ἴβηρας καὶ μάλιστα τῆς εἰς τὰς ἐκείνων γυναῖκας καὶ θυγατέρας ἀσελ γείας, ἃς αὐτὸς παρειληφὼς νῦν οὐχ ὁμήρων ἐχούσας διάθεσιν, ἀλλ’ αἰχμαλώτων καὶ δούλων, οὕτως τετηρηκέναι τὴν πίστιν ὡς οὐδ’ ἂν αὐτοὺς ἐκείνους τηρῆσαι πατέρας ὑπάρχοντας). 56 emotional response are not incidental. Together this reflects a cohesive and sustained narrative focalized around Carthaginian abuse of allies. It is now that Polybius delivers his programmatic passage in 10.36. These consistent and deliberate depictions of Andobales bolster Polybius’ critiques of Carthaginian abuses of allies, making vivid for his reader exactly how the change of policy resulted in alienation of allies and contributed to the erosion of their empire in Iberia: “for they believed that there is one method by which power should be acquired and another by which it should be mai ntained.”202 The Carthaginians’ assumption that their power was unassailable led to this behavior. Polybius identifies a similar change in policy with regards to Philip V; McGing shows how in that case Polybius repeatedly focalizes points about Philip’s youthfulness leading up the passage where Philip goes astray. 203 This has the effect of strengthening Polybius’ interpretation that Philip was corrupted by bad advisers in the first place. My analysis suggests a parallel case in which Carthaginian abuse of Andobales is focalized in order to strengthen the impact of Polybius’ critique of Carthage in 10.36, setting up an implicit warning to Rome. Baronowski argues that Polybius overall viewed the Romans to be remaining consistent in their treatment of allies after obtaining undisputed power in 167, but there were some signs that morality was beginning to degenerate, which would eventually contribute to the collapse of Roman power. 204 The destruction of Carthage is a passage where Polybius voices reservations relevant to this matter. To appreciate 10.36 in its larger role in Polybius’ narrative and how it indeed serves as a warning to Roman readers, I now conclude with Polybius’ treatment of constitutional decay in book six and depiction of Greek opinions on the destruction of Carthage in book 36. In these passages I show how Polybius explores the corrosive effects that greed 202 Polyb. 10.36.5. 203 McGing 2013. 204 Baronowski 2011, 87–113. 57 (πλεονεξία) and fondness of rule (φιλαρχία) have on societies as well as how these vices are implicated in the process by which imperial powers abandon the means by which once they have obtained power in their maintenance of it. PART 3: BOOK SIX AND GREEK OPINIONS ON CARTHAGE’S DESTRUCTION The terms by which Polybius criticizes Carthage’s collective imperial behavior in Iberia mirror the language used to critique institutional decline toward ochlocracy in book six. 205 Müller shows how Polybius’ critiques of the Boeotians are related to Polybius’ own topical treatment of decline, with ochlocracy feeding on the greed of the Boeotian people.206 Here I show how Polybius is doing something similar in his treatment of Carthaginians. Polybius saw the Carthaginians at their moral height during the First Punic War but claims that Carthaginian institutions were already in decline by the time of the Second Punic War and so the Carthaginian people (δῆμος) had become supreme.207 Polybius believes this is the reason why the Carthaginians ultimately lost the Second Punic War to Rome. 208 Polybius is unclear as to whether he views Carthage characterized as a democracy or ochlocracy, though his comments at the conclusion of book six are revealing. Polybius claims that after a state weathers many dangers and attains “supremacy and uncontested sovereignty” (ὑπεροχὴν καὶ δυναστείαν ἀδήριτον), its citizens will eventually succumb to their own prosperity and rivalry between citizens will grow out of control. 209 205 On the importance of book six to Polybius’ work in general and its general aim of explaining Roman success: Erskine 2013. 206 Müller 2013, 273–77; Polyb. 20.6.2-4. 207 Polyb. 1.13.12 & 6.51.3. 208 Polyb 6.51.7. Carthaginian reliance on mercenaries and overal l lack of self-sufficiency also contributed to its defeat; Champion 2004, 141–43. 209 Polyb. 6.57.5. 58 One of the key ingredients that precipitates change for the worse will be citizens’ “fondness of rule” (φιλαρχία).210 Citizens will then find grievances against individuals who appear driven by “greed” (πλεονεξίαν) and the populace will be puffed up by flattery of those driven by “fondness of rule” (φιλαρχίαν).211 At this point ochlocracy takes over the state. Polybius also uses a verbal form of (φιλαχεῖν) in his original explanation of ochlocracy at the start of the book. 212 Of the nine times Polybius uses a form of the noun φιλαρχία, it appears twice within these two lines, along with the word for greed. In the passage where Hasdrubal abuses Andobales, the Carthaginian generals exhibit the quarreling, greed, and “fondness of rule” that Polybius judges to be signs of states in decline, just as Carthage is supposed to be during this time. Polybius notes the quarreling of the generals in 9.11 and in 10.36 he claims the Carthaginians deemed their “rule over Iberia undisputed” (ἀδήριτον αὐτοῖς ὑπάρχειν τὴν Ἰβηρίαν). The depictions of behavior in Iberia conform quite closely to the programmatic treatment of social decline in book six. Other parallels further strengthen connections between 9.11, 10.36, and book six. In describing the Spartans, Polybius praises how well-off Lycurgus’ institutions made them with regard to their city and private lives, but says that Lycurgus also left them “most fond of rule” (φιλαρχοτάτους) with regard to the rest of Greece. 213 Polybius follows up by including the same noun, φιλαρχία, to describe the Spartan’s failed attempts at expansion abroad. 214 Polybius’ main complaint with Spartan expansion over the rest of the Greeks is that it exceeded the means of Spartan institutions, which were only effective at dominating their neighbors and 210 Polyb. 6.57.6. 211 Polyb. 6.57.7. 212 Polyb. 6.9.6. 213 Polyb. 6.48.8. 214 Polyb. 6.49.3. 59 the Peloponnesians. 215 Polybius likewise claims that constitutional decline is inevitable for all states and explicitly indicates that this includes Rome’s mixed constitution, though it is not necessarily imminent.216 Because Polybius observes signs of Rome’s moral decay after 167, 217 it is quite plausible that he understood Rome to be susceptible to these same issues. Critiques of Carthage and Sparta come full circle when Polybius presents Greek opinions about Rome’s destruction of Carthage (36.9). The first and fourth opinions condone Rome’s destruction of Carthage while the second and the third expre ss disapproval. Polybius does not explicitly comment on which he personally supports, if any, though scholars have often attempted to surmise which views Polybius may have favored. 218 Champion argues that Polybius uses the voice of the indirect historian in opinions two and three to voice critique of Roman barbarism.219 While Baronowski, Walbank, and Ferrary argue that Polybius agreed with the first and fourth views, they also uphold that the critical opinions reflect Polybius’ reservations about Roman actions. Eckstein, while refraining from judging which opinions Polybius favored, emphasizes the moral significance in the theme of “departure from original purposes” expressed in the arguments. 220 While I find Champion’s arguments convincing, the opinion of Ferrary, Walbank, and Baronowski that envisions merely the reflection of reservations is sufficient to make my case. In the passage Polybius writes: “Others took the opposite view, saying that far from maintaining the principles by which they had won their supremacy, they were little by little deserting it for a fondness of rule (φιλαρχία) like that of Athens and Sparta, starting indeed later than thos e states, but sure, as everything indicated, to arrive at the same end. For at first they had made war with every nation until they 215 This inconsistency in expansion is distinct, but resembles the critique of Carthaginian change of habits, in so far as the intuitions by which they attained power in the Peloponnese could not be used beyond it. 216 Polyb. 6.9.12; other remarks about general inevitability of decline: 6.4.11 -13, 6.51.3-8, 6.57.1-9. 217 Eckstein 1995, 142, 229–30, 264–65, 286; Walbank 2002, 208, 227; Champion 2004, 148, 213 –14, 227– 28; Baronowski 2011, 156–9. 218 That Polybius favored opinion one and four: Walbank 1957, 3.663–4; Ferrary 1988, 327–43; Musti 1978, 54–7; that he favored the criti cal opinions: Schepens 1989; Petzold 1969, 62–3. Walbank eventually came to admit the critical opinions could reflect reservations, Walbank 2002, 19–20. 219 Champion 2004, 163. 220 Eckstein 1995, 232, n. 149. 60 were victorious and until their adversaries had confessed that they must obey them and execute their orders. But now they had struck the first note of their new policy by their conduct to Perseus, in utterly exterminating the kingdom of Macedonia, and they had now completely revealed it by their decision concerning Carthage. For the Carthaginians had been guilty of no immediate offence to Rome, but the Romans had treated them with irremediable severity, 221 although they had accepted all their conditions and consented to obey all their orders.” Miltsios argues that here Polybius focalizes these views to promote a diverse range of o pinions in this work. 222 Miltsios’ emphasis on focalization is useful, especially if one considers how these sentiments tie into the ideas already focalized in 9.11 and 10.36. The opinion accuses the Romans of abandoning the principles by which they obtained their empire and succumbing to φιλαρχία, again mirroring the critiques of the Carthaginians in Iberia: abandonment of the principles that had led to success and corruption from φιλαρχία. The reiteration of Sparta, about which Polybius made his opinions quite clear in book six, strengthens the link between Polybius’ warnings about harsh dealings, φιλαρχία, and consistency in the maintenance of imperial power. The possibility of Rome succumbing to the harsh policy it dealt out to Carthage, just as Carthage paid for its harsh treatment of the Iberians, appeared obvious enough to contemporary Romans. Polybius’ text preserves Scipio Aemilianus weeping at the destruction of Carthage and ironically quoting Homer: “A day will come when sacred Troy shall perish, and Priam and his people shall be slain.”223 This would mark the second occurrence in all of Polybius’ work in which a Roman character weeps. The first instance was with Scipio Africanus weeping at Carthago Nova, over Carthaginian abuse of the hostages. That scenes of Romans weeping only occur for the two Scipios at the two Carthages may be more than mere coincidence. It lends strong praise to the character of the Scipio family, Polybius’ close friends. Yet in a more subtle way, it brings us full circle, showing that Carthaginians had no one but themselves to blame for 221 Polyb. 36.9.5-8; Paton trans., with modification. 222 Miltsios 2013, 86. 223 Polyb. 38.22.2 = App. Punica, 132. 61 what happened to their empire, while subtly intimating that if the Romans were not careful, they could easily befall the same fate. CONCLUSIONS Polybius’ judgements of the Barcid empire in 10.36 are anything but objective assessments of the Carthaginians, but instead reflect Polybian topoi concerning the author’s beliefs about the maintenance of power, the proper treatment of subjects and allies, and the degeneration of social institutions. This lengthy commentary does provide a unique and complex view of the Barcid empire, but Polybius’ rhetorical efforts to enhance this interpretation through the focalization of Andobales’ relations to Carthage and the use of ethnic stereotypes must be taken into account. These passages were carefully crafted to serve as a warning to Polybius’ Roman readers to treat their allies well if they intended to maintain imperial supremacy. Polybius selected details and even scenes that do not appear in Livy’s account, which at least suggests his selective emphasis of details he found in written or oral sources in order to confirm his particular vision of the Barcid empire in 211. The dependence on ethnic stereotypes and collective values related to Carthage’s “decaying” constitution should also give us pause. Above all, Polybius’ ideological motives and evolutionary social principles should be kept in mind when considering information from his work for study of the Barcid empire. Historically speaking, it is worth pointing out that if Polybius may have been exaggerating instances of abuse, his account also assumes that the Barcid empire was established through better practices that those exhibited by its generals in 211, at a time when its generals were under pressure to extract resources from allied communities to support Hannibal’s campaign in Italy. Polybius is intent to emphasize the Carthaginians at their w orst, 62 but was not interested in providing an equally clear or persuasive picture of what they had done right up to the point of 211. Given Polybius’ strong interest in emphasizing Carthage’s harsh treatment of its allies and the negative effects of such be havior, this at least suggests that he found relatively less material to support this image of Barcid imperialism before 211. It is also important to note that Andobales quickly revolted against the Romans in 206 and again in 205, losing his life in the second instance. This suggests that Andobales’ expectations of Roman beneficence were disappointed. Polybius’ willingness to potentially exaggerate Roman reactions to Carthaginian abuse of hostages also warns against reading passages about the political significance of hostages at face value. The importance of hostages for securing allied loyalties may appear overstated. A free hand also seems at work in the creation of speeches from barbarian characters, who in some instances made no comparable speeches in Livy’s account. Finally, it is noteworthy that these crude depictions of ethnic groups, dependent upon essentialist characteristics and sharp categories of difference, hardly reflect the more complex social realities of the Barcid empire. As proceeding chapters will show, there was a great deal of interaction between Carthaginians and locals and in many cases, the essentialist labels of Carthaginian, Punic, and Iberian become increasingly problematic and fuzzy as one studies the material culture and practices of those who lived in Iberia. 63 CHAPTER 2: ECONOMIC INTERACTIONS The creation and maintenance of the Barcid empire spurred significant economic activity, from which Carthaginians, Iberians, and Punic inhabitants of Iberia profited. Such benefits were reaped by the subjugation and exploitation of local people through conquest, tribute, colonization, mining, and slavery, which spurred construction, exchange, and consumption. These economic dimensions mattered a great deal to the individuals involved, both those profiting from the empire and those exploited by it. While previous scholarship has relied primarily upon literary and numismatic evidence to offer cursory treatment of economic dimensions, such dimensions have received no extended consideration.224 For a commercial and economic powerhouse like Carthage, this gap in our knowledge is surprising. The archaeological evidence now reveals the range of economic activity that this vigorous empire spurred, reflecting the material consequences it had both for Carthaginians and the inhabitants of the empire in Iberia. That an economic impact can be detected at all offers a significant step forward in our current understanding, helping unveil a critical dimension of this once “phantasmagorical” empire. 225 Yet the archaeological evidence not only reveals that the Carthaginians had an impact, but also offers glimpses of how empire affected Carthaginians and local people. This information forces us to consider how Carthaginian elites reacted to the disruption of the state’s administered trade network in Sicily and Sardinia and how new markets in Iberia affected traditional practices of exchange, production, and redistribution.226 The material evidence also suggests that allied communities benefited more 224 Blázquez Martínez 1989; López Castro 1995, 73–97; Blázquez Martínez, Alvar Ezquerra, and González Wagner 1999; Lowe 2000; Ferrer Maestro 2006. 225 Bendala Galán 2010, 438. 226 A modern historiographical chimera once envisioned Hamilcar Barca opposing Hanno the Great’s policy of agricultural aggrandizement in Africa. Yet excavations in Iberia and Carthage reveal a very different picture. I’m unsure if I want to open myself up for this debate. 64 than the polemical depictions in literary sources suggest. I show that Gadir (Roman Gades) exploited the supply needs of the Carthaginian forces to boost its ancestral fish-salting industries to new levels of intensity. Other Punic communities as well as Iberian complicitly participated in the imperial scheme. After a synopsis of previous scholarship, in part one I examine Carthage’s primary methods of economic exploitation, which took the forms of tribute-taking, human mobility, as well as mining and slavery. While the evidence for these activities is relatively sparse, they were critical for mobilizing the wealth and resources that financed construction as well as new patterns of consumption and exchange. Intensified exchange was necessary to support the demands of new consumer bases of soldiers, laborers, and colonists. In part two, I consider the imperial capital of Carthago Nova as the economic hub of empire and as a case study to show how all of these factors coalesces on a large scale. I first consider the considerable resources and labor that were invested in the construction of the city along with the productive significance of that construction. Then I examine Carthago Nova’s role as redistributive center for goods consumed there by colonists, soldiers, and miners as well as goods being exchanged between Carthage and allied communities. In part three, I turn to contemporary construction elsewhere, including another Carthaginian settlement as well as civic expansion among allied communities. I conclude in part four by looking at the intensification of exchange and consumption among allied communities; here Gadir provides a strong case for the beneficial impact that the Barcid empire entailed for local commerce and consumption. Empire created crisis for some but opportunities for others. This chapter is about how Carthaginians and local allies seized the opportunities of empire. 65 PREVIOUS SCHOLARSHIP Previous scholarship has given little treatment to the economic dimensions of the Barcid empire in their own right. Primarily utilizing literary evidence, previous work has been mostly descriptive, reiterating literary passages about Carthaginian mining operations and a skeletal narrative of campaigns. 227 Numismatic treatments have tended to focus on military matters rather than economic dimensions of the coinage. 228 The main interpretive questions have been concerned with the economic motivations behind Carthaginian interests prior to the Barcid era and the general economic importance of the Barcid conquest in the wake of Carthaginian military crises and losses of territory. 229 The communis opinio now views prior Carthaginian influence in Iberia as primarily commercial in nature, against previous scholarship that posited a direct imperial presence, based on scattered references from the literary sources. 230 In the older view, Carthage assumed control over Phoenician territories after Tyre’s fall in 573 BCE and the attendant crisis in the Phoenician colonies. 231 Scholars are less certain now about the homogeneity and ubiquity of this “sixth-century crisis.” Nevertheless, Phoenician adoption of Carthaginian material culture and funerary practices, notably the transition from cremation to inhumation practices, reflects cultural and commercial influence from Carthage. 232 C. R. Whittaker challenged the notion of Carthage’s imperial takeover, rightly emphasizing the “scrappy literary and archaeological evidence,” for it, arguing instead that 227 See note 224. 228 Villaronga 1981; Chaves Tristán 1990; García -Bellido 1993; Alfaro Asins 2000b. 229 Questions about the political motivations behind conquest, such as the goal of building up to defend against Rome or even to seek revenge for the loss of the First Punic War, exceed the scope of this work. 230 Ferrer Albelda 2002, 12–14. 231 Unless otherwise noted all dating refers to BCE. 232 For a reserved reading of these changes see: Aubet Semmler 2001, 341–6; cf. Telmini et al. 2014, 115. For funerary practices: Gómez Bellard 2014. 66 Carthaginian influence amounted to commercial dominance. 233 Carthaginians carefully administered a trade network through various treaties with Mediterranean trade partners. Polybius’ rendition of the second treaty between Carthage and Rome of 348 may reflect monopolizing strategies on the part of Carthage in its ban of Romans from raiding or trading in the waters of southern Iberia. 234 Though formed from a hypothetical basis of equality and reciprocity, such agreements over time could engender disparities in Carthage’s commercial and political favor.235 Whittaker’s emphasis on Carthage’s commercial rather than imperial ambitions has become paradigmatic for the study of Punic Iberia as well as the Punic world as a whole. 236 Scholars still debate how these arrangements affected Carthage’s Punic allies in Iberia. Some emphasize the political dominance of Carthage; others, like Oswaldo Arteaga, have argued that at least Gadir enjoyed parity with Carthage, leveraging its alliance to nurture its own hegemony over a local league of Punic polities.237 Arteaga’s proposed league builds upon Miquel Tarradell’s initial treatment of an economic network in the Straits of Gibraltar, which he coined the “Circuit of the Straits” in which Gadir played an important economic and supposedly political role.238 While Gadir’s economic significance is undeniable, its political position remains ambiguous.239 As intriguing as Arteaga’s proposal may be, there is no evidence to demonstrate that Gadir ever headed a formalized Punic league of any sort or that it exercised political leadership among Phoenician neighbors. 240 A more flexible stance is more likely to reflect the variety and complexity of arrangements. Communities in the Circuit of the Straits negotiated 233 Garnsey and Whittaker 1978, 70–1. Justin 43.5.3, Pol. 1.10.5, 2.1.6. 234 Pol. 3.24. For commentary on the relation between Polybius’ toponyms and Iberia, see Ferrer Albelda 2011a. 235 Garnsey and Whittaker 1978, 84–88. 236 For Iberia see: González Wagner 1989; López Castro 1991, 77–9; Ferrer Albelda 2002, 17; more general acceptance: Telmini et al. 2014, 114–5. 237 Arteaga 1994. 238 Tarradell 1965; Tarradell 1967; Niveau de Villedary 2001c. 239 Niveau de Villedary 2003. 240 Arteaga 1994, 41–2. 67 different positions between commercial autonomy and dependence with respect to Carthage, while others perhaps exploited mutually beneficial relations with Carthage. 241 It is important to consider a range of possibilities when thinking about these relationships. Each community probably established and negotiated its own arrangements with Carthage and each other. Prioritizing the archaeological evidence permits us to transcend the generalizations drawn from the literary sources. 242 Instead, a community’s material remains can be examined in their own right to elucidate the development of the community’s fortunes. Even where Carthaginian influence may be suspected, one should not underrate the determination of communities to negotiate fiercely in their own interests, even if Carthage had military and commercial advantages. Finally, internal factors drove changes too. 243 Innovation and significant change within an allied community need not always stem from Carthaginian influence. 244 Scholars have also considered the economic motives behind the conquest of Iberia. On a general level, Howard Scullard’s article in the Cambridge Ancient History represents the communis opinio: “the loss of Sicily and Sardinia had weakened the economic life of the city [Carthage].”245 Polybius notes the lost revenues caused by these territorial losses and the Mercenary War (241-238).246 Literary sources also emphasize the personal motives of Hamilcar and Hannibal to use Iberia for a war of revenge against Rome. 247 Otto Meltzer first challenged this tradition about the “wrath of Hamilcar” as historiographical dramatization and instead 241 Hegemony: González Wagner and Lopez Cástro; mutually beneficial however unequal relations: Ferrer Albelda 1998; Pliego Vázquez and Ferrer Albelda 2011. 242 Ferrer Albelda 2002, 17. 243 E.g., for emphasis on internal developments, Niveau de Villedary 2001c. 244 Alicia Jiménez 2014, 220. 245 Scullard 1989 p. 22. 246 Pol. 1.82.7, Pol. 3.13.1; for financial difficulties that precipitated the Mercenary War cf. Pol. 1.66.5, perils of the same war Pol. 1.65.4. 247 Pol. 3.9.6-10.7, Liv. 21.1.4, App. Iber. 9.34. 68 rightly emphasized the general crisis provoked by territorial losses and allied revolts. 248 While the loss of revenues directly extracted from Sicily and Sardinia may have been significant, the consequences for Carthage’s administered trade network were also grave. Ulrich Kahrstedt long ago offered an intriguing hypothesis about the commercial implications of losing the islands: Carthaginians could make up for these losses by opening up new markets to rebalance those deficits with “Spanish trade.” 249 Karhstedt’s proposal has gained some support among experts, though up to now little work has been done to test his hypothesis with the material evidence.250 In the 1980s Morel studied the circulation of Carthage’s third-century ceramics, offering a first glimpse of the diffusion of Carthaginian black glazed ceramics in the Iberian Peninsula (fig. 2.3). 251 The predominance of this pottery and therefore goods is especially marked on the eastern coast. Thirty years of excavation at Carthage, Carthago Nova, and numerous other settlements in Iberia have sharpened the chronological precision of existing typologies, particularly for transport amphorae. 252 These excavations furnish sufficient information that goes beyond Morel’s global observations and can now offer more nuanced understandings of economic contexts and interactions at local levels. How did the Barcid empire affect the material life of Carthaginians as well as the existing inhabitants of Iberia? What difference, economically, did the empire make? Kahrstedt’s 248 Meltzer 395, “nicht blofs einzelne Persoenlichkeiten, sondern weite Kreise in Karthago.” For more recent critique and bibliography see: Errington 1970, 26–32; Scullard 1989, 22–3; González Wagner 1999, 276, 285; Hoyos 2003, 53–4 notes 7 & 8. 249 “Den spanischen Handel” Kahrstedt 1913, 138–9. 250 Support: Blázquez Martínez 1961, 3–4; Chic García 1978, 233; López Castro 1995, 75; Mata Parreño 2000, 27; González Wagner 1999, 265; Noguera Celdrán, Madrid Balanza , and Velasco Estrada 2011, 480; González Wagner has asserted that the loss of political influence attendant upon the loss of commercial hegemony in the Mediterranean was crucial. To Kahrstedt’s credit, he considered archaeological evidence for Punic trade in Iberia, but the dearth of available evidence offered no chronological precision with which to link objects to the Barcid era, Kahrstedt 1913, 123–8. 251 Morel 1986. 252 Ramon Torres’ monograph remains a fundamental guide, Ramón Torres 1995. 69 hypothesis can now be tested against the material evidence to provide part of the answer. The conquest of Iberia did stimulate new commercial activity for Carthaginians in the metropolis. Yet to fully appreciate the economic impact that the conquest entailed for Carthage and its allies, exchange must be placed within the wider context of economic activities spurred by conquest and exploitation. I begin with the more exploitive aspects, which both fueled and stimulated demand for other economic activities. PART 1: IMPERIAL EXPLOITATION AND MAINTENANCE 1.1 TRIBUTE Tribute was an important economic stimulus and a fundamental reality of empire. Tribute could take the forms of agricultural levies, money, and soldiers for the Carthaginian army. While plunder was important too, tribute implies periodic extraction of resources from local communities.253 Though tribute-taking is undetectable in the archaeological evidence, there are some direct literary references to the taking of tribute alongside the more abundant remarks about plunder. After reviewing the evidence for tribute and the different forms it took, I consider its economic implications. The sources indicate that local communities negotiated a variety of political statuses with Carthage, with some distinguished as allies and others as subjects. Hamilcar is said to have subjugated some communities by force and others via diplomacy, which assumes some negotiation of status, as does Hasdrubal’s general reputation for diplomatic acumen. 254 253 Examples of plundering include Hannibal’s campaigns against the Vaccaei (Liv. 21.5) and Saguntum (Liv. 21.15). 254 Hamilcar, Pol. 2.1.7, Diod. 25.10; Hasdrubal, Pol. 2.36.1, Diod. 25.12, Liv. 21.2.5?. 70 Therefore, within the territory that Carthage controlled, some but not necessarily all communities may have paid tribute (figs. 2.1 & 2.2). Polybius refers to monetary tribute in his description of Hannibal’s demands on the Olcades.255 Other ancient authors also report instances in which Carthaginian commanders subjugated communities for which it is reasonable to presume that tribute payment followed.256 Polybius assumes a direct correlation between conquest and the increase in Carthage’s economic and military resources. 257 Agricultural tribute was likely important, in addition to revenues from land annexed by Carthage. 258 Military manpower was also an important form of tribute, probably provided by both subjects and allies. 259 Diodorus claims that Hamilcar after his first victory (c. 237) enrolled 3,000 of the prisoners into his army. 260 If this reveals something of a policy toward gaining control of local military manpower, it culminated in Hasdrubal’s acclamation as autocrator by his Iberian troops.261 Livy says that Hannibal’s demand for troops is what sparked the initial revolt of the Olcades, resulting in monetary tribute thereafter. 262 The Carthaginians raised levies from Iberian 255 Pol. 3.13.7 “having exacting tribute form the cities ” (ἀργυρολογήσας δὲ τὰς πόλεις); Liv. 21.5.4 “the lesser cities forced to accept Carthaginian authority with tribute imposed” (perculsae minors civitates stipendio imposito imperium accepere); Polyaenus 7.48, “he made an agreement, taking 300 talents of silver” (συνθήκας ἐποιήσατο, λαβὼν ἀργυρίου τάλαντα τριακόσια). 256 Chic García 1978, 133–4; González Wagner 1999, 272; Hamilcar subjugated many cities, Diod. 25.10, subjugated the most warlike people of Africa, Nep. Ham. 4.1; Hasdrubal’s subjugation of the 12 cities of the Orissi, Diod. 25.12. 257 Pol. 3.10.6, 14.10. 258 Implied in Hannibal’s promise of Iberian land to his soldiers, Liv. 21.45.5. 259 López Castro 1995, 75; González Wagner 1999, 272; Quesada Sanz 2005, 133–4. 260 Diod. 25.10. 261 Diod. 25.12; Pol. 10.10.9. 262 Liv. 21.11.13. 71 communities throughout the Second Punic War. 263 Hostage-taking seems to have been one method employed to secure the contribution of troops. I consider the Roman case suggestive for estimating the dramatic economic impact of tribute. Peter Bang argues that the redistributive forces of tribute-taking in the Roman Empire had a stronger impact on exchange than the markets themselves through which goods were exchanged, though the interrelation of state and “free” market forces is more important than their disconnection or opposition, as Hopkin suggested. 264 Tribute can be an effective means for increasing peasant production by forcing peasants to work harder, beyond fulfilling the basic consumption needs of their household.265 A final aspect related to tribute-taking is the potential stability that empire can force upon economies. When empire amounts essentially to the enforced sale of protection, it has the ancillary benefit of creating stability and diminishing transaction costs. This phenomenon is well attested for the Roman Empire, where Roman peace limited bellicosity between states while also effectively improving the flow of information and goods, and perhaps some overall reduction in piracy and banditry. 266 However short lived, the imposition of a tributary empire may have had similar effects in some areas of Iberia where previously warfare between neighbors had been endemic. 267 263 Hannibal’s initial troop arrangements: Pol. 3.33.14-16, Liv. 21.22.2-3; reinforcement of the three armies that defeated the Scipio brothers, Liv. 25.32.3, Liv. 25.34.6; reinforcements after the defeat at Baecula, Liv. 27.20.7; troops raised for the battle of Ilipa, Pol. 11.20.1, Liv. 28.12.13 -15. 264 Hopkins 1980; Bang 2007. 265 Bang 2007, 25–27. 266 Scheidel, Morris, and Saller 2007, 10; Bang 2007, 47–9. 267 Quesada Sanz 2003, 146–8. 72 1.2 MINING & SLAVERY Mining mattered. The extraction of rare metals played a significant role in financing the Carthaginian army and perhaps other state projects. Mining required huge investments of manpower and infrastructure. Little direct archaeological remains of Barcid mines, largely due to the later presence of Roman mines that in many cases may have maintained the systems appropriated from Carthage. 268 I begin with an overview of the coinage minted under Barcid leadership, the clearest physical testament to mining; I then review the scarce remains of Barcid mining centers that were located in regions of the Río Tinto River, the Sierra Morena mountain range and hills within the modern district of Cartagena (fig. 2.4). I conclude with some brief remarks about the use of slave labor in the mines. Mining operations permitted Carthage to mint vast amounts of coinage for military and administrative needs. Given its relevance to mining and the Barcid economy as a whole, a brief overview of coinage in Iberia prior to and during the Barcid era is useful here. Prior to the Barcid period, only three communities ever minted any coinage, with sporadic issues and essentially local circulation. From the fourth century onward Emporion issued silver issues while Gadir and Ebusus began issuing their own bronzes at the start of the third century. 269 Most foreign coins in southern Iberia were Carthaginian issues, which circulated more widely in the Central Mediterranean from the fourth century onward. 270 The output of Carthaginian coins during the Barcid era was large, using various rare metals; estimates suggest between 25 and 35 dies per year were used throughout our period. 271 268 Blázquez Martínez 1989, 165; Domergue 1990, 166–7; Berrocal Caparrós and Ramallo Asensio 1994, 90. 269 Ripollés Alegre 2012 in Metcalf 2012. 270 Alfaro Asins 2000a, 25–7; Frey-Kupper 2014, 80–96. 271 Villaronga 1981. 73 This coinage was minted in Iberia under Carthaginian authority and is known as Hispano - Carthaginian coinage, while issues that arrived in Iberia from the mint of Carthage can be called Carthaginian civic coinage, and coins minted by local communities in Iberia may be considered provincial coinage. 272 Finds indicate that the coinage was mainly lost and hoarded in southern Iberia and along the eastern coasts, providing a rough impression of its circulation (fig. 2.2). Hispano-Carthaginian coinage was issued under the authority of the Barcid generals and for this reason is also referred to as Barcid coinage. 273 These coins were struck in vast quantities, first in silver and then in bronze too under Hannibal.274 While some scholars have seen the images of the Barcid generals in these issues, most experts identify their obverse iconography as traditional Punic deities. 275 That controversy, however, is less important than the question of the coins’ economic function. Silver issues were minted primarily to pay soldiers serving Carthage. 276 Yet the bronze divisions likely reflect the developing need for smaller units of exchange among local markets.277 It is also probable that soldiers exchanged some of the silver coinage in local markets, a likely if unintended consequence of their state production. 278 The eventual bronze issues may have been partly driven by growing demands among the users of the silver coinage for smaller units of exchange. The earliest Hispano-Carthaginian issues, to judge from their exclusive appearance in the region, were minted at Gadir, whereas more diffuse issues appear to have been minted 272 Alfaro Asins 1997, 51. 273 The standard work remains Villaronga 1973 with important revisions and overviews available in Villaronga 1983; Alfaro Asins 1993a; García -Bellido 1993; Alfaro Asins 1997. 274 Villaronga estimates the Barcids utilized roughly 370 dies between 237 to 218, an d 207 dies for silvers of the Second Punic War alone, Villaronga 1981, 144–47. While providing a good idea of the order of magnitude of Carthaginian minting, the actual accuracy of these estimates matters little for our purposes. 275 See n. 49 276 Alfaro Asins 2000b, 123. 277 Villaronga 1981, 124 & 139; Alfaro Asins 2000b, 123. Smaller scale state transactions, such as administrative transactions, should also be kept in mind García-Bellido 1993, 323. 278 Howgego 1990. 74 later at Carthago Nova, reflecting the progress of Hamilcar (237-229) and Hasdrubal’s (229-221) campaigns from west to east.279 Minting for Carthage continued at Gadir and was also taken up at Arse/Saguntum, Ebusus and Castulo during the Second Punic War. 280 Spectrographic analysis of 74 silver coins has shown that Hispano-Carthaginian coins were minted by allied mints; variations in their trace metals conform to patterns in provincial coinages. For example, Hispano-Carthaginian coins minted by Gadir contain a small but distinct measure of copper in place of the lead in other coins, a feature visible in the provincial coinage of Gadir. This might indicate a degree of autonomy in allied minting for Carthage. 281 While Hispano-Carthaginian coinage minted by allies was at the disposal of the Carthaginian state, favored allies were permitted to mint their own civic coinages as well.282 Compared to pre-Barcid Iberia, minting under Carthaginian power increased tremendously and depended on large scale mining operations. Hamilcar established control over the mineral resources in the region of the Río Tinto River. The area had seen intensive mining activity during the eighth through sixth centuries, after which many settlements were abandoned and activity generally abated, though some sites seem to have continued producing and interacting with old Phoenician colonies. 283 The silver initially extracted from these mines may have been used to create the first Hispano-Carthaginian issue, dated to Hamilcar’s reign for its limited appearance in the region of Gadir. 284 The handful of sites for which it is possible to identify signs of Carthaginian mining all coincide with later centers from Romans times (fig. 2.5). Diodorus claim that all Roman mines coincided with 279 Villaronga 1973, 73–93; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 31. 280 López Castro 1995, 84–87. 281 Sejas del Piñal 1993. 282 For civic minting as a sign of autonomy see Howgego 1995, 39–43. 283 Fernández Jurado 2002; the mine at Tharsis may have continued to produce throughout the fourth century, ad note the arrival of products from the Circuit of the Straits, Pérez Macías 1996, 112–3. 284 Villaronga’s type II, Villaronga 1973, 87–91. 75 Carthaginian precursors. 285 This seems true for the limited number of sites where signs of Carthaginian mining can be identified, making comparison with the Roman period convenient for visualizing the potential scope of Carthaginian mining operations, though this is only impressionistic at best; only excavations can reliably identify Carthaginian mines. Settlements abandoned since the sixth-century crisis were reoccupied and new mining technology was employed. At Niebla appear contemporary wares from the Circuit of the Straits and the sites destruction appears linked to Second Punic War. 286 Niebla’s involvement in silver metallurgy was likely reinvigorated by the Carthaginians. At Huelva where mining activity lulled in the fifth century, there are also signs of intensive exploitation at the end of the third century.287 At Tejada la Vieja reorganization of the settlement in the late third century may also reflect Carthaginian intervention during this period. 288 Finally at Corta Lago at Río Tinto (fig. 2.6) there is evidence not only for revitalization but the appearance of a new furnace types that used more developed blooms, resulting in improved reduction in the oven. 289 The introduction of new technology and the reinvigoration of settlements represent a significant development for the mining economy in Río Tinto under the Carthaginians. There were significant Barcid mining operations within the di stricts of the Sierra Morena mountain range, cradled between the valleys of the Guadiana and Guadalquivir Rivers and formed the southern border of the Central Meseta. Despite the absence of archaeological evidence, Barcid mining operations are more evident in literary sources and numismatic 285 Diod. 5.38. 286 Toscano, Pérez, and Campos 2000, 97. 287 Pérez Macías 1996, 137. 288 Campos Carrasco and Gómez Toscano 2001, 168. 289 Pérez Macías 1996, 95; Pérez Macías and Delgado Domínguez 2007, 292–3; the authors characterize these as “genuine blooms” of 30 cm. in length. 76 evidence.290 The community of Castulo was an important regional center of great political importance to the Carthaginians, significant enough that Hannibal married a member of the local elite from here. 291 Pliny the Elder reports that the mines which Hannibal opened near Castulo furnished about 225 pounds of silver per day. 292 A Barcid mint may likely have been located in Castulo though the city was also permitted to mint its own civic bronzes at this time, which show iconographic influence from Hispano-Carthaginian types. García Bellido sees the bronze issues as related to mining operations, rather than commerce, perhaps as salaries for miners.293 The scarcity of material and literary evidence conceals this significant activity. The site for Carthago Nova was selected in part due to the mineral wealth of the region. The principal sites were the Sierra Minera de Cartagena to the immediate east and the mining zones in the modern regions of Mazarrón y Águilas (fig. 2.7). 294 Mazarrón is the location of the first recovery of a hoard of Hispano-Carthaginian coins, found in 1861, among which were 70 silver shekels with Melqart-Heracles on obverse and elephants on reverse.295 Even one of the five hills in the new city was named after the god Aletes who was honored for discovering the silver mines and may have been a local Iberian deity. 296 The metallurgical site of indigenous Los Nietos, was occupied and rebuilt by the Carthaginians at this time. It was previously occupied by indigenous Iberians who traded with Punic peoples.297 At the site are remains of slag and different types of ovens associated with metallurgical activity. A larger oven was used as a melting furnace while the smaller ones were 290 Lack of archaeological evidence, Blázquez Martínez 1994, 52. 291 Liv. 24.41.7. 292 Plin. Nat. 33.96-7, 300 librae; cf. Strabo’s about a place called “silver mountain” near Castulo, Strabo. 3.2.11. 293 García-Bellido 2000, 133–4. 294 Antolinos Marín 2008, 619. 295 One and a half size denomination, Villaronga Class III type III, for hoard see Villaronga 1973, 73–4. 296 Polyb. 10.10.11; Berrocal Caparrós and Ramallo Asensio 1994, 89. 297 Berrocal Caparrós and Ramallo Asensio 1994, 89. 77 used for cupellation. The larger oven may date to the first half of the fourth century though it continued to operate during the Barcid era. The coastal position would have facilitated transportation of fuel and materials to the complex. García Cano and Ruiz Valderas conclude that the complex was probably related to the processing of silver. 298 The site was abandoned at the end of the third century and not reused by the Romans. In the mining region of Mazarrón there are signs of Carthaginian presence in addition to the coin hoard at Los Gavilanes where silver was processed. This site had seen metallurgical activity since the eighth century but shows intensification of use in the fourth and third centuries, with a significant presence of Punic material. During the fourth and third centuries a new foundry was installed and utilized. This site was also abandoned in the last quarter of the third century, perhaps linked to Rome’s capture of Carthago Nova. The evidence for prior interaction at these sites with Punic peoples suggests that in our period Carthage took more direct control over mining operations in which there had already been some degree of commercial involvement. 299 Signs of some technological innovation during the Barcid era appear to coincide with Diodorus’ report of the Carthaginians introducing large scale mining operations. It is often assumed that the Carthaginians introduced new Hellenistic technologies to the Peninsula, paving the way for Rome. 300 In this respect, the new bloom furnaces at Rió Tinto are significant. Yet overemphasis of this point simply reproduces Diodorus’ rhetorical portrait of simple, indigenous Iberians, who were outdone by the superior means of greedy but civilized invaders. In Rió Tinto the Roman period was not marked by significant technological innovations and this is unsurprising, given the scale of indigenous production achieved in the seventh and sixth 298 García Cano and Ruiz Valderas 1995, 135, 146. 299 Berrocal Caparrós and Ramallo Asensio 1994, 87; Martínez and Almero 2005, 52. 300 Diod. 5.36-8; Blázquez Martínez 1989, 159; Bendal a Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003. 78 centuries.301 More important than using new mining technology was the ability to organize labor and resources to utilize existing technologies. 302 Both the Carthaginian and Roman states were well equipped for that task, producing increases in aggregate production. Mining operations may have been the single most important economic element of the Barcid empire. The extraction of rare metals enabled the Carthaginian state to finance a large army through issues of coinage, which circulated almost entirely within Carthaginian controlled areas of Iberia. The logistical costs associated with mining would have precipitated further economic activity. Such costs included the provisioning of equipment and tools as well as fuel for smelting, along with transport of ore and other materials. 303 Here I conclude with evidence for the use of slaves in particular and the implications of exploiting this local human resource. Slavery seems to have been a significant economic institution in Barcid Iberia, especially as a form of labor for both construction projects and mining operations. Slavery is a well- attested institution in the city of Carthage but there is little direct evidence for slaves in Iberia due to the usual paucity of literary sources and the limited archaeological visibility of slaves. 304 A couple of passages refer to Carthaginians enslaving defeated Iberians. Livy explicitly reports that the survivors of Saguntum were enslaved as plunder for the soldiers.305 Cornelius Nepos seems to suggest that Hamilcar transferred slaves back to Carthage, “he enriched all of Africa with 301 G. D. B. Jones 1980, 159; Pérez Macías and Delgado Domínguez 2007, 293; for Tartessian mining, Fernández Jurado 2002. 302 Kehoe 2007, 567–8; for isotopic analysis Greenland Ice cores for pollution from Carthaginian and Roman mining from pollution see: Rosman et al. 1997. 303 Kehoe 2007, 167–8; Wilson 2012. 304 For general discussion (Huss 1985, 499–500, esp. note 40 for epigraphic evidence; Tsirkin 1986, 129– 30; 135–6. According to Justin in the fourth century Hanno the Great could raise an army of 20,000 slaves (Just. 21.4.6). For steps forward concerning the archaeological visibility of slaves in the Roman world, see Joshel and Petersen 2014. 305 Liv 21.15.2. 79 horses, arms, men, [and] money” (equis, armis, viris, pedunia totam locupletavit Africam).306 There is similar evidence for the enslavement of captives in Carthage’s wars against the Greeks in Sicily and Roman citizens too were enslaved by Carthage during the Punic Wars. 307 Rome’s second treaty with Carthage assumes slaving too, with provisions for Carthaginian enslavement of inhabitants of Latins. 308 Together the sources suggest that Barcid generals may have commonly enslaved captives, particularly after punitive campaigns.309 Scholars assume that slave labor was significant for mining operations. 310 It would be surprising if a slave using economic power such as Carthage diverged drastically from other Mediterranean polities where mining slaves are better attested, such as Athens or Roman Iberia.311 Polybius’ remark about the tens of thousands of miners near Carthago Nova in Roman times gives an impression of the potential scale of operations during Barcid times. 312 Diodorus Siculus offers an extended passage about mining in which the Carthaginian use of slaves seems implicit.313 Diodorus censures the Romans for exploiting slave labor in contemporary mining, in contrast to the former practices of indigenous Iberians, who diligently worked freely for themselves. Diodorus then criticizes Carthaginian greed for opening the Iberian mines in the first place, noting how all contemporary mines had originally been opened by the covetous Carthaginians. Both Roman and Carthaginian operations are contrasted with the small scale labor of indigenous precursors. Carthaginian slavery required little comment perhaps because it was understood as a given concomitant to mining. 306 Nep. Ham. 4.1. 307 E.g. in Sicily see Diod. 13.57-8, 20.69.2; Huss 1985, 500; Valerius Maximus reports Flamininus freeing 2,000 Romans in Greece who had been enslaved during the Punic Wars (Val Max. 5.2.6). 308 Pol. 3.24.5-6. 309 E.g., Hasdrubal’s campaign against the Orissi to avenge Hamilcar’s death, Diod. 25.12.1. 310 Tsirkin 1986, 136; López Castro 1995, 75; González Wagner 1999, 280, 288 . 311 For Athens: Kyrtatas 2011, 100–1; Rihll 2011, 68–9, Laurium: (Lauffer 1979). 312 Pol. 34.9.8. 313 Diod. 5.36, 38.3. 80 Incorporation of local captives into the labor force would have been efficient. Without denying the possible import of free labor, it is probable that the Carthaginians made some use of the available supply of local slaves from conquest for such large scale mining and construction projects. The Romans only turned to alternative forms of labor in the second century for their mining needs because of problems with the slave supply. 314 Though there remain questions about the extent to which Carthaginian used slaves, there is no question about the significance of mining itself, which served as a cornerstone for financing imperial forces and projects. 1.3 “COLONIZATION” & MOBILITY The violence of campaigns and the opportunities of empire relocated local people and attracted immigrants, giving rise to new bases of consumption and demanding intensified exchange. Though Carthaginian colonists were important, with the exception of those at Carthago Nova, they elude identification. Laborers and soldiers, from local communities and abroad, also generated significant demands as consumers. I begin with the challenge of identifying Carthaginian colonists and then turn to the presences of laborers and soldiers and their economic impacts as consumers. Carthaginians settled in Iberia to enjoy new opportunities. 315 Many of the 10,000 citizens mentioned at Carthago Nova carved out productive niches in the urban or peri -urban economy.316 Some literary sources attest to Carthaginian colonization for this period as well as in earlier times. While there is little reason to doubt that additional colonization occurred, there can be little certainty in locating such colonists. It is difficult to distinguish between the exchange of Carthaginian goods and the presence of actual Carthaginian immigrants based on 314 Shepherd 1993. 315 Aristotle notes that state-sponsored colonization was a significant institution: Aristot. Pol. 2.1273b. 316 Erdkamp 2012. 81 material evidence alone. Besides the foundations at Carthago Nova and perhaps El Tossal de Manises, it is difficult to identify colonists elsewhere.317 Two literary sources refer to people called “Libyphoenicians” who came from Africa and settled in Iberia during the fifth or fourth centuries. The author of a Greek periegesis from the second century, so-called Pseudo-Scymnus, states that the Libyphoenicians (λιβυφοίνικες) from Carthage founded a colony on the shores of the Sardian Sea, near the Tartessians, Iberians, and Bebryces.318 The other reference comes from Avienus writing in the fourth century CE, who reports that fierce “Libyphoenicians” (Libyophoenices) lived among the Massieni, the Cilbicene, and the Tartessians, near the Chrysus River, identified with the modern Guadiaro River. 319 Pomponius Mela reports the immigration of “Phoenicians from Africa” ( ex Africa Phoenices) to his native community of Tingentera, though he does not use the ethnic phrase Libyphoenici ans. Avienus locates Tingentera near Carteia. Taken together these references may very well preserve memories of actual migrations, but no discernible traces of the pre -Barcid immigrants have yet been discovered in excavations. 320 Diodorus claims that Libyphoenicians intermarried with Carthaginians and they appear to have been under Carthaginian control by the time of the Second Punic War, as both Polybius and Livy also mention Libyphoenicians among the soldiers that Hannibal transferred between Africa and Iberia.321 Modern scholars have been curious about the ethnicity of these people and their relationship with Carthage.322 At present, attempts to locate the Libyphoenicians through 317 The communis opinion understands Carthago Nova as a colony, e.g., González Wagner 1999, 282; El Tossal de Manises is admittedly less certain. 318 Pseud. Symn. V.195-200. 319 Avienus, Ora Maritima 419-24; Ferrer Albelda 2000, 423. 320 Mela 2.96. 321 Pol. 3.33.14-16, Liv. 21.22.2-3. Consider also Livy’s account of the Libyo-Phoenician commander Muttines of Hippacra, Liv. 25.40.5-11, 26.21.15, 40.3, 27.5.6-7, 8.18. 322 López Castro 1992; Monedero 1995. 82 archaeological, numismatic, and toponyms have been unconvincing. 323 Together these remarks may very well reflect genuine movements of people, some even under Carthaginian direction, but the tendency of the sources toward geographical vagueness renders it difficult to locate these peoples archaeologically. Yet it is also possible that the sources have merely preserved perceptions of Punicized communities in Iberia that may have arisen from any number of factors unrelated to Carthage. 324 Direct literary references to colonization during the Barcid period are more revealing. One of the few certainties available to us is that beneath modern Cartagena rest the remains of a Barcid foundation. 325 Carthago Nova secures a fundamental point of comparison for considering the material remains of Carthaginian empire. Other references to Carthaginian foundations are far less revealing. Diodorus attests to Hamilcar’s founding of a settlement called Akra Leuke and Hasdrubal founding a second settlement after Carthago Nova. Akra Leuke has commonly been identified as El Tossal de Manises, though it could just as well be Hasdrubal’s second foundation, or even another foundation entirely. 326 Definitive identification is not possible, though a convincing point against this identification is the lack of evidence for Hamilcar 323 Carretero argues that agricultural innovations and the intensification of olive oil production in the territory of Gadir was inspired by Carthaginian colonists, but there is little positive evid ence for Libyo- phoenicians at Cerro Naranja or other nearby settlements; Carretero Poblete 2007, 196–7; for critique see Ferrer Albelda 2000; Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 84. Toponyms that appear in Iberia with the OBA/UBA elements observed in African settlements provide more convincing evidence for the general migration of people from Africa to Iberia, but it cannot be proven that Carthage had any hand in it Carretero Poblete 2007, 181–201; for review and critique of the numismatic arguments about Libyo- phoenician mints see Jiménez 2014. 324 Ferrer Albelda 2000, 430. 325 See above. 326 First identified in 1889 by Roque Chabás through philological concordance with Roman Lucentum and the white limestone cliffs in the nearby sierras Grossa y de San Cristòfol, Chabás 1889; supported by Meltzer 1896, 401; for historiography see Sala Sellés 2010, 934–36. 83 having ever reached the coasts of southeastern Iberia.327 But that leaves no obvious alternatives for Akra Leuke and García-Bellido’s suggestion of Carmo is improvable. 328 Hannibal’s troop movements may have inadvertently led to natives from Africa settling in Iberia after the Second Punic War. Appian offers more direct reference to colonization under Hannibal. Appian claims that Hannibal settled individuals called “Blastophoenicians” (βλαστοφοίνικας) from Africa in southeastern Iberia.329 Finally, the possibility of military colonies for soldiers is implied in Livy’s account of Hannibal promising land in Iberia to his soldiers.330 While Appian’s Iberian account has been shown to be rather unreliable, it is possible that Appian reflects a genuine fact gleaned from his source material, which would accord w ith Hannibal’s promise of settlement in Livy’s work, as well as the city founding of Hannibal’s predecessors.331 Aristotle notes that in the fourth century the Carthaginians were in the habit of sending citizen colonists to dependent cities, and it is also possible that this tradition may have been practiced in Barcid Iberia. 332 The literary sources and evidence from toponyms give reason to believe that communities migrated from Africa to Iberia before the Barcid period, and Carthage may have had a hand in some instances. The literary sources also attest to colonization under the direction of Carthaginian generals during our period. Together the remarks about specific foundations and settlement in general suggest that colonization was an important economic factor. Aside from Carthago Nova and perhaps El Tossal de Manises identification remains elusive, but 327 Sumner 1967, 209–11; García-Bellido 2010, 203–5. 328 García-Bellido 2010, 205–6. 329 App. Iber. 56. 330 Liv. 21.45.5; noted by López Castro 1995, 76. 331 For an exhaustive list of inaccuracies concerning those matters, see Eckstein 2012, 224–5. 332 Arist. Pol. 6.5.1320b.4. 84 colonists may be considered a potentially significant body of manpower and consumers. Laborers and soldiers were probably more significant. New foundations introduced new bases for consumption, and the overall influx of soldiers and laborers affected existing urban centers as well, fueling much of the exchange I consider below. Non-agricultural laborers formed one important consumer base. Free or unfree, skilled or unskilled, all individuals who devoted the majority of their energy to non-agricultural production had to be fed. Miners, considered earlier, were probably the most significant among them. Some free laborers may have devoted only portions of downtime from farming to do work for Carthage, but the sources attest to the presence of skilled specialists and I have already encountered traces of their workspaces. Polybius reports the presence of some 2,000 artisans in Carthago Nova alone. Mining communities probably generated considerable consumption demands. Polybius’ account of tens of thousands of miners for the Roman mines of Carthago Nova, mentioned above, gives an impression of the potential scales involved. 333 Similarly large communities may also have been employed in the mining centers of the Sierra Morena and Rio Tinto. The sources do not permit an accurate counting of soldiers but at least reflect the growth of the army as Carthaginian power expanded. 334 There is no reference to the size of the initial force with which Hamilcar landed, though based on the forces available during and at the end of the Mercenary War, Dexter Hoyos’ proposal of around 20,000 is plausible. 335 For Hasdrubal’s reign Diodorus Siculus records that Hasdrubal put 50,000 seasoned men into the field to avenge Hamilcar’s death, and that he raised the number to 60,000 after founding 333 Pol. 34.9.8. 334 Scullard 1989, 41–2. 335 Hoyos 2003, 56. 85 Carthago Nova.336 Hannibal exchanged some 14,000 infantry between Iberia and Africa, with an additional 10,000 left to guard the Ebro Region, and departed Iberia with an army of 90,000 infantry, a number Polybius read from an inscription Hannibal erected in Italy.337 Even allowing for exaggeration, conquest certainly increased Carthage’s military capacity. At times of intense campaigning there may have been several tens of thousands of soldiers to maintain. The navy, cavalry, elephant core, and ancillary logistical costs were also substantial. The earliest Barcid coinage depicts warships, suggesting that at least some of the 50 ships that Hannibal left in Iberia had been in service under Hamilcar and Hasdrubal. 338 According to Diodorus, under Hasdrubal the cavalry reached 8,000 and the elephants numbered 200. With Hannibal’s departure, some 3,500 cavalry and 50 elephants were left in Iberia. The state maintained the elephants, though logistics for soldiers are not clear. Whether soldiers were fed out of their own pocket or via the state matters less for our purposes than the overall economic demand their presence meant for local economies and foreign exporters. It is not necessary to quantify precisely the material requirements of these forces to appreciate the overal l demands they would have generated, especially when forces were augmented for major campaigns. Erdkamp has argued that private markets would have been an important for ancient armies in addition to state organized supply depots. The usual needs of a professional army should also be noted, such as repairs for soldiers’ gear, transportation costs, and the supply and maintenance of pack animals. 339 The aggregate maintenance costs of these forces, despite fluctuation, engendered sizable and persistent bases of consumption. 336 Diod. 25.12; cf. Pol. 11.20 for Hasdrubal Gisco’s army of 70,000 during the Second Punic War. 337 On Hannibal’s inscription at the Lacinian Cape, Pol. 3.33.5-18, 28.46.15-16, Jaeger 2006; troops for Hanno, Pol. 3.35.5, Liv. 21.23.1-3; summary of sources for Hannibal’s forces: Quesada Sanz 2005, 137–8. 338 Pol. 3.33.14, Hannibal left 50 quinqueremes, 2 quadrirmes, and 5 triremes, but only 32 of the quinqueremes and triremes were fully manned. 339 (Erdkamp 1998; Herz 2007). 86 On the whole these new consumer bases likely raised aggregate consumption demands in Iberia. Soldiers supplied by allies and perhaps local mercenaries may have returned to sow their crops after campaign seasons, but foreign troops likely created year-round demands. Labor communities, especially those with high proportions of slaves, were less likely to have produced their own food. And even if the number of colonists besides those at Carthago Nova was relatively marginal, the total number of colonists would have been several thousand and perhaps more if Polybius’ record of 10,000 prisoners at Carthago Nova is accurate. To meet these needs, Carthaginians exported goods to Iberia on an unprecedented scale while production and exchange among local communities intensified. So far I have explored how the Carthaginians exploited and redirected the human and material resources of local communities through tribute, mining, and slavery. The acquisition and management of these resources was essential for the maintenance of military forces through which Carthage established and maintained dominance. But to emphasize only this interdependence of military strength and resource extraction oversimplifies the complexities of the imperial economy. Carthago Nova provides a useful case study because it encompasses the range of interrelated economic activities that were generated by empire. Carthago Nova was constructed as a fundamental hub for the systems of exchange, consumption, and redistribution upon which the empire depended. 87 PART 2: CARTHAGO NOVA AS ECONOMIC HUB OF EMPIRE “Hoc arx, hoc horreum aerarium armamentarium” “This is their citadel, this is their granary, treasury, and armory” –Livy 26.43.8 Livy’s remark sums up well the military functions that Carthago Nova served (considered in chapter four) but hardly does justice to the city’s economic importance. Carthago Nova was far more than a mere treasury: it produced wealth. The city served an indispensable role in the supply and control of regional mining operations, as I have shown. Through an extensive organization of labor and resources, the city was outfitted with an ambitious infrastructure and protected by immense walls (fig. 2.9). Furthermore, it was built to be a key nexus of regional exchange and redistribution, serving the needs of its own inhabitants but also crucial for the further distribution of goods along the coasts to other communities as well as to pockets of consumers in Guadalquivir Valley. While Carthaginians at the Metropolis benefited from furnishing for Carthago Nova, remains also show significant exchange with the allied communities of Gadir and Ebusus. Carthago Nova at once models the breadth of the economic impact that empire generated while also revealing itself as the primary hub of the Barcid economy. 2.1: Building the Economic Hub To appreciate the scale of building at Carthago Nova, an overview of previous urbanization in Iberia is useful. Carthago Nova was located on the southern periphery of the ancient region of Contestania, bounded roughly to the north by the Jucar River, where several of the other sites I examine below were located (fig. 2.8). 340 Inhabitants had been in direct contact 340 Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 56; I employ Contestania merely as a geographic entity here; the ethnic identities of its inhabitants do not concern this discussion. 88 with Phoenician colonists since the eight century and Phoenician commerce had a si gnificant impact on indigenous urbanization as early as the sixth century, most visibly reflected by the systems of hill forts that began to arise. 341 Over the course of the fifth through third centuries the area saw a new phase of demographic expansion, engendering larger settlements and increasingly hierarchical social structures. By the third century large settlements had arisen, perhaps functioning as regional capitals over “archaic states.” 342 Such regional centers in eastern Iberia ranged as large as 10 hectares, with Ullastret in Catalonia setting the high bar at 15. 343 In Contestania settlements were smaller, with La Serreta embracing an area of 5.5 hectares. 344 Amid these social and economic developments, Hasdrubal founded the Carthago Nova in 229/228, with walls embracing an estimated area of 40 hectares. 345 This massive foundation dwarfed regional oppida and Punic communities alike. Prior to the Carthaginian foundation the site had been inhabited by Iberians who probably traded with Carthaginians and may even have been integrated peacefully into the new city.346 Wares from southern Italy datable to the first half of the third century seem to have arrived through Carthaginian intermediaries; local ceramics appear throughout the Barcid city. Previous structures show signs of continued use into the Barcid era without signs of destruction or violent transition. 347 While evidence is insufficient to assess this transition more clearly, 341 For Phoenician Fonteta see, Rouillard et al. 2007; for Phoenician commerce see Carme Belarte in Dietler and López-Ruiz 2009, 93; 101–2; hill forts in general: Grau Mira 2003, 266. 342 Sanmartí Grego 2009. 343 Sanmartí Grego 2009, 24. 344 Grau Mira 2003, 271–5; Sanmartí Grego 2009, 24–25. Its walls may be contemporaneous with our period, but evidence is insufficient to relate this building activity to the Carthaginian presence. 345 Pol. 2.13.1-2, 10.10; Diod. 25.12; Bendala Galán 1989, 142; Ramallo Asensio 2010, 231. 346 Ros Sala 1989, 9–11; Ruiz Valderas 1999. 347 Ramallo Asensio and Ruiz Valderas in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 531–3. 89 peaceful transition and integration at least accords well with the tradition of Hasdrubal’s amicable relations with indigenous communities.348 Carthago Nova stood on a hilly peninsula protected by a lagoon to the north while the inlet to the south formed one of the best natural harbors in Iberia (fig. 2.9). 349 This topography afforded excellent protection. The only direct terrestrial entrance was through the isthmus on its eastern side, though a causeway was constructed on the western side. The intramural area embraced five hills, which required expansive installations of artificial terracing throughout the city, carving out roads and alleys for public and private spaces upon and through the hills (fig. 2.10).350 Excavations since the 1980s have uncovered three sections of the original Punic wall. The first portion is a thirty meter stretch of the eastern wall, located to the south of the Calle San José (figs. 2.11 & 2.12), with a north/south alignment .351 Associated ceramics and Hispano- Carthaginian coins secure its creation to our period. 352 The city was enclosed by two parallel walls of beveled ashlars in opus quadratum, joined by perpendicular inner walls in opus africanum to form casemates for the storage of arms, provisions, and equipment. 353 These compartments were arranged in sets of threes, with access to the middle compartment through the interior wall and entrance to the wings from the middle room. This contrasts with the stretch of wall excavated on the slope of Cerro Molinete in the northeast of the city, with an east/west alignment, also formed of parallel walls connected by 348 González Wagner 2010, 64. Pol. 2.13.1, 36.1, Diod. 25.11.1, Liv. 21.2.5. 349 Noguera Celdrán 2013, 138; Martínez Andreu 2004, 12. 350 Pol. 10.10.6-12. (Martínez Andreu 2004, 15; Asensio and Sánchez 2007, 6). 351 Martín Camino and Belmonte Marín 1993. 352 Lechuga Galindo 1991; Marín Baño 1997. 353 Asensio and Sánchez 2007, 8. 90 casemates but with adobe bricks instead of great limestone ashlars. 354 This wall shows signs of hastier construction, perhaps deemed a lower priority due to the natural protection of the lagoon blocking terrestrial access, while the wall on the isthmus was expected to take the brunt of an assault and withstand siege engines. 355 A third stretch of wall in the southwest of the city may also be part of the original system. 356 Building these defenses required an enormous investment of labor and materials. The ambitious system of roads, hydraulic system, and ports contributed to the well- being of its inhabitants and to the commercial vitality of the city. The significance of intra-mural terracing and the sewer system is easily underestimated. Terracing carved pathways through the city and framed subsequent construction, in some places laying foundations for pathways four and half meters wide. Some of the terrace walls utilized ashlars and were built in opus africanum, projecting as deep as three meters down into hillsides. 357 Several stretches of the terracing have been recovered revealing section that framed the main east/west axis of the city, upon which the Via Augusta rested in Roman times (fig. 2.13.6-7, 10, 13).358 A sewer system was established beneath these structures, remains of which have been found on the southern slope of the Cerro de Molinete and a drainage spout. 359 The original port facilities are less visible, with 354 This seems to be the wall that Scipio Africanus successfully scaled to capture the city, Noguera Celdrán, Madrid Balanza, and Velasco Estrada 2011, 495–97. 355 Noguera Celdrán, Madrid Balanza, and Velasco Estrada 2011, 498–501; Polybius states this was the stronger portion of the wall, Pol. 10.13.7. 356 Poorly published, only mentioned in passing; “similarity” to eastern wall: Ramallo Asensio 2010, 214. 357 E.g., Cerro de Molinete, Noguera Celdrán 2013, 148. 358 Plaza San Ginés Martín Camino and Roldán Bernal 1994, 254–5, fig. 2.9.6; Calle Palas Antolinos Marín 2006, 101–2, fig. 2.9.7; Calle Duque 2 Alonso Mardones and Zapata Parra 2005, 281–2, fig. 2.9.10; and possibly at Calle Duque 8-12, Pecete Serrano and Díez Matilla 2005, 273, fig. 2.9.13. 359 Roldán Bernal 2002, 281. 91 possible remains scarcely identified. 360 Overall a careful and ambitious civic plan emerges, offering productive opportunities to colonists, whose activities are likewise detectable. Remains of productive structures suggest that the urban inhabitants were busy. Polybius notes that the majority were occupied with productive ends: “the population was exceedingly large but composed mostly of craftsmen, artisans, and fishermen” ( τὸ δ’ ἄλλο πλῆθος ὅτι πολὺ μὲν εἴη διαφερόντως ἐν αὐτῇ, πᾶν δὲ δημιουργικὸν καὶ βάναυσον καὶ θαλαττουργὸν).361 Polybius’ “θαλαττουργὸν” may reflect the degree of specialization. Archaeological evidence attests to fisheries: fishhooks and other fishing gear have been located in the northern sector of the city near the lagoon (fig. 2.13.17). 362 If not the booming industry of Strabo’s time, these fishermen filled an important consumptive niche in feeding the city. Remains of multiple metallurgical workshops have also been uncovered from the western slope of the Cerro Molinete and west of Cerro de Despeñaperros. 363 Near the workshop on Cerro Molinete are structures of a more general “artisanal” nature with remains of a workbench. The finds near the Cerro de Despeñaperros include two workshops on its northwestern side, with remains of charcoal, ash, and fragments of cups. Another metallurgical workshop has been identified further to the west of the same hill. 364 In Polybius’ record of the divinities after which hills were named, this particular hill was named after Hephaestus, a possible syncretism for Punic Kusor. 365 Assessing the identity of those who worked in these structures is difficult. Aristotle attests to Carthaginians sending citizen colonists abroad. Polybius distinguishes between the 360 Possible traces of Punic port: Roldán Bernal 2002, 278. 361 Pol. 10.8.5. Polybius and Livy number the citizens at about 10,000 (Pol. 10.17.6 -10, Liv 47.2) and distinguish the “workmen” (χειροτένας/opifices) from the general body of citizens; Livy numbers the workmen at 2,000. 362 Ramallo and Ruiz in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 540. Lowe 2000, 48–9. Pol. 10.8.7; Strab. 3.4.6. 363 Cerro Molinete: Cerro de Despeñaperros: 364 Madrid Balanza 2004, 34–6; Madrid Balanza 2005, 266. 365 Pol. 10.10.11; Ramallo Asensio and Ruiz Valderas in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 541. 92 “workmen” (χειροτένας) and the “citizens” (πολιτικοὺς) of the city. 366 Perhaps the latter were strictly those who owned land within Carthago Nova’s chora while the former were simple laborers, though such distinctions probably oversimplify social complexities. Epigraphy at Carthage itself attests to the social prominence of ironsmiths as state engineers, some even paralleling judge status. 367 Because ironsmiths were so valued by the state, they may have enjoyed similar prominence in Carthago Nova. The presence of skilled metalworkers is hardly surprising, given the mining operations and needs of the Carthaginian army. Taken together, the remains of fisheries and other industrial structures, along with the array of investments in infrastructure, reveal that Carthago Nova was built to be a prime economic engine of the new empire, offering a diversity of productive opportunities for its inhabitants. These inhabitants enjoyed goods arriving from all over the western Mediterranean. 2.2: A Nascent Trading Nexus in the Western Mediterranean Carthago Nova rested at the nexus of various trading circuits. Here the Circuit of the Straits from the west converged with the route from Ibiza from the east, along with routes from North Africa and ultimately Southern Italy.368 The study of Carthaginian interregional trade begins at Carthage. Ramón Torres’ monograph, the essential starting point for studies of Punic amphorae, synthesizes much of the material available by the mid-1990s. Subsequent excavation in both Tunisia and Spain have essentially corroborated and added nuance to his overall framework.369 For Carthage, excavations at Bir Messaouda have uncovered levels pertaining to the Barcid era and sequences down to the earliest history of the city. 370 From about 350 to 250 366 Arist. Pol. 2.11. 367 Kaufman 2014, 125. 368 Aubet Semmler 2009, 204–6. 369 Ramón Torres 1995. 370 For some summary of recent excavations at Carthage: Docter and Chelbi 2007. 93 one local amphora type dominates stratigraphic sequences, Type T.4.2.1.5. 371 Yet exports of local products were less frequent at this time than they became in the Barcid peri od. The distribution of Western Greek and Sardinian amphorae in Carthaginian spheres of influence in North Africa and Western Sicily from the sixth through third centuries reveals the importance of intermediation. Bechtold argues that, “Carthage’s unquestionable economic power and vitality during the late sixthto fourth centuries BCE was not due to its own extra-regional amphorae export, but rather to its extraordinary role as a middleman in international overseas trade.” 372 The loss of hegemony over Sicilian and Sardinian trade routes forced Carthaginians to shift their strategies westward toward Iberia. In the second half of the third century significantly more Carthaginian exports to Iberia appear and new forms were used. From about 250/225 to 175 the type T.5.2.3.1 appears; its chronology is partly established through its prominence in the Punic levels of Carthago Nova and absence from the final levels of Kerkouane. 373 Other types present in the sequences dating to 250-200 are T.7.2.1s and 7.4.2.1s, which likewise proliferate among Iberian coastal communities at this time. In terms of table wares, the high volume of Attic imports of the fourth century give way to fine Black Glaze wares from Italy. 374 Intermediation remained important and Carthaginians redistributed them to Iberia, along with North African exports. These amphorae types offer useful diagnostics for considering the pulse of Carthaginian commerce in Iberia, especially when combined with numismatic and stratigraphic contexts. The predominance of Carthaginian imports at Carthago Nova demonstrates how Carthaginian entrepreneurs served the consumption needs of Carthago Nova’s population as 371 Bechtold and Docter 2008, 46; its appearance in the final levels of Kerkouane helps establish its upper chronological limit of around 250, Ramón Torres 1995, 189. 372 Bechtold 2013, 97. 373 Ramón Torres 1995, 198. 374 Docter 2010, 38, 46. 94 well as those of other locales to which they were redistributed. The passage between Carthago Nova and the African coast was relatively easy, according to Polybius and Livy. 375 Excavation from the city’s earliest levels testify to the high level of imports from North Africa as well as imports both from Punic allies and from Southern Italy, likely through Carthaginian intermediaries. This material reveals the consumptive and redistributive practices at work in the city but also provides important points of comparison for assessing the circulation of goods within other regional communities. In the Calle Serreta, that shows signs of fire attributed to Scipio’s siege in 209, ceramics of Central Mediterranean provenance make up more than half of the finds. 376 Better published material is available for the excavations from the Plaza de San Ginés on the northern slope of the Cerro de la Concepción (fig. 13.13), with strata related to the earliest sequence of urbanization under Hasdrubal. 377 The only firmly identifiable coins are 13 Hispano-Carthaginian bronzes, all of the type attributed to Hannibal’s governorship of Iberia from 221-218.378 From the absence of any later coinage among the identifiable material, one can tentatively suggest a terminus ante quem of 209. The strata yielded a large number of identifiable amphorae, totaling 240 (fig. 2.14) of which Punic Central-Mediterranean types, including T.5.2.3.1s, compose 33%. Wares from Magna Graecia, Ibiza, and the Circuit of the Straits each account for about one fifth of the total.379 Local amphorae are scarce, amounting to only 1.2% of the assemblage, indicating that extra-regional imports were very significant. 375 Pol. 10.8.2; Livy 26.42.4. 376 Martín Camino 1998, 9. 377 Ruiz Valderas 2008, 669. 378 Martín Camino 1998, 20; also present is a bronze perhaps from Carthage itself, and ten unidentifiable pieces. 379 Martín Camino records “almost 22%” for Ibiza, 21.5% for Greco-Italic; he does not provide a number for those from the Circulo de Estrecho, I derive presume about 22%, based on the difference of the other recorded groups. 95 A significant amount of table ware was also imported to the city. Ruiz Valderas has tabulated the total finds from Plaza de San Ginés, the eastern sector of the Punic wall (La Milagrosa), and the Calle Saura 29 that has the destruction level attributed Scipio’s siege. Campanian A was much in vogue at this time, accounting for 58.2% of the black wares in La Milagrosa and 65% in the destruction level of Calle Saura. Fragments of several of thes e wares from La Milagrosa are also inscribed with Punic letters, hinting at their consumption among the Punic populace. 380 Ibizan wares were also significant, composing 36.7% in La Milagrosa and 29% in Plaza de San Ginés. The small remainder of wares from workshops in Italy, the Circuit of the Straits, and Carthage, likely arrived through Carthaginian channels. 381 The high percentage of Central Mediterranean amphorae is unsurprising. The city likely housed a significant population of colonists from Carthage or its environs, whose tastes would have been best satisfied by familiar products of Tunisian provenance. The continued presence of Punic cooking ware throughout the second century demonstrates the persistence of Punic culinary preferences, only showing signs more typical of Italic pallets in the first century. 382 The imports from the regions of Ebusus and Gadir demonstrate that each of these allies carved out significant commercial niches in the Barcid city. The same trend is demonstrated in the Barcid strata underneath the Roman Amphitheatre, where five of the seventeen amphorae arrived from the Circuit of the Straits and three of them from Ibiza. 383 A lot of small coinage was dropped in this city. In addition to the thirteen Hispano- Carthaginian bronzes in Plaza de St. Ginés, 21 more examples come from the Punic wall at La Milagrosa. More are likely represented within the 48 illegible coins, given that Hispano- 380 Martín Camino and Belmonte Marín 1993, 164–5. 381 Ruiz Valderas 2008, 671–81. 382 Pérez Ballester 2008. 383 Pérez Ballester and Caparrós 2010, 125. 96 Carthaginian bronzes constitute about 60% of identifiable finds in these contexts, with Roman Republican coins coming next at 21%. 384 Of these 34 coins, 33 belong to Villaronga’s class VIII, which Hannibal began minting in 221. 385 The absence of silver issues reflects the normal patterns contemporary recovery. Carthago Nova seems to have been immersed in the small coin economy it had sparked.386 The quantity of bronze coins and their dispersion among other Iberian sites suggests their ready use for a variety of small scale transactions, beyond simply administrative usage. Given the overall importance of Carthago Nova as a commercial and redistributive hub, these bronze issues might reflect some commercial vision and initiative on the part of local minting authorities. Given the economic significance of Carthago Nova, it is unsurprising that the Second Punic War in Iberia turned against Carthage when Scipio captured it. I have demonstrated the economic import of its construction and how circuits of exchange converged there. In part 4 I examine exchange among other communities and those in eastern Iberia elucidate Carthago Nova’s import as a redistributive center. Before turning to that exchange, I scrutinize foundation and construction in other areas of Iberia, which may be linked to the Barcid presence. 384 56 total among the anci ent coins Lechuga Galindo 1991. 385 Villaronga 1973, 121. 386 Lechuga Galindo 1991, 163; García-Bellido 1993, 323. 97 PART 3: SETTLEMENT FOUNDING AND WALL BUILDNG Other Barcid foundations and contemporary wall building among local inhabitants can be detected based on ceramics and coins related to the construction. Scholars have typically understood this construction in terms of Carthaginian strategies of military and territorial control, while too little consideration has been afforded to their economic significance and the potential for local initiative in wall building. Each project demanded substantial investments of manpower and materials, and so, reveal an important way in which the Carthaginian presence affected the mobilization of local economic resources. Furthermore, most of these new structures themselves served economic functions, with significance for production, redistribution, and or consumption. I consider the building at Los Nietos near Carthago Nova and then foundation at El Tossal de Manises (Alicante), an important outpost in the region and maybe a colony too; then to Iberian La Serreta, which interacted with Tossal de Manises and expanded too. In the southwest I study building among Punic allies, where urban centers in both Carteia (San Roque) and Gadir (Cádiz) expand at this time with architectural innovations resembling those employed among Carthaginian foundations. Los Nietos About 20 km east of Carthago Nova, the Carthaginians may have renovated the indigenous settlement at Los Nietos for mining. Founded in the fifth century and abandoned in the fourth, the site was reused briefly during the late third century. Carthaginian amphorae (T.5.2.3.1s) are prominent among its ceramics, which resemble those at Carthago Nova. 387 Portions of the eastern wall have been excavated, revealing remains of two bastions possibly 387 García Cano 1997; Ruiz Valderas 2008, 676. 98 added during the Barcid period and metallurgical workshops have also been uncovered with signs of contemporary (re)use. Overall, Los Nietos reveals a small community that was likely subsumed and retooled to serve the economic ends of empire, a likely reality for many settlements near Barcid mining centers. El Tossal De Manises El Tossal de Manises (Roman Lucentum) was founded upon a hill near the coast in the Bay of Albufereta, about 3 km north of modern Alicante. This settlement was likely founded or re-founded by the Carthaginians in the late third century to consolidate control over the coasts and central Contestania, perhaps serving as an advanced defense for Carthago Nova. Prior to recent excavation, there were no stratigraphic sequences for its pre -Roman phase, so the necropolis beneath the hill was critical for considering the pre -Roman population (fig. 2.15).388 Its goods were a mix of local objects and Punic imports, spanning the fifth to third centuries. Scholars of the twentieth century argued about the identity of the inhabitants, with Carthaginian identification popular among scholarship of the first half of the century and indigenous identities championed by later scholars. 389 Proponents of its Punic character saw the settlement as Hamilcar’s colony of Akra Leuke.390 While I find identification as a Barcid foundation to be likely, it is not necessary to prove that it was Hamilcar’s Akra Leuke to assess the settlement’s economic success. Yet the objects from the necropolis alone do not permit identifying the settlement as Carthaginian or even Punic. The necropolis may instead have been used by inhabitants just across the bay in the nearby site of Tossal de les Basses, who could have obtained Punic objects in exchange for 388 Olcina Doménech in Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 158–9. 389 For summary of trends in research see: Sala Sellés 2010, 934–41. 390 Diod. 25.10.3; Liv. 24.41.3. For discussion, including often neglected counter points to the communis opinio, see: Sumner 1967, 209–11; Scullard 1989, 23; Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 230–1. 99 silver.391 Moving forward, excavations carried out from 1994 to 1996 provide direct knowledge about the likely Punic settlement at Tossal de Manises (fig. 2.16). 392 During the late third century a wall between 1 and 1.2 meters thick was constructed atop the hill, embracing an area of about 2.5 hectares. Remains of the wall, interspersed with cisterns and towers, have been excavated from its eastern and southern sectors. As at Carthago Nova, some of the wall’s interiors are divided by casemates to form three storage rooms. Some towers may also have been designed for mounting artillery. A proteichisma was constructed on the eastern side, serving as an additional line of defense. Associated ceramics date to the late third or early second century and correlate with those at Carthago Nova. 393 Older material such as Attic wares may reflect the pre-Barcid habitation, but have only been recovered from secondary contexts, such as fill for the proteichisma. The preexisting settlement might exist on the northern summit, currently unexcavated while virgin soil beneath the new walls and within the settlement supports an ex novo foundation. Signs of violence include burnt layers in the northwestern and southwestern portions of the wall, as well as the sudden collapse of two cisterns, all with ceramics datable to the late third and early second centuries. 394 The cisterns are one of the stronger signs of Punic elements in the construction, particularly their use of limestone mortar, a Punic technique attested nowhere else in pre - Roman Contestania except for Illeta dels Banyets. Inside cistern two, seven artillery balls were found, with petrological signatures matching rock quarried in the region of Carthago Nova. The excavators believe this artillery was furnished directly from Carthago Nova’s arsenal, further 391 Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 233; Verdú Parra in Olcina Doménech 2009, 37–8; Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 251. 392 Olcina Doménech 2009. 393 Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 234; Sanmartí Grego 2004, 240–1. 394 Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 232–3, 240. 100 supporting the interpretation that some of the towers were designed for mounting artillery. 395 The artillery tower is taken to be a distinctive feature of the settlement that sets it apart from indigenous settlements in Contestania. 396 Taken together, the evidence indicates that this settlement could have been an important fortification for Carthaginian control of the region. Yet architectural features, per se, can only indicate its Punic character at best and can in no way confirm Carthaginian intervention.397 The technical aspects clearly diverge from contemporary indigenous structures and indeed techniques being used at contemporary Punic settlements like Carteia, but elements such as cisterns or casemate walls cannot specify Carthaginian influence. 398 The triple interior compartments formed via casemates in tower VI do resemble the casemates employed in Carthago Nova. However, casemates had been employed by Phoenicians in Iberia at La Fonteta and Castillo de Doña Blanca as early as the late eighth or early seventh centuries. Hence, casemates provide little diagnostic value themselves.399 The more characteristic feature of Barcid engineering, beveled ashlars, were not even employed at El Tossal de Manises. 400 The proteichisma (supporting structures independent of fortifications, in this case a wall exterior to the main wall) may have provided a sufficient deterrent against siege weapons and perhaps the cost of thick, beveled walls exceeded the strategic value of this settlement. Ultimately, architectural features do not provide a magic key 395 Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 237, 239. 396 Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 246. 397 For treatment of architecture in this region during the Phoenician period, see: Díes Cusí, Universitat de València, and Facultat de Geografia i Història 1995; for general discussion about the problems of discerning down political and military facts from archaeological remains, see Noguera Guillén’s case study for the northeast of Iberia: Noguera Guillén 2014, 29, 48-53. 398 Sala Sellés 2006, 149; Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 236. 399 Montanero Vico 2008, 103–4; Marín Martínez 2012, 24; Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 236; Marín Martínez 2012, 55. It is also worth pointing out that the triple compartments of tower VIII employ an entirely different pattern, employing an outer entrance to each compartment. 400 Marín Martínez attests to beveling in the outer face of non-ashlar work at El Tossal de Manises (Marín Martínez 2012, 55, but provides no reference to support this remark, perhaps he has the Roman construction in mind; Olcina Doménech 2002, 156; note absence of remarks about beveling in works of Bendala Galán and Montanero Vico. 101 to identify settlements as Carthaginian and this limitation applies to the conte mporary structures that I consider at Carteia and Gadir. The combination of other factors in addition to the construction techniques—the ceramic concordance with Carthago Nova, especially when compared to indigenous settlements that show far fewer amphorae of North African origin, the connection between the artillery balls, and the possibly de novo character of the settlement— are what suggest its Carthaginian origin, but this must remain merely the most plausible hypothesis. If build under Barcid guidance, the fortification at Tossal de Manises would have helped consolidate control over the coast along with Carthago Nova to the south and allied Ebusus to the east. Below I consider how this foundation facilitated exchange and consumption of goods between Carthaginians and local communities of the interior. Among those indigenous communities, La Serreta shows signs of construction too. La Serreta The indigenous settlement of La Serreta rests inland about 38 km north of Tossal de Manises. During the third century the oppidum reached its maximum extent, enclosing an area of about 5.5 hectares, only to be abandoned during or slightly after the Second Punic War. 401 The height of its prosperity occurs in the second half of the third century, with signs of construction possibly dating to our era. A gate was built on the eastern portion of the settlement, with Campanian A and Oliva-Liria wares associated with its construction layers, indicative of the late third or early second centuries (figs. 2.17 & 2.18). 402 Signs of destruction in the southern portion of La Serreta date to the same period. Its excavators believe this hasty edification was internally directed and motivated by the Second Punic War, perhaps indicating 401 Olcina Doménech et al. 1998. 402 Llobregat Conesa et al. 1995; Olcina Doménech in Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 166. 102 that the community was attempting to preserve its third-century prosperity. 403 Below I consider how exchange with El Tossal de Manises contributed to its fortunes. I now turn to expansion at Punic Carteia and Gadir in the southwestern Iberia. Carteia Carteia was founded in the mid-fourth century at the estuary of the Guadarranque River, succeeding the older Phoenician foundation of Cerro del Prado, founded in the seventh century slightly further up the river. Carteia saw subsequent urban expansion in the late third century, in which the original walls were thickened and its southern gate was monumentalized. Excavators have linked this expansion with the Barcid presence due to ceramics and architectural corollaries. A northwestern section of these walls was excavated from 1994 to 1999 (fig. 2.19). 404 Black ware ceramics at the foundational layers date to the mid fourth century. The original walls of the settlement were about 3 meters thick and perhaps about 8 meters in height. They were subsequently expanded with casemates to a thickness of nearly 6 meters. The wal ls are identified with the Barcid era by Kuass ceramics and a coin from Ebusus minted around 214. 405 The thickening of the walls entailed important productive reconfiguration, displacing previous areas of industrial activity. The city’s entrance gates were also monumentalized with the construction of two long walls of dressed ashlars that formed a wide passage running southward along the wall (fig. 2.20). Two small chambers flanked each side of the entryway, which may 403 Olcina Doménech in Abad Casal, Sala Sel lés, and Grau Mira 2005, 166–73. 404 Roldán Gómez et al. 2006; Bendala Galán et al. 1994, 90. 405 Campo 1976, 77, 80, 90; Campo 1993, 153; Roldán Gómez et al. 2006, 499; the coin is Campo’s type XII, employing Ebusus’ new weight standard of (10/11 gm.), Campo’s date is based on the abandonments of Ullastret and the necropolis of Puig des Molíns (Ibiza), though early second-century dates are possible. 103 have been guard towers. 406 The neatness of the craftsmanship and quality of the materials suggests careful planning, rather than hasty construction merely for military needs. 407 Beyond the costs of construction, the casemate walls served important economic functions as storage facilities. 408 Blánquez Pérez suggests that the need for extra storage might reflect the influx of Carthaginian colonists to Carteia. 409 Though improvable, this is possible. More generally, Carteia’s expanded storage capacity could reflect its growing prosperity and greater demand for its maritime exports, as was the case for Gadir. Archaeological, numismatic, and literary evidence attest to the city’s maritime prosperity. Fishhooks found at Cerro del Prado suggest the significance of fishing from an early time and the city’s earlie st coinage employed dolphin iconography. 410 Strabo praises Carteia’s fishing industry, with its exceptionally large tuna as well as its impressive city walls and docks. 411 Archaeologists have compared the “Hellenistic innovations” of these walls with those at Carthago Nova as well as contemporary works at Gadir (below) and Carmo in order to detect Carthaginian influence. 412 However, emphasizing such features may be overvalued. The techniques characteristic of these walls are the seaming of blocks, use of casemates, and beveling of ashlars. Seaming utilizes blocks of different sizes to form an interlocking structure, which at Carthago Nova was employed to link the casemates to the walls, a common technique in 406 Blánquez Pérez et al. in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 523. 407 Bendala Galán 2010, 444. 408 Blánquez Pérez et al. in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 522. 409 Blánquez Pérez 2013, 240. 410 Fishhooks: Costa and Fernández Gómez 2012, 65; coinage: Villaronga and Benages 2011, 502–6. 411 Strabo 3.2.7. 412 Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003; Montanero Vico 2008; Bendala Galán 2010; Marín Mar tínez 2012; Blánquez Pérez 2013. 104 Carthaginian construction. 413 The casemates also resemble those at Carthago Nova yet casemates were used in Punic structures in Iberia as early as the eighth century, so do not represent a characteristically Carthaginian innovation.414 The most compelling case for Carthaginian influence is Carteia’s beveled ashlars (fig. 2.21). Previously unattested in Iberia, precursors appear at Punic Motya. More than just stylistic carving, cutting the stones this way made the walls less likely to crack over time and also rendered them more resistant to artillery and rams.415 Beveling and seaming appears in the ashlar work at Carteia and Gadir’s Castillo de Doña Blanca. Yet their presence alone does not prove that these structures were built under Carthaginian direction rather than through internal initiative. Carteia also resembles Carthago Nova in the “zippering” pattern its walls, but this may simply reflect topographic necessity. 416 Carteia’s walls resemble certain features of the monumental gate of Carmo, an indigenous site in the Lower Guadalquivir Valley. Most interpret monumentalizing at Carmo to indicate a Carthaginian takeover; beveled ashlars at Carmo are suggestive. But, no stratigraphic evidence is available to corroborate a Barcid dating for Carmo, so comparison risks circularity. 417 The architectural innovations may very well indicate influence from Carthage, but fail to answer a simple but essential question: cui bono? Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez relate these expansions to a larger Barcid policy of political and territorial control. 418 The question of Carthaginian dominance is an intriguing possibility and one that I consider at length in chapter 413 Montanero Vico 2008, 117. 414 Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003, 148–50. 415 Blánquez Pérez 2003, 275; Blánquez Pérez 2013, 216, 227; for Motya see Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003, 148 and Tusa in Moscati 1988b, 188; Ciasca 2000, 62; practical function: Montanero Vico 2008, 63. 416 Blánquez Pérez 2013, 219. 417 Blánquez Pérez et al. in Helas and Marzoli 2009, 523; Alfonso Jiménez 1989; Bendala Galán 2001; refuted as a Roman addition by Schattner 2005; 418 Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003; Bendala Galán 2010; Blánquez Pérez 2013. 105 four. The single Hispano-Carthaginian bronze coin found in Carteia does not make a particularly strong case for the presence of a Carthaginian garrison over simple commerce. Alternatively, the Carthaginians may have simply provided some technical aid for Carteia to reinvent itself, perhaps to the mutual benefit of both. While influence seems evident, its significance is ambiguous. The relative abundance of excavation in the Bay of Cádiz permits more extensive interpretation of Gadir’s economic developments. Gadir & Castillo De Dona Blañca Gadir is typically viewed as one of Carthage’s principal Punic allies in Iberia. 419 Traditionally the oldest Phoenician colony in the west, Hamilcar landed at Gadir to begin his conquest of Turdetania, relying on an old alliance between the two. 420 Polybius implies this connection in his rendition of the treaty of 348 between Carthage and Rome, in which the Romans are prohibited from trading in southern Iberia. 421 Livy’s Mago invokes this alliance toward the end of the Second Punic War (socius et amicus), though at that time, relations had become strained and devolved into open hostility.422 The material evidence shows that the Barcid empire had a significant economic impact on the inhabitants of Gadir. While that impact is most clear in patterns of exchange (below), the expansion of Gadir’s terrestrial settlement of Castillo de Doña Blanca also reflects economic developments. Numismatic evidence and destruction layers date the settlement’s sudden abandonment to the end of the Second Punic War. 419 López Castro 1995, 85–6; Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2010, 539. 420 Ferrery y Pliego, Whittaker, Lopez Castro. Note some reasonable objections to this interpretation raised by Alvarez 2012 p. 577-81, to be addressed in chapter four. For its foundation see mythology: Strabo. 3.5.5, Vell. Pat. Hist. Rom. 1.2.3, Mela 3.6.46, Diod Sic. 25.10.1. 421 Pol. 3.24. 422 Liv 28.37.1. 106 Gadir’s urban center rested on a small island within an archipelago of three islands that housed a conglomeration of associated settlements, separated from the coast by a small stretch of sea. The three islands, Erytheia, Kotinousa, and Antipolis, seem to have housed the metropolis, the temple of Melqart, and industrial quarters, respectively (fig. 2.22). The location of the metropolis proper is yet to be archaeologically confirmed, though limited excavation of Torre Tavira locates it on the island of Erytheia. 423 The Phoenicians colonists founded Castillo de Doña Blanca on the mainland around the mid-eighth century on a small inlet at the foot of the Sierra de San Cristóbal, near the estuary of the Guadalete River. Castillo de Doña Blanca furnished access to fresh water, a terrestrial port, and an important center for trade with indigenous communities. The site has seen excavation from the late 1970s through early the 1990s (fig. 2.23). 424 Its archaic rubble wall, which utilized casemates, was more than 3 meters thick and embraced an area of about 5 hectares, a considerable size for the period.425 The walls of Castillo de Doña Blanca were reconstructed in the fifth century and once again during the third century, when they were nearly doubled in size. The construction of t he third-century walls reflects both significant economic activity and investment, a community in a steady process of prosperity and expansion. Thus, prior to the construction of the final wall, civic construction progressed within its boundaries throughout the fourth and third centuries. The Barcid period marked a new chapter in the community’s economic development, but hardly the whole story. Gadir was seeing expansion within its chora a century earlier.426 Around the start of the third century the agricultural center of Las Cumbres was established as an extension of 423 Ruiz Mata in Bierling and Gitin 2002, 155–70; for paleography see Corzo Sánchez 1980. 424 Ruiz Mata and Pérez 1995. 425 Ruiz Mata in Bierling and Gitin 2002, 174. 426 Carretero Poblete 2007. 107 Castillo de Doña Blanca and it persisted throughout the century until it was also abandoned in the wake of the Second Punic War. Several portions of the wall’s northern face have been excavated, along with portions of the south (fig. 2.24). The third-century reconstruction featured two new parallel stretches of wall joined by casemates with a combined thickness of about 5 to 5.5 meters. The number of amphorae and mills that appear within them suggest that their primary function was storage. The wall was reinforced with towers between segments of wall connecting in a zig-zag like pattern.427 Two types of ashlars were employed, some worked in the same way as those of the fifth-century wall, and others perfectly squared with visible care, displaying the seaming technique and beveled finish exhibited in Carthago Nova and Carteia (fig. 2.25). 428 The finished product was both functionally and technically more advanced than its predecessor and suited not only to obvious military ends, but also economic ones. 429 Finds associated with burn layers in the southwestern quarter of the walls link the final phase of the settlement to the Second Punic War. 430 The assemblage includes the remains of horses, human bodies, amphorae still full of their contents, and a partition with sixty stone artillery balls. Most intriguing is a pouch containing fifty-six Carthaginian coins, minted between 221 and 210. The hoard of coins was discovered in one of the compartments formed by casemate walls. At the entranceway to this room, a Hispano-Carthaginian coin was discovered, a bronze 427 Ruiz Mata 2001, 262–7. 428 Ruiz Mata and Pérez 1995, 102; Ruiz Mata 2001, 267. A precedent for this technique from elsewhere in the Punic World appears in the fourth century wall of Punic Motya, Marín Martínez 2012, 20. 429 Ruiz Mata and Pérez 1995, 102; Ruiz Mata 2001, 267. 430 Ruiz Mata and Pérez 1995, 76–5. 108 issue of a series dated after 221. 431 The other materials of the room likewise point to later third century contexts, both a Greco-Italic amphora and a Carthaginian type, as well as a fragment of Kuass ware. Most of the coins were minted with different dies and possess a remarkably high lead content, some at almost 90%. While the Hispano-Carthaginian coin itself firmly nods to the Second Punic War, the coins in the bag correlate to types firmly datable between the years 221 and 210, based on overstrikes and associations with coins from Morgantina, destroyed in 211. They also correlate with a cache of some ten thousand Carthaginian bronzes from a wreck off the coast of Morocco, likewise debased. 432 Taken together, the techniques employed in the walls, the third-century ceramics, and the numismatic evidence provide strong grounds to place this building activity in our period. The numismatic evidence indicates the presence of Carthaginian soldiers, which coincides with Livy’s remark about a praesidium at Gadir toward the end of the war. 433 Carthaginian soldiers may have been present to tighten control over Gadir and the region but their purpose could also have been to protect a valued ally from Roman aggression. I will consider the implications of this garrison in chapter four, but what matters here is the soldiers’ significance with regard to the new construction. While it is possible that the Carthaginians rebuilt Castillo de Doña Blanca to serve as a garrison, the presence of soldiers does not prove this was the case and Gadir was fully capable of rebuilding on its own initiative. The expansion may be part of a longer term pattern of growth at Gadir. Diego Ruiz Mata argues that the numerous reconfigurations of the walls as show Gadir’s economic dynamism and capacity.434 The remodeling during the fifth century is no surprise, given the international 431 Villaronga Class IX type II: Villaronga 1973, 157–8; Marcos Alonso and Alfaro Asi ns 1994, 56. 432 Marcos Alonso and Alfaro Asins 1994, 234–37; Levy et al. 2001. 433 Liv. 28.23.6. 434 Ruiz Mata and Pérez 1995, 103. 109 popularity of its salted fish at that time, which revitalized from the Carthaginian presence (below). In the fourth century, Gadir’s olive oil production notably intensified, prompting the construction of the nearby settlement of Las Cumbres toward the turn of that century (fig. 2.18). Agricultural products were processed at Las Cumbres, serving as an extension of the productive systems at Castillo de Doña Blanca. 435 In the larger economic scheme, expansion at Castillo de Doña Blanca could be just one more internal development. But the importance of the Barcid presence cannot be discounted. As I show below, that presence intensified systems of production and exchange in the Bay of Cádiz. 436 With demand for Gadir’s maritime products expanding, the reconstruction of the walls at Castillo de Doña Blanca would have been a sensible investment as the citizens of Gadir exploited the needs of the Carthaginian army. The walls offered more space for storing goods to feed the consumers and at the same time offered the community better protection against the threat of indigenous retaliation spurred by Carthaginian conquest, and later against the Romans. Examination of commercial developments supports these interpretations and invites the possibility for a similar reading for construction carried out at Carteia. I have explored expansion within existing communities and the creation of new ones. This activity was partly driven by military necessity, but the construction had economic significance too. Cities played critical roles as centers for the consumption and redistribution of goods, which were in higher demand with the influx of Carthaginian soldiers and colonists. Turning to the Barcid impact on trade, I show how empire revitalized old circuits of exchange and stimulated new ones. 435 Niveau de Villedary and Ruiz Mata 1999, 126; Carretero Poblete 2007. 436 Sáez Romero 2010, 902. 110 PART 4: EXCHANGE & CONSUMPTION Carthaginians seized the new opportunities for exchange that empire facilitated and so too did locals, who skillfully exploited Carthaginian demands. Both the numismatic and ceramic evidence in southern Iberia reveal how preexisting commercial circuits intensified from the stimulus of Carthaginian conquest. Dynamics of exchange were heterogeneous, with regional patterns diverging significantly between southeastern Iberia and the Circuit of the Straits, where Carthaginian goods were far less present. The evidence here further demonstrates the general importance of consumption among the soldiers, colonists and laborers but also reveals new patterns among local communities. Together these transactions reflect the variety of individuals invested in the Barcid empire, benefiting from the woes of the conquered. Recalling the confluence of goods arriving to Carthago Nova, I start by revisiting some of the sites already encountered in the southeast as well as new ones, then likewise in the southwest. El Tossal De Manises The coastal settlement of El Tossal de Manises was important for access to the interior of Contestania. It appears to have been sustained by a combination of imports from Carthage and Punic allied communities, as well as a significant portion of local products. The population may have used the necropolis of Albufereta at the bottom of the hill, which includes several depositions of Hispano-Carthaginian bronze issues as well as a bronze coin minted by Baria. 437 Other objects include scarabs, Punic style lamps with female heads (perhaps Tanit-Demeter) and fragments of ostrich eggs while the persistence of local items hints at a mixed population of 437 Verdú Parra 2010. 111 Punic and Iberian inhabitants. 438 These coins and the ceramics of the settlement hint at patterns of regional exchange. Among the amphorae, 64.4% were produced locally (fig. 2.26). Greco-Italic amphorae are surprisingly dominant at 14.4%, which may have arrived either through Punic intermediation or through subsequent Roman occupation, or some combination of the two. Amphorae of Central Mediterranean provenance make up ~11.5%, outnumbering both Ibizan wares and those from the Circuit of the Straits combined. This is surprising given the proximity of Ibiza. Goods were likely redistributed from Carthago Nova but some may have arrived through the circuit from the north. While the high number of locally produced amphorae diverges significantly from the pattern at Carthago Nova, the ratio of imported to local amphorae is similar to those among other coastal settlements, such as at contemporary Emporion to the north.439 Some of these containers may represent internal production and or local tribute. Yet there are also signs of possible exchange with indigenous communities of interior Contestania. Material evidence in the neighboring oppidum of La Serreta and La Escuera suggests this was so. La Serreta The inhabitants of La Serreta, the principal Iberian settlement of central Contestania, accessed Mediterranean goods through interaction with El Tossal de Manises. Inscription s and numismatic evidence demonstrate the commercial inclinations and dynamism of its elite. One dozen lead tablets have been uncovered from La Serreta written in Eastern Iberian and Greco - Iberian scripts, both illegible. For those with archaeological contexts, all but one date to the third century.440 Greco-Iberian script is especially rare, geographically restricted basically to 438 Verdú Parra 2005, 61–4; Verdú Parro in Olcina Doménech 2009, 36–7; Verdú Parra 2010. 439 58.3% of amphorae were locally produced, 41.6% imported Masoliver et al. 2004, 171; 440 Grau Mira and Segura Martí 1994, 122–3. 112 Contestania and with extant examples ranging only in the dozens; the volume of those in La Serreta is exceptional. 441 The function of texts is interpreted as economic rather than religious, based on the contexts of their finds as well as the onomastic and numeric formulae used. 442 A graffito in Greco-Iberian script also appears on a grey ware vase found at Tossal de Manises. Furthermore, three Hispano-Carthaginian bronzes have also been found within the settlement of La Serreta, the same types as those at the necropolis at Tossal de Manises. 443 Ceramics finds further support the link between the two settlements. Corollaries in Campanian A and other tableware as well as some amphorae at La Serreta and the El Tossal indicate exchange between the two. 444 In exchange for these foreign ceramics, agricultural surplus may have flowed back to the coast to El Tossal de Manises, accounting for some of its locally fashioned amphorae. Elites of La Serreta could have organized agricultural production to facilitate exchange with coastal communities and broker the flow of Mediterranean goods into their community. 445 This accords well with previous trends in the flow of goods between these regions through the coastal settlement of La Illeta dels Banyets (abandoned early third century), where Greco-Iberian script was also used. 446 Due to the strong Punic characteristics of habitation at Illeta dels Banyets, it is likely that inhabitants in the region of La Serreta had a longer history of interactions with the Punic World, which merely intensified during the Barcid era. The Carthaginian presence may have impacted local consumption too, which is most evident in funerary material. The inhabitants of La Serreta deposited lamps and figurines with 441 De Hoz Bravo 2009, 31–33; Olcina Doménech in Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 168. 442 Grau Mira 2003, 268; de Hoz Bravo 2009, 38–9. 443 Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 173; Mellado Rivera and Garrigós i Albert 2004, 202–4. 444 Grau Mira, Olmos Romera, and Perea Caveda 2008, 12–13; Sala Sellés et al. 2004, 243–5. 445 Grau Mira 2003, 275; Sala Sellés 2006, 147–9. 446 García i Martín and Grau Mira 1997; Olcina Doménech in Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Grau Mira 2005, 172. 113 Central Mediterranean parallels in their sanctuary during this period.447 These figures may be associated with the cult of Tanit/Demeter and appear in Iberian communities further inland. Their appearance in Punic communities, including Baria, Malaga, and Gadir, may signify that the Barcid presence intensified the consumption of these goods. 448 Elites at La Serreta displayed strong connections to the Punic World at this time, signaling their prestige by acquiring and consuming foreign goods. Given its regional importance, La Serreta’s cooperation and or submission would have been important for Barcid territorial control. Yet even if La Serreta’s defensive augmentations reflect responses to the invasion of Rome rather than Carthage, it is difficult to assess the relationship between La Serreta and Carthaginians. La Serreta’s decline and signs of destruction do coincide chronologically with those at El Tossal de Manises. Based on the general signs of the mutual prosperity and then decline of these two settlements, Manuel Olcina Doménech suggests that La Serreta’s relations with Carthage were more likely characterized by cooperation than domination. The idea is attractive and for now I introduce Ignacio Grau Mira’s hypothesis that the elites of La Serreta leveraged a favored position with Carthage in order to consolidate their own regional power. 449 I will explore it more in following chapters. La Escuera The settlement of La Escuera (San Fulgencio) was located a few kilometers inland on the southern slope of the Sierra del Molar and bounded to its south by a marsh connected to the nearby Segura River. It was inhabited from the fifth through late third or early second centuries, with the expansion of its third-century walls enclosing an area of about 2.5 hectares. Its 447 García Cardiel 2014b, 84–6. 448 Marín Ceballos and Horn 2007. 449 Grau Mira 2004, 65–6. 114 excavators suggest this expansion could be related to similar expansion at La Serreta and El Tossal de Manises. 450 A hoard of 52 or more Hispano-Carthaginian bronzes were recovered here from a cloth bag; perhaps left by a soldier, the coins suggests the penetration of small coinage minted at Carthago Nova into the region. 451 Imported tableware make up 7% of all ceramics, including pieces of Campanian A. Imported amphorae make up less than 2% of the total assemblage, with Punic imports dominating, including T.5.2.3.1s from Carthage but with containers from the Circuit of the Straits being most prominent (50%). 452 The amphorae elucidate interaction with the Circuits of the Straits while the tableware coincides well with the assemblage at Carthago Nova. Its excavators see its hasty abandonment possibly linked with the Second Punic War along with signs of destruction in settlements examined above. 453 Exchange with Carthaginian centers seems likely though its significance is unclear. Baria Originally a late seventh-century Phoenician colony, the coastal settlement of Baria (Villaricos, Almería) was founded along the Almonzora River in the Vera Basin. Finds from its necropolis (sixth through fourth centuries) indicate that Baria enjoyed a long history of interaction with Carthage. 454 Baria comprehensively exploited the agricultural, marine, and mineral resources in its territory through a system of subsidiary settlements (fig. 2.27). Some of these mineral resources may have been exchanged with Carthage prior to the Barcid period. 455 450 Abad Casal and Sala Sellés Feliciana 2001, 205, 260–4. 451 Villaronga 1973, 83. 452 Sala Sellés et al. 2004, 238–9. 453 Abad Casal and Sala Sellés Feliciana 2001, 263. 454 María E. Aubet Semmler 1986a. 455 García-Bellido 2000, 135–6. 115 The arrival of the Barcids intensified trade between Baria and Carthage, perhaps to their mutual benefit. Baria’s firm support of Carthage may be inferred from its staunch resistance to a Roman assault led by Scipio Africanus in 209, attested by several imperial authors. 456 Burn layers pertain to this event in the Calle Central along with signs of destruction in other portions of the site as well as hasty burials of bodies in the acropolis with damaged skulls. 457 Ceramics from these contexts offer an excellent point of comparison for considering patterns of exchange in Baria during the Barcid era and previous times. In fifth-century contexts amphorae of Carthaginian provenance total 2% while Greek amphorae predominate along with amphorae form the Circuit of the Straits, with each representing 12% of all amphorae. Greek wares disappear in the fourth century. 458 Materials associated with the destruction layer reveal significant changes by the end of the late third century. Within that assemblage of 55 imported Amphorae, 20% are of Central Mediterranean provenance (T.5.2.3.1s most prominent), while 15% come from the Circuit of the Straits and 16% from Ebusus (fig. 2.28). Carthaginian type mortars and other cookery now appear too. It is notable too that these new links with Carthage outlived the Barcid empire, with wares of North African provenance persisting through the first half of the second century. 459 While Carthaginian wares travelled far to outnumber imports from Gadir and Ebusus, those regional imports had increased too relative to their presence in prior periods too. 460 As at Carthago Nova, the commercial circuits of Carthage, Ebusus, and Gadir united and intensified at Baria. 456 Val Max 3.7.1; Plut. Apoph. 196 B 8-12; Gel. 6.1.8-11; Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 33–38. 457 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 45–52, 125–6. 458 López Castro et al. 2011, 123–8; Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 134–6. 459 López Castro et al. 2011, 100, 131, 160. 460 López Castro et al. 2011, 160. 116 Baria played an important role as a center for redistributing these goods for consumption by Carthaginians, especially soldiers, who prompted increased demands. 461 Along with increasing commerce, there are signs of intensified production during this period, probably also driven by Carthaginian demands. While Baria was an important receptor for Carthaginian goods, its inhabitants may have enjoyed economic benefits as well. Baria’s relations with Carthage will become clearer after I consider the history of social interaction between Carthage and Baria in the following chapter. Gadir Gadir’s alliance with Carthage was of great economic significance for both parties. Through it, Gadir’s citizens exploited a new niche for their community’s salt-fish industry. Fewer goods arrived to the region from Carthage compared with finds in southeastern Iberia perhaps because Gadir was compensated by resources exploited from Carthage ’s Iberian territories. 462 There are ample signs of increased economic activity at Gadir at this time: the expansion of existing kiln complexes, the creation of new production sites, the adoption of technical innovations in productive practices, expanded circulation of these products, and the genesis of Gadir’s silver coinage. Though Carthaginian influence is evident, these developments appear to have been internally driven, to the benefit of local inhabitants. Excavation in the Bay of Cadiz over the past thirty years, particularly of amphorae workshops, has sharply increased our understanding of local ceramic production and distribution. A complex model of organization was established for the extraction, processing, and redistribution of resources, maritime as well as agricultural, that appears to have been 461 López Castro, Martínez Hahnmüller, and Pardo Barrionuevo 2010, 124. 462 Niveau de Villedary 2001a, 271; Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 85. 117 mediated at least partly through civic and religious institutions. 463 A comprehensive account of the more than dozen amphorae workshops excavated since the 80s exceeds my purposes here.464 Instead, I offer an overview of the industrial system of kilns and fisheries in the Bay of Cádiz and brief narrative of Gadir’s salted fish industry up to the time of the Barcid conquest. Productive spaces in the Bay of Cadiz were specialized for different elements of the s alt- fish industry (fig. 2.29). Throughout the Punic period the main center for Gadir’s ceramic production was on the island of Antipolis (San Fernando) and many of the workshops have been well-excavated.465 The workshop at Torre Alta is the best understood for this period, having seen repeated excavations since the 1980s. 466 This complex reached the height of its production during our period during which innovations also began. Both ichthyofauna and amphorae stamps depicting fish make it clear that the workshop produced containers for the products of the fisheries. 467 Most of the fisheries were located on the mainland coast of the modern Puerto de Santa Maria. While more than one dozen other structures are also identified as fisheries, only have a few have been excavated, with the factory at Las Redes being paradigmatic. The factories contain pools for salting fish as well as the remains of fish and tools, including fish hooks. 468 The overall system was established in the sixth century. With the collapse of the colonial silver trade toward the end of the sixth century, inhabitants of Gadir turned to their maritime resources. 469 Salted fish were exported throughout the Circuit of the Straits but also as far as Carthage and Greek cities of the Eastern 463 Sáez Romero 2010, 894. 464 Summaries of recent research with bibliographies: Niveau de Villedary 2008; Sáez Romero 2008a; Sáez Romero 2010. 465 Sáez Romero 2010, 888–93; Sáez Romero 2008b. 466 Synthesis of excavations: Sáez Romero 2008b, 47–148. Sáez Romero 2008b, 338–9. 467 Muñoz Vicente 2012, 36, first confirmed at the Torre Alta site. 468 Muñoz Vicente 2012, 43–58. 469 Neville 2007; Muñoz Vicente 2012, 39. 118 Mediterranean. Avid consumption in Greece merited jokes by Attic comedians and archaeological remains are reflected by the so-called “Punic amphora building” in Corinth. 470 During the fourth century there was a recession, perhaps even a crisis, seen in the absence of these products in the eastern Mediterranean and the scarcity of remains in the fourth-century sequences of Gadir’s factories.471 A gradual recovery began to take place at the start of the third century but it is during the Barcid period that Gadir’s maritime industrie s flourished anew.472 Old structures were reinvigorated and expanded and new ones constructed. New Salted fish factories in the Plaza de Asdrúbal and at the Avienda de Andaluía can be dated to the last third of third century, with some Carthaginian amphorae present as well. 473 A new installation at Muis Milena also arose on Antipolis in the later third century, where an abundance of murex shells signify purple dye production. Despite the Phoenician fame for purple dyes, it is only now that a factory is the first attested at Gadir. 474 Among the pottery kilns examples of new installations appear at C/Real isleña on the island of Erytheia (fig. 2.30). 475 A new production complex was also established on Antipolis at Cerro de la Batería. Moreover, there is evidence for expansion and revitalization at preexisting centers on Antipolis. Ceramics finds indicate significant revitalization of the kilns at Centro Atlántida in the second half of the third century. In the same period a new kiln was established at the amphora factories at both La Milagrosa and Perry Junquera. The most notable expansions 470 Summary of literary sources: Vargas and Albelda 2012, 88; excavation in Corinth: Munn 2003; Docter and Bechtold 2013, 103–6. Main amphora type: T.11.2.1.3. 471 For overviews of the “fourth-century crisis” see Muñoz Vincente in Bernal Casasola 2009, 127 and Sáez Romero 2008a, 143–4. Bechtold and Docter propose the lull in international trade is connected to the rise of salting factories in Punic Sicily, Docter and Bechtold 2013, 107. 472 Sáez Romero 2008b, 701; Sáez Romero 2011, 61. This recovery coincides with a wider export of olive oil from the start of the fourth century Carretero Poblete 2007, 92. 473 Sáez Romero 2008b, 690; Muñoz Vicente 2012, 49; Lowe 2009, 53. 474 Bernal Casasola and Sáez Romero 2011. 475 Sáez Romero 2010, 902, 920; Sáez Romero 2008b, 435–47; Sáez Romero 2008b, 423–35; Sáez Romero 2008b, 381–5, 366–71; Sáez Romero 2008b, 709; Sáez Romero 2008b, 201–5. 119 are known from Torre Alta, were several new kilns appear during the last third of the third century along with technical innovations probably inspired by Carthaginian influence. At Torre Alta a new type of furnace is employed, previously attested at both Kerkouane and Carthage itself. These furnaces were constructed with a perfectly circular pillar in the center and featured grills formed by bars. Kilns 1, 2, and 3 can all be dated to the Barcid era and utilized this design, as did subsequent kilns during the Roman period. No further innovations are known until the late second century. A similar development of North African precedent is the appearance of furnaces with double combustion chambers, found at Torre Alta and Milagrosa.476 A new amphora type also appears at Torre Alta, the T.9.1.1.1. 477 They were used for fish products, judging from finds in salt-fish factories and stamps featuring fish iconography.478 This type circulated in Carthago Nova and Baria. Smaller than traditional types and featuring a flat base, it may have for overland transport, which its subsequent presence among Roman camps at Numantia corroborates. Before Gadir exploited Roman demands, the original models served Carthaginian soldiers. Iconographic stamps on amphorae may also have begun at this time. Amphorae bearing stamps with the sign of Tanit are datable to the second half of the third century (fig. 2.31). 479 Some have interpreted these stamps to indicate a Carthaginian takeover of Gadir’s salt-fish industries, since Carthage had employed such stamps since the fifth century, but that notion is not persuasive. 480 The appearance of this institution at Gadir is a significant sign of interaction yet it need not signify a Barcid takeover no more than Gadir’s imitation of a Carthaginian 476 Sáez Romero 2008b, 204. 477 Sáez Romero 2008b, 557–565. 478 That stamped amphora in particul ar may date to the late third or early second century. 479 Finds from possible third century contexts: Sáez Romero 2008b, 580–2; stronger indications for third second half of third century based off unpublished material Sáez Romero 2010, 916. 480 Muñoz Vicente and de Frutos Reyes 2009, 128–31. 120 amphora form in the following century. 481 Tanit stamps are better attested for the second century though the significance of their continued presence is not well understood. Contemporary coinage from these factories suggests these industries remained under internal control. The only coins that appear in the amphorae factories are Gadir’s bronze issues, of both pre-Barcid and Barcid dates. Their appearance in these factories and their f ish iconography suggest that the coinage had some internal significance for the fishery industries from its inception. External coinage is significantly absent from these factories, despite the appearance of coins from Carthage, Massalia, and Ebusus in Castillo de Doña Blanca, Las Cumbres, and the sanctuary of Algaida. 482 Carthaginian intrusion aside, these technical innovations reflect more intense interaction between Gadir and Carthage at this time. Due to the Carthaginian presence, Gadir’s products circulated more widely within the Lower Guadalquivir Valley, the Atlantic coasts and eastern Iberia. Gadir’s products and goods from the central Mediterranean penetrated more deeply into the Lower Guadalquivir valley than in the past. In the third-century communities of Ilipa (Alcalá de Río), Spal (Sevilla), and Caura (Coria del Rió), wares produced in the Bay of Cadiz reach an all-time high.483 At both Ilipa and Caura wares from Gadir become the majority imports during the third century, with forms at Caura indicative of the later third century. Also present at Caura are three examples of Carthaginian T.5.2.3.1s. The challenge is distinguishing activity related to the Barcid times from the general rise of Gadir’s third-century economy. More precision is possible at Spal. 481 Types T.7.4.3.2/3s inspired by Carthaginian T.7.4.2.1/7.4.3.1s, Sáez Romero 2008b, 566–72. 482 Arévalo González 2004; the amphorae factories are Torre Alta and Perry Junquera. 483 Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010. 121 Spal was an important local emporium and point of fluvial access to the interior of the Guadalquivir Valley. 484 Exchange with Gadir increased significantly during our period and Punic wares from the Central Mediterranean also appear. García and Ferrer attribute this transition to the Barcid presence. 485 The amphorae from Gadir form the majority of the imported amphorae at 43% of the total for this period, with types indicative of the late third century in Torre Alta. 486 Carthaginian containers were present too, both T.5.2.3.1 and a T.7.2.1.1. 487 Spal should not be read as an isolated phenomenon. 488 Because Spal played an important role as a regional emporium, developments at Spal can be indicative of wider changes in regional circulation. Wares acquired at Spal appear to have travelled up to another 50 kilometers into the Guadalquivir system, with T.8.2.1.1s travelling as far as Carmo, which is traditionally viewed as a Barcid stronghold. 489 But goods from Gadir and Carthage found their way even deeper into the river system. At the site of Montemolin, about 25 kilometers down the Corbones River from Carmo, appear a possible T.8.2.1.1 as well as a Carthaginian 7.2.1.1. 490 Montemolin has been suspected as the location of a Carthaginian camp due to the presence of a hoard with “thousands” of Hispano-Carthaginian coins. 491 Similar wares are attested in the settlement of Vico on a neighboring hilltop, with signs of late third-century destruction related to the Second Punic War.492 Chaves-Tristán proposes locations for Carthaginian camps throughout the 484 Strabo. 3.2.3 marks Spal as the furthest point to which the larger merchant contemporary vessels could sail. The preponderance of amphorae at this cite align with Strabo’s remarks and contribute to its label as an emporium. 485 García Fernández 2011, 364; Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 72. 486 García Fernández 2011, 362–5; transitional forms of 8.2.1.1 and T.9.1.1.1s 487 García Fernández 2011, 364; Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 72–5. 488 Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 84–5. 489 Ferrer Albelda, Fernández, and Carrasco 2010, 82. 490 García Vargas, Mora de los Reyes, and Ferrer Albelda 1989, 236–7. 491 Alfaro Asins 1997, 71; Chaves Tristán 1990, 620; García-Bellido 2010, 209. It appears even expert numismatists of Spain have trouble accessing this poorly published hoard. 492 Bandera Romero and Ferrer Albelda 2002, 140. 122 Guadalquivir Valley based on numismatic finds (fig. 2.32). 493 Literary sources note fortifications built by Hannibal, though archaeological identification rests mainly on towers from the Roman period (fig. 2.33). 494 New goods may have circulated among communities in the mining regions of Río Tinto. At Niebla wares from Gadir appear in levels associated with the site’s destruction at the end of the third century; signs of interaction with Gadir date from earlier periods too. These amphorae may have helped feed Carthaginian miners. 495 Even further afield in the Atlantic, Muñoz Vicente demonstrates intensified circulation of Gadir’s products in the Canary Islands. 496 Gadir’s wares expanded into eastern Iberia, revitalizing the former circuits of exchange that had diminished during the fourth century. During the acme of Gadir’s international exporting in the fifth century, the T.11.2.1.2, so well attested in Corinth, also left significant quantities in Ibiza and on the eastern coasts of Iberia. 497 A significant amount of products from the Circuit of the Straits found their way to Baria, Carthago Nova, and El Tossal de Manises. 498 Further north at Arse/Saguntum containers from the Circuit of the Straits outnumber Carthaginian ones and continue to be present in the second century. 499 Gadir may have been leveraging its ties to Carthage to make a commercial comeback. Gadir’s coinage shows significant developments too. Gadir’s first series was an anepigraphic bronze issue dated to between 300 and 237, with metrology based on Punic- 493 Chaves Tristán 1990. 494 Plin. Nat. 2.181, Liv. 22.19, 29.23.1; Corzo Sánchez 1975, 214–16. 495 Toscano, Pérez, and Campos 2000, 106; for fourth-century wares see: Muñoz Vicente 2003, 51. 496 Muñoz Vicente 2003. 497 Ramón Torres 1995, 651. 498 Muñoz Vicente 2003, 49. 499 Pierre Guérin et al. 2004. 123 Sicilian coinage, perhaps geared toward exchange with Carthage. 500 During the Barcid era Gadir minted several new issues with legends in Phoenician script, including its first and only issue of silver coinage, which also employed a new weight standard. 501 The two legends employed on silver issues are (MHLM/ʻGDR) “minting of Gadir” and (MP’L/ʻGDR) “work of Gadir.” 502 These clearly advertise the political autonomy of the community. The silver was of exceptional purity. During the Roman era, Gadir never mints in silver again. In terms of its economic significance, the coinage is puzzling. Villaronga’s suggestion that the coinage was minted to contribute to Carthaginian military costs was once widely accepted.503 Yet this explanation is unacceptable. Villaronga himself has recently steered away from his older viewpoint. He suggests that the Phoenician legends indicate the origin of the coinage: “Silver coinage of Gadir shows a Phoenician inscription in order to make clear that these pieces are civil, not military.”504 Simple logic also speaks against the coinage being essentially tribute. If Carthage wanted military coinage from Gadir, then why not simply have Gadir mint more Hispano-Carthaginian coins? Gadir could have also supplied rare metals and foodstuffs for Carthage directly if this was what was required. Exchange provides more plausible explanations. The multiple divisions reflect a rising level of monetization and the smallest units, at .34 grams and .21 grams, would have been better suited for exchange than military expenditure. 505 The Incipient monetization spurred by Carthage is an obvious influence but the weight standard was not geared primarily toward 500 For chronologies Alfaro Asíns´ study remains standard: Alfaro Asins 1988, 125–8; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 28. 501 Dating for silver issues primarily from Montemolín hoard: Alfaro Asins 1988, 126. 502 For translations and other possibilities see: Alfaro Asins 1988, 49–58. 503 Villaronga 1986; Alfaro Asins 1988, 126; López Castro 1995, 90–1. 504 Villaronga and Benages 2011, 103. 505 Compare the smallest silver units employed by Carthage, the quarter shekels, with series averaging 1.72 and 1.66 grams, Villaronga and Herrero 1994, 65–67. 124 Carthaginians types. Gadir used the weights standards of Emporion’s drachmas, also adopted by Ebusus. The coins may still have been compatible with Carthaginian coinage because the largest denomination was equal to 2/3 of a Hispano-Carthaginian Shekel. 506 The weight standard indicates the facilitation of exchange with Ebusus and perhaps Emporion. Their limited circulation is admittedly problematic, with all of the finds being local except for one coin, which in fact appears at Emporion. 507 One of Ebusus’ contemporary silver issues appears at Gadir. 508 It is dangerous to push such scarce finds too far but the circulation of amphorae suggests more. Gadir’s products were once again on the rise in eastern Iberia in confluence with those of Ebusus. In the fifth century Gadir’s products had dominated the shores of northeastern Iberia, and their abundance as far north as Arse/Saungtum during our period may indicate a comeback. 509 The coinage could reflect an ambition for facilitating further exchange in those markets. With mining in the regions of Río Tinto in Carthaginian hands, Gadir could have obtained silver through exchange with Carthage. The products arriving at Río Tinto from Gadir supplied Carthaginian needs and exchange for them in silver is not implausible. The items exchanged would not have had to travel far. Such a potentially profitable exchange for Gadir would help explain its capability to make new investments in its fish-salting industries and booming prosperity, proudly signaled by its silver tunas. There are signs of the increased consumption of Carthaginian goods during this time as well as generally increased visibility of consumptive practices. Carthaginian amphorae (T.5.2.3.1) 506 Alexandropoulos 1987. 507 Alfaro Asins 1988, 112. 508 Campo 1976, 64. 509 Asensio i Vilaró 2001; Pierre Guérin et al. 2004. 125 appear in some funerary practices and funerary banquets are more visible during this period. 510 Votives are likewise more visible in the amphorae factories. 511 This activity may reflect the desire to display wealth during this time of increased profits or perhaps some discomfort with the Carthaginian presence, i.e., an identity crisis of sorts, or perhaps both. The region of the Lower Guadalquivir Valley as a whole more widely consumed Mediterranean goods, with Gadir and Spal acting as intermediaries. Gadir was a principal economic entity before the Carthaginians arrived and its third- century inhabitants exploited that position to fuel the economic recovery and growth of their community. Construction at Castillo de Doña and at Gadir’s amphorae factories borrowed technical innovations from the Carthaginian world, facilitated by intensified interaction with Carthaginians. Gadir signaled its new prosperity with its silver coinage, advertising its communal autonomy in plain script and distinguishing itself from the economic and political might of its Carthaginian associates. Summing up, Gadir serves as the clearest example of an allied community whose members developed productive and commercial strategies for exploiting Carthaginian needs. Evidence at Baria and communities in the interior of Contestania may have had similar experiences. Local communities in Iberia had traded with Carthaginians for generations and those links provided important means for establishing and maintaining empire. While direct exploitation of local territory and resources was essential and marks a novelty of the Barcid empire compared to former interests in Iberia and elsewhere, subject and ruler is only one configuration in a wider dynamic. The evidence suggests that previous strategies of facilitating trade remained priorities. To have subjugated every single allied community to heavy tribute 510 Niveau de Villedary 2001b, 190–2; Niveau de Villedary 2014. 511 Sáez Romero 2008a, 143. 126 and internal meddling would have exceeded the capacities and interests of the Carthaginians. Negotiation and mutual interest mattered. The evidence is more ambiguous about the extent to which Carthaginians exercised dominance and enjoyed the upper hand in dealings with vario us allies and there is little reason to doubt that Carthaginians sought and enjoyed such advantages. One wonders how much was demanded for imports from Southern Italy to which Carthaginians may have exercised coveted access. Amid the entanglement of domineering and cooperative negotiations, locals likely experienced a range of satisfying and disappointing dealings. 127 CONCLUSIONS The creation and maintenance of the Barcid empire spurred significant economic activity, from which Carthaginians, Iberians, and Punic inhabitants of Iberia profited. Intensified activities of construction, exchange, and consumption depended on the subjugation and exploitation of local people through conquest, tribute, colonization, mining, and slavery, which spurred significant economic activity overall. These economics of empire mattered a great deal to many of those involved, both those jockeying to profit from the empire and those chaffing under their exploitation by it. Exchange and consumption were experienced through social processes and embedded within them. For some, the Carthaginians were hardly strangers and direct ties with Carthaginians had been forged and maintained for some time and others indirectly through cultural interaction with the Punic World. Those interactions existed within a common cultural milieu in which Carthage’s imperial and economic activities were rooted and without which, economic and imperial activity could not have been so successful or vibrant. Yet, what were the limits of that common cultural ground? To what extent did cultural affinity for the Punic and Carthaginian Worlds matter when Carthaginians began submitting communities to their will? I examine and assess the role cultural affinity played in the Barcid empire in the following chapter. 128 CHAPTER 3: EMPIRE AS CULTURAL INTERACTION: IMPERIAL DISCOURSES Common cultural ground facilitated imperial interactions and in this chapter I show how Carthaginian coinage attempted to identify, foster, and manipulate such common ground. Communities of Phoenician colonial origin had been interacting with indigenous communities of Iberia for over five hundred years before the coming of Carthage (figs. 3.1). Those Phoenician colonies shared a common diasporic origin with Carthage and came to adopt cultural elements from the Carthaginian world from the sixth century onward. Elements of the Puni c world provided common ground to facilitate alliances between Carthage and local communities, both those of Phoenician colonial origin and indigenous communities that had interacted with the Punic world for centuries. In other colonial contexts, Greek, Roman, and Akkadian, common cultural ground facilitated cooperation between local and imperial agents, making it easier for locals to work with, or at least tolerate, imperial presences (see introduction).512 But local Punic communities were not mirror images of one another or much less of Carthage. Carthage was but one important source of cultural influence. Interactions with indigenous communities, environment and economic strategies are just some of the factors which ensured the distinctiveness of “being Punic” in Iberia. Carthaginian strategies reflect sensitivity to this fact, just as they did in their attempts to influence Punic communities in Sardinia and Sicily. In order to facilitate and maintain alliances with local Punic people, Carthaginians, including Hannibal, recognized the need not only to hearken to a shared sense of Punic community but also to recognize local institutions. With regard to indigenous communities I will show that certain strategies were expected to appeal to them too, based on the willingness of locals to consume elements of Punic and Mediterranean culture. Local elites 512 Gosden 2004, 41–113; Malkin 2011. 129 had indeed selectively consumed Punic things for their own ends for centuries. Indigenous interactions with Carthaginians and local Punic communities eased interactions with Carthaginians long before the coming of the Barcid generals. 513 In these ways cultural affinity facilitated imperial discourses which reflect the social interactions and networks that sustained the Barcid empire.514 This idea assumes that culture mattered a great deal for empire. While it has been common in previous generations to focus on the cultural impact that imperial powers had on local communities, most notoriously the Romanization paradigm, the following two chapters turn this approach on its head. It was in fact the other way around. The way cultural elements enabled the rise of the Barcid empire can be understood in two different ways: as active and unconscious processes. In this chapter, I show how Carthaginian officials and locals actively and consciously engaged in imperial and cultural discourse through cult activity and numismatic production, specifically through the deity Melqart-Herakles. In the following chapter, I consider the more indirect and subtle effects that local dispositions (sensu Bourdieu’s habitus) had on the implementation of Carthaginian imperial power. In this chapter I begin with an overview of previous treatments of the cultural dimensions of the Barcid empire and the broader question of Punic and indigenous identities in Iberia. Next is an overview of Carthage’s previous numismatic strategies in Sicily and the role of Melqart-Herakles in Tyre, Carthage, and Iberia before analyzing contemporary coinage. Carthaginian coinage represented Punic Melqart and a syncretistic form of Melqart-Herakles to propagate varied messages to subject and allied communities. The deity’ prior popularity in 513 White 2011; brief discussion below, discussed and utilized in more detail in following chapter. 514 Bendala Galán has already suggested that cultural affinities facilitated conquest and without previous cultural ties between locals and the Carthaginian world, conquest could not have occurred so rapidly Bendala Galán 1994, 65. 130 southern Iberia offered an obvious point of departure for numismatic iconographies. Carthage’s first (c. 235) issue of silver coins featured Melqart on the obverse and a combination of marine icons on the reverse that evoked numismatic imagery from Phoenician cities in the Levant such as Tyre. Aimed primarily at communities of Phoenician origin, this imagery emphasized their common ethnic origin with Carthage and reassured them that their civic autonomy would be respected. Carthage’s second series of coins syncretized Melqart with Herakles by including a club on the obverse. This imagery emphasized the warlike qualities of the popular Greek hero and his travels in Iberia in order appeal to the martial prowess of Barcid soldiers recruited from local communities and to manipulate legends about the hero’s adventures in Iberia to legitimize conquest. Above all these coins demonstrate a desire to interact with the network of local cults devoted to forms of the god, as demonstrated by Hannibal’s visited the temple of Melqart- Herakles at Gadir on the eve of his campaign against Rome in 218. Local cult was an obvious and crucial point of contact in order to interact with local communities and influence them. And it was starting to elicit responses. During the Barcid era local communities issued coinage of their own, borrowing and adapting Carthaginian motifs. Punic Gadir, the only southern community that minted before Carthage’s arrival, resisted Carthage’s new images, preserving its own traditional iconography of Melqart-Herakles wearing a lion skin, but added a club, a subtle association with Barcid motifs and power. Elsewhere Punic Seks adopted iconographies from both Gadir and Carthage, identifying itself with the prestige of both. While some communities utilized the cult connection to gain prestige by associating with Carthage, others may have resented Carthage’s identifications with their communal deities. Iberian Arse/Saguntum imitation of Carthage’s Melqart-Herakles coins may demonstrate a façade of submission in the face of Carthaginian occupation, but it is more likely that the mimetic appropriation should be read primarily as an act of resistance. For the many other communities 131 that recognized the deity but which did not mint coinage during this time, their reactions belong somewhere along this spectrum, from active and beneficial engagement to ambivalent resistance. More important than the overall effectiveness of this ideological strategy is the expectation that it would be positively received and taken seriously at all. Examining these attempts to manipulate affinities for Melqart-Herakles offers a better understanding of how Carthaginian leadership intended the image of its presence to be disseminated and perceived, providing a view of how this empire functioned on a social and cultural level. PART 1. EMPIRE AND IDENTITIES The cultural dimensions of Barcid imperialism have received little scholarly treatment. This is mainly because its brief present is believed to have had little lasting impact. 515 What has been argued is that the Barcids set out to actively Hellenize local populations as Carthage itself had become increasingly Hellenized. This “Hellenizing” mission behind the Barcid conquest is misleading and has largely relied upon reading the Barcid coinage as reflective of an essentially Hellenistic mode of imperialism inspired by Alexander and the Diadochi. 516 This view has recently come under criticism and rightly so. 517 Any discussion of the cultural impact of Carthaginian imperialism should be seen in Punic terms first, but again, there is little reason to argue that the Carthaginians attempted to “Punicize” local populations either. There is no evidence for this. The idea resembles the Romanization paradigm, which scholars have for some 515 Llobregat’s work is indicative in its minimization of Carthage’s cultural impact, Sala Sellés 2004, 85. This is reflective of the larger indigenous turn, that emphasized autochthonous inspiration for cultural development against previous generations of scholarship that celebrated Carthagini an influence on native cultures, Ferrer Albelda 1996. 516 Blázquez Martínez 1976; Bendala Galán 1994; García-Bellido 2013b. 517 Ferrer Albelda 2011b, who argues that Carthaginian action and the coinage specifically, fit well within the traditional patterns of Punic religion and I shall further elaborate on how it resembled previous numismatic strategies; for problems with Hellenization of Carthage in general see: Fumadó Ortega 2013; González Wagner 1986. 132 time come to reject as an active Roman agenda, as Ronald Syme and others have indicated. 518 Rather than a policy to impose cultural dispositions, Carthaginian actions reflect appeals to elements to which they expected locals to already be receptive. Local communities themselves have only recently begun to be taken seriously in their own right. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill poses an essential follow up to this matter: “Did they feel themselves bound by deep historical and cultural ties, and if so, what difference did that make?”519 I argue that in approaching local Punic communities, Carthaginians fashioned and appealed to an imagined “Phoenicity,” while trying to respect and negotiate local “Punicities.”520 This part of my study fits well within this larger dialogue about identity in the Punic world, where Carthaginians clash with ways of being Punic in Iberia. In my next chapter I will further complicate the notion of static ethnic identities by focusing on interactions and intermingling between local Punic and indigenous communities, beginning with the earliest phases of Phoenician colonization. Yet here I am not concerned with identity per se. The evidence is often insufficient to determine individual or communal self-adscription to specific categories of identity. Instead, I focus on identifications, for which the numismatic material is better suited (see introduction).521 Through coinage local communities crafted distinctive civic identities by signaling local traditions and values; Carthaginian coinage appealed to those values, particularly to traditions related to Melqart-Herakles, while in more particular instances also trying to situate the deity within the wider imagined community of Phoenician migrants. Forms of Melqart, Herakles, or both, became important in some local indigenous communities too. Indigenous communities were interacting with the material culture of the 518 Syme 1983; Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 17–28; D. J. Mattingly 2011, 22–26, 38–41. 519 Quinn and Vella 2014, 302. 520 I draw some inspiration from Anderson 1991. 521 Quinn 2013, 28. 133 Punic World and along with those objects, Punic customs and ideas. The deity was one among many points of contact for engaging with the Punic world. Still, it is not my intention to imply homogeneity, for processes of consumption were diverse in form, intensity, and motive. I now turn to the development of cult to Melqart-Herakles in Iberia to contextualize the discourse that arose during the Barcid period. PART 2. MELQART-HERAKLES AND CULTIC NETWORKING A shared cultural milieu between Carthaginians and locals in Iberia facilitated the conquest and consolidation of the Barcid empire, paving the way to forge political relationships. This process is visible on an active and intentional level through the coinage that Carthage minted and local responses to it. Configurations of Melqart-Herakles were a central point in that dialogue. An overview of the deity’s significance to Carthage and communities in Iberia is required to appreciate these dynamics. Melqart was the principal and founding deity of Tyre, serving as a key institution for the temple, monarchy, and Mediterranean colonization. 522 The god was linked with the founding myths of Carthage and Gadir as well as other Phoenician communities, providing an institutional link between new colonies and the Tyrian monarchy and temple, leading to Melqart’s introduction to Iberia, where syncretism with Greek Herakles eventually followed. 523 This made the deity an obvious point of contact for engaging with locals. The god played a key role in Carthage’s founding and remained important into Barcid times. In Carthage’s founding myth, Elissa’s husband, Zakarbaal, was the high priest of Melqart, and Elissa brought Melqart’s relics with her to North Africa. 524 Melqart remained an important deity throughout Carthaginian history, with epigraphic attestation of a temple to the god; his 522 Bonnet 1988, 112–3; Aubet Semmler 2009, 267–75; Hdt. 2.44, Nonnus Dion. 40.422. 523 Aubet Semmler 2009, 282; for Carteia’s founding myth see Strabo 3.1.7. 524 Justin 18.4, Virg. Aen 1.343, 348; cf. Cic. De Natura Deorum 3.42. 134 name also has about 1500 attestations as an element in personal names. 525 Through Melqart, Carthaginians maintained their ancestral connection to Tyre, sending an annual offering to Melqart at Tyre up to Polybius’ own day. 526 Melqart was one of the Punic deities whom Hannibal invoked for his oath to Philip the V. 527 Three funerary razors from third-century Carthage reveal evolving visual conceptions of the deity, with one depicting Melqart in more traditional fashion with beard, headdress, and axe while the other two favored Hellenized imagery featuring lion skin and club, as did his representation on coins. 528 Melqart remained an important deity within the Carthaginian pantheon and served as a link to the city’s colonial past and mother city, a link that the Carthaginians carefully preserved into the Barcid era. 529 In Iberia, Melqart was recognized in a number of communities, but was exceptionally significant in the religious, economic, and political life of Gadir, from the colony’s foundation into the Roman imperial era. Melqart’s sanctuary was coterminous with the colony’s founding (c. eighth century).530 The temple was erected on the southern island of the archipelago where statues depicting “smiting gods” have been recovered from the sea, possible votives con nected to the temple.531 Gadir’s temple had two altars of bronze, which Posidonius identifies as the famous Pillars of Hercules; these may mirror the two pillars at Melqart’s temple at Tyre, of gold 525 Bonnet 1988, 167–72; CIS 264. 526 Diod. 20.14.2, Arrian 2.24.5; Pol. 31.12. Diodorus’ testimony is explicit about the colonial element: “Since they came as colonists from that city, they had become accustomed in the earlier period to send to the god a tenth of everything coming into public revenue” (ἀποικισθέντες γὰρ ἐκ ταύτης εἰώθεισαν ἐν τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν χρόνοις δεκάτην ἀποστέλλειν τῷ θεῷ πάντων τῶν εἰς πρόσοδον πιπτόντων). Epigraphic evidence likewise attests to individuals in each city referencing ties to the other city, Bonnet 2014, 293. 527 Pol. 7.9; Bickerman 1952b. 528 Bonnet 1988, 220–22; the reverse of a Hellenizing blade also may depict Li byan Typhon, Nitschke 2013, 269. 529 Quinn 2011, 388. 530 Strabo 3.5.5; Diod. 5.20.1-2. For review of literary sources: Bonnet 1988, 203–25; general overview of temple: García y Bellido 1963. 531 Strabo 3.5.5; Antonine Itinerary 408.3-4; Blanco Freijeiro 1985; de Frutos Reyes and Muñoz Vicente 2008, 244–51. 135 and emerald.532 The temple legitimated the colonial enterprise while also serving as a political and commercial link to the metropolis of Tyre. 533 On a local scale the temple would have received taxes and offerings, served as a bank, and acted as a sacred guarantor for transactions, functioning as an institution for l ocal and regional exchange. 534 The temple was probably involved with the issuing of Gadir’s first coinage, which presents images of Melqart-Herakles and may have been related to Gadir’s salt-fish industry.535 Herodotus associates the story of Herakles and Geryon explicitly with Gadir, noting that Geryon lived on Gadir’s island of Erytheia. 536 The temple caught the attention of Roman authors from the first century BCE through the fifth century CE, attracting high profile visitors such as Julius Caesar; the Spanish emperor Hadrian even issued an aureus featuring its Romanized deity, Hercules Gaditanus (fig. 3.2).537 The temple was the westernmost point in a pan-Mediterranean network of Melqart shrines which Phoenician seafarers frequented on westward routes, with counterparts in Cyprus, Malta, and Nora. 538 Avienus records the visits of Phoenician sailors to thank Melqart for protection. 539 Within Iberia itself, Gadir’s temple was merely the most renowned site devoted to the deity within a growing cultic network in southern Iberia. 532 Mierse 2004, 267–9, Posideonius = Strabo 3.5.5, Philostr. VA 5.5; for Tyre’s altars: Hdt. 2.44, Theophr. De Lapidibus 25, Pliny NH 37.19; Tyre’s temple not yet excavated, for Levantine models: Mierse 2004. 533 Bunnens 119-125 in Bonnet, Lipiński, and Marchetti 1986, Bonnet 1988, 219; Gadir may also have reinforced connections with Tyre through gift sending, similar to the Carthaginian practice (Diod. 20.14.2). 534 Aubet Semmler 2009, 279–84; role as a treasury (Livy 28.36.2); 535 Sáez Romero 2009. 536 Hdt. 4.8.2; later Greeks thought Geryon’s tomb was at Gadir too: Philostr. V A 5.4. 537 Suet. Iul. 7.1, Caesar’s own account of a later encounter with the temple during the civil war Caes . B. Civ. 2.21.4; for Hannibal see below. Diodorus (Diod. 5.20.3) emphasizes the temple’s “extraordinary renown” (τιμᾶσθαι περιττότερον) from its founding into contemporary times as well as its attraction of distinguished visitors. Also known to Arrian and mentioned in context of Alexander’s siege of Tyre, Arr. Anab. 2.16.4. Aureus: Mattingly 1923, 3:273 nos. 274–276, British Museum 1864, 1128.269. 538 Aubet Semmler 2009, 283; 129–160; eventually Lixus was added even further west (Pliny NH 19.22). 539 Avienus, Ora Maritima 358. 136 The deity’s popularity in southern Iberia is beyond question.540 It becomes most visible when communities in the region began minting during the Barcid era, with Melqart and syncretic configurations with Herakles appearing on the coinage of Seks, Arse/Saguntum, Saetabi, and perhaps at Castulo and Baria as well. Yet Melqart-Herakles’ popularity becomes most apparent when local minting explodes during the following two centuries ( fig. 3.3).541 Deities appearing with lion skins542 and sometimes also clubs are represented on the coinage of the coastal Punic communities of Bailo543 (Balonia, Cádiz) and Carteia (San Roque, Cádiz ) as well as among inland communities at Asido (Medina Sidonia, Cádiz), Callet (El Coronil, Sevilla), Carisa (Espera, Cádiz), Carmo544 (Carmona, Seville), Iptuci (Cabezo de Hortales, Cádiz), Lascuta (Alcalá de los Gazules, Cádiz), Salacia545 (Alcácer do Sal, Portugal), Searo (Torre del Águila, Sevilla), and Sisipo-Detumo (figs. 3.4 & 3.5).546 Gadir’s regional importance may have influenced some of these communities’ iconographic choices. 547 While it is difficult to further assess the significance that particular communities attached to these images, Olmos argues that some of these images should reflect foundation myths. 548 Strabo provides corroboration for the case of Carteia, reporting a tradition that Carteia had been founded by Herakles.549 Arse/Saguntum’s coinage likewise correlates with a Herakles foundation associated with the community. 550 The god’s 540 “There is no doubt about Melqart’s popularity in southern Iberia” (No hay ninguna duda sobre la importancia del culto de Melkart en Iberia): (García-Bellido 1991, 49). 541 García-Bellido 1991, 51–5. 542 I only include communities that use the lion skin, the least ambiguous icon for the deity. In some cases a figure with a club was probably intended as Melqart-Herakles, but I have only included those communities if they also is sued figures with lion skins. This list could be expanded if communities only using clubs were included, but their significance as a depiction of Melqart-Herakles would be less certain. So I have omitted the coins of Punic Abdera, despite their common acceptance as depictions of Melqart. 543 García-Bellido 1991, 52. 544 Chaves Tristán 2001. 545 García-Bellido 1991, 52. 546 Moreno Pulido 2009. 547 Alicia Jiménez 2014, 229–33. 548 Olmos Romera 1998, 152–4. 549 Strabo 3.1.7. 550 Sil. Ital. Pun. 1.1271-295, 369; Ripollés Alegre and Llorens 2002, 29. 137 regional importance can be expanded even further if numismatic depictions among sites along coastal Algeria are included. 551 The extent to which these representations reveal the ideological influence of Greek myths, that is, how far these reveal Greek content and not just artisti c forms, is difficult to assess.552 Syncretism is a complex process. Syncretism between Phoenician Melqart and Greek Herakles had been well under way for centuries before the Barcid period. 553 Herodotus writes that Greek Herakles was inspired by the Phoenician Melqart established at Thasos (Thasian Herakles).554 Yet after Herakles developed a Greek identity, Hellenic visual features influence the depiction of Melqart in Phoenician Kition in the fifth century.555 The process was clearly a product of colonial interaction between Greeks and Phoenicians. 556 This is why Herodotus refers to Melqart sometimes as Tyrian Herakles and other times simply as Herakles, thus recognizing Melqart and Herakles as compatible. 557 Herodotus explains his views on such compatibility, with gods’ names and the idiosyncrasies of cult being particular to cultural groups. 558 By Roman Imperial times Gadir’s temple featured the twelve labors of Herakles on its doors, though it is not clear exactly when these Greek elements were adopted. 559 Yet even as Greek aspects was gaining acceptance, Phoenician customs of the cult also persisted into the 551 Arévalo González and Moreno Pulido 2011, 358. 552 Fear with a more optimistic view toward syncretism: “Given the Punic element in the population along Baetica’s southern coastline and the great prestige of the temple at Gades, dedications to Heracles in the provinces are as likely to be to Melqart in his syncretized form, as to the classical Heracles,” Fear 1996, 237. 553 Bonnet 1988, 399–415. 554 Hdt. 2.44. 555 (Demetriou 2001, 138–41; sculptures of the deity bearing a club and weari ng a lion skin, similarly represented in contemporary and subsequent coinage; Kition housed a temple to Melqart-Herakles too, with sculpture of the deity with club and lion skin; extent of adoption of Greek traditions about deity unclear: Nitschke 2013, 267 n. 49. 556 Nitschke 2013, 258; Malkin 2011, 119–142. 557 Hdt. 2.44. 558 On Zeus and Ammon see Hdt. 2.50, 52; Malkin 2005, 246–7. 559 12 labors: Philastr. 5.5. Some claim it may have occurred even before our period, in the fifth century when Gadir’s pan-Mediterranean trade picked up, but this is merely speculative, Oria Segura 2002, 227. 138 Roman period. 560 As local communities were becoming increasingly integrated into the cultural koine of the Mediterranean world of the third and second centuries, the y likely adopted, rejected, reinterpreted and intermingled exogenous elements in their reception of the deity. 561 At Bailo, images of Melqart-Herakles suggest that the deity acquired stronger maritime elements, whereas ears of grain in place of clubs in Salacia’s coinage suggest stronger agrarian dimensions. 562 Even for Gadir, for which information is plentiful, the process by which Punic Melqart shifts towards Herakles and Hercules is murky. A second-century bilingual inscription from Punic Malta provides a view into Melqart- Herakles syncretism, where a person whose first language appears to be Punic honors Melqart in Punic and Herakles in Greek. 563 The speaker also translates his own name, calling himself Abdosir in Punic and Dionysius in Greek. It seems Abdosir/Dionysius wanted to evoke two aspects of his identity to make the benefaction complete. 564 In the Greek, the inscription refers to Melqart as “Herakles Archegetes” (Ἡρακλεῖ Ἀρχηγέτει) and labels the speaker as “Tyrian,” while in the Punic the god is simply referred to as “Melqart, Baal of Tyre” and the speaker’s ethnicity is not made explicit. The Greek Ἀρχηγέτει (founder) explains the god’s foundational connection to Tyre. 565 With regards to which god a viewer might have seen, Mariah Liv Yarrow has argued that it could be both at once. 566 Similarly Yarrow observes that the artistic production of Siculo-Punic coins of Melqart-Herakles tetradrachms “[were] minted by and for 560 Diod. 5.20.s, Silius Pun. 3.23-4. 561 Keay 2013, 305, 317; Stewart and Shaw 1994, 16–23. 562 García-Bellido 1991, 52–3. 563 IG XIV 600 = CIS I.122 and 122bis. For texts and translations see, Bonnet 1988, 245. 564 Yarrow 2013, 358; Bonnet 1988, 244–7; Malkin 2011, 128. 565 Bonnet 1988, 246. 566 Yarrow 2013, 357–8. 139 men who lived in a world governed by particularly diverse cultural influences.” 567 I employ the name Melqart-Herakles with the understanding that a viewer might see one or both. 568 Melqart-Herakles’ local popularity provided the Carthaginians with an important point of cultural contact. Hispano-Carthaginian coinage has typically been read in terms of its possible messages to its soldiers and its anti-Roman propaganda, and these are indeed valid readings. With soldiers trading in local communities, these local cities became starting points for the dissemination of these images, and some of the coins were minted at Gadir itself and perhaps Carmo.569 But, the ideological impact of coins can be multivalent and the local significance of the deity has received too little emphasis compared to other ideological elements. For a viewer such as Abdosir/Dionysius, the imagery could similarly evoke Tyrian heritage and the cult networks in which the practices of men like Abdosir/Dionysius were embedded. Melqart-Herakles’s popularity among local communities offered the Carthaginians a religious network with which to identify and interact. Cult provided concrete spaces in which links between past and present could be reiterated and showcased. 570 Yarrow has shown how Carthaginians utilized coinage to engage with worshipers of Melqart-Herakles in Sicily where myths operated as both products and catalysts of social interaction. 571 From the perspective of network theory, Irad Malkin has emphasized how Carthaginians and Greeks in Sicily identified themselves with networks devoted to the cult of Melqart-Herakles to align themselves with the 567 Yarrow 2013, 356; cf. Strabo 3.2.13 and García-Bellido 1991, 50. 568 To clarify my use of terms for coinage, where Melqart is represented by cities of Phoenician origin without any of the syncretic icons associated with Herakles, namely clubs and or lion skins, I refer to the deity simply as Melqart, just as I refer to the deity as Herakles in more clearly Greek contexts. When coinage in Punic contexts does make use of Hellenic icons I will use the name Melqart-Herakles. 569 García-Bellido 2010, 213. 570 Bonnet 2014, 290. 571 Yarrow 2013, 350. 140 patrons of those cults. 572 The Carthaginians utilized the popularity of Melqart in Sardinia in a similar fashion to consolidate economic ties on the island. 573 The Carthaginians were not the only ones to utilize Herakles to emphasize shared heritage with those whom they sought to influence. Macedonian leaders played a similar game in their cultural appeals to Greek communities. Alexander I alleged descent from Herakles in order to gain admittance into the Olympics.574 Philip II of Macedon utilized numismatic imagery, including Herakles iconography, to promote himself as a philhellene. 575 In each of these instances the outsider appeals to religious beliefs shared within a network of insiders to gain acceptance and legitimacy. The use of Melqart-Herakles via Hispano-Carthaginian coinage conforms to previous, longer term patterns in Carthaginian coinage. PART 3. APPROACHING CARTHAGINIAN COINAGE I now offer an overview of Carthaginian coinage. Carthage’s first coins were minted in the late fifth century to fund military campaigns in Sicily. 576 From the start Carthaginians appropriated established coin types in Sicily. The prancing horse was originally a feature of Syracusan coinage which the Carthaginians quickly appropriated. 577 This adoption locates Punic culture within the Greek milieu of disseminating images. Susan Frey-Kuper has shown how the Carthaginians made “deliberate use of a limited range of generic types across a wide area of 572 Malkin 2011, 139. 573 Miles 2011a, 104–5; Lipiński 1989, 67–70. This is demonstrated by a third-century dedicatory inscription for a temple to Melqart at Tharros which explicitly names shophets from Carthage. 574 Malkin 2004, 354. 575 Isoc. Philippus. Isocrates seems to have been convinced; he evokes Philip’s descent from Herakles in the letter. 576 Visonà 1998, 4. 577 Frey-Kupper 2014, 85. 141 Carthaginian control.”578 Iconographic choices were conservative, with images of Tanit dominating obverse imagery and horses and palms on the reverse, evoking Carthage itself and broader notions of Punic identity. The palm tree (φοῖνιξ) serves as a fertility symbol but also a possible pun on “Phoenician.”579 Over time, the persistent dissemination of these symbols permitted their semantic field to shift and broaden, so that Tanit, horses, and palms could all be recognized as signifiers of the Carthaginian state while also cueing the broader embrace of Punic communities in the Central Mediterranean. 580 Tanit’s image was especially potent because of its appeal to tophet users. In Punic Sicily and Sardinia Carthaginians coinage regularly employed images of Tanit on the obverse with combinations of horses and or palms on the reverse, appealing to the popularity of the goddess within the regions.581 Tanit’s popularity is likewise reflected within tophet-using communities in Sicily and Sardinia (fig. 3.6). Quinn has suggested that tophet-using communities functioned as a network, with “criss-crossing identifications” being made between them.582 Carthage became an especially prominent member of this network as tophet-using communities began to articulate features resembling the visual culture of Carthage’s tophet in the sixth century. 583 When Carthage began to produce supra-regional coinage in the late fifth century, the reiteration of images of Tanit was another way of signaling identifications within this shared cultural milieu. Among communities in Iberia, where no tophet culture is evident, Melqart provided a more logical of contact. Yet there was some previous experimentation with Melqart in Siculo-Punic coinage prior to the Barcid era. 578 Frey-Kupper 2014, 77. 579 Frey-Kupper 2014, 85. 580 Yarrow 2013, 348; Bhabha 1994. 581 Frey-Kupper 2014. 582 Quinn 2013, 36. 583 Quinn 2013, 34. 142 Melqart-Herakles coinage in Sicily demonstrates Carthaginian use of the deity and the development of the imagery. The earliest depiction of Melqart-Herakles occur in the early fourth-century coinage of Punic Solus, which feature an image of Melqart wearing a lion skin, with a seahorse on the reverse. Solus minted continued to mint coinage featuring the deity int o the following century (figs. 3.7.1-3). 584 Hekataios records that Herakles founded the community.585 Given the possibly mixed population of the city, the use of Greek visual language for its coinage is not surprising. The community also issued coins depicting a bearded male with an earring, which resembles the first issues of Carthaginian depictions of Melqart (fig. 3. 7.4). In the last quarter of the fourth century a rare issue of coins featured a bearded male wearing a wreath and earing, bearing the legend RŠMLQRT. Far more widespread were coins with the same legend depicting female heads surrounded by dolphins on the obverse. The location of the mint is unknown. Suggestions include a Carthaginian colony at Selinunte, to which inscriptions at Carthage and Tharros with the term RSMLQRT may refer. 586 The legend could also reflect a military unit, “Head of Melqart.” 587 The inscription has led scholars to identify the male as Melqart. Its resemblance to the bearded male with an earring at Solus corroborates this suggestion.588 This bearded version may be an alternative representation to the more Hellenized Melqart with lion scalp. The Barcids would later use a bearded male wearing a wreath to depict Melqart-Herakles. Near the start of the third century Carthage released an issue of Melqart-Herakles tetradrachms that circulated widely throughout the island (fig. 3.7.6). The obverse imagery 584 Thuc. 6.2.6 hints at its Phoenician founding in possibly the eighth or seventh centuries. 585 Malkin 2011, 136; Heakatoios FGrHist 1 F 71-72. 586 For colony see Tusa via Pilkington 2013, 280–2. 587 Mildenberg 1993, Yarrow 2013, 358–9; the legend is sometimes read as “Cape of Melqart,” presumably an unidentified toponym. For a good summary of views see: Manfredi 1995, 115–18. 588 Jenkins 1997, 55. 143 demonstrates precise and deliberate imitation of Alexander the Great’s tetradrachms. 589 Based on hoards their minting has been dated to the reign of Agathocles from 305 to 295. The design marks a dramatic break in traditional minting of female images; for over a century Carthaginian minters had consistently reiterated images of Tanit/Demeter and had recently introduced a type with Arethusa.590 In their Siculo-Punic context, the imagery of the coinage evoked visual language that would promote images of military and economic strength for men within a particularly diverse cultural milieu. The appropriation of this eastern iconography distinguishes from Syracusan models while providing a visual message that would be broadly comprehensible, recognizable as Melqart to its Carthaginian audience and as Herakles to Greek rivals. 591 Yarrow also argues that this coinage reveals the process by which Herakles imagery becomes naturalized not only with Melqart but with notions of Carthaginian power, a process that had been unfolding in Sicily for centuries.592 At about the same time Gadir began to emit its first coinage and experiment with Melqart-Herakles imagery too. Methods for interpreting the social significance of these objects and images have been addressed in the introduction to this work. One remarkable feature of Carthaginian coinage that requires comment here is its determined lack legends. The earliest coinage copied contemporary Greek models by employing the civic legend KARTHADAST, but the tactic was quickly dropped for subsequent coinage. 593 Unlike Rome and many Greek cities, when Carthage finally began emitting coinage, it controlled territory far beyond the terrestrial boundaries of the city. The omission of any explicit link to 589 Jenkins 1978; the inscriptions on the two series, which Jenkins argues were minted contemporaneously, read “people of the camp” (MMHNT or MHMHNT) and “of the financial officials” (MHSBM). 590 Jenkins 1977. 591 Nitschke 2013, 266; Yarrow 2013, 256–9; while Jenkins has argued that association with Alexander sought to represent Carthage as a great power of the west, widespread recognition of Alexander’s coinage at this time has been called into question. 592 Yarrow 2013, 359; Malkin 2011, 134–41. 593 Frey-Kupper 2014, 80–81. 144 Carthage destabilizes the merely civic connotations of the coinage to enable a broader appeal of its supra-regional iconography. This intentional ambiguity made it possible for the coinage to evoke a range of possible identifications, enabling local Punic communities to identify imagery at once with Carthage while also enabling local interpretations. The rather straightforward imagery also encouraged local imaginings, whereas more complex arrays of symbols and constantly changing motifs with narrower messages, such as those that Roman coinage exhibits during the Late Republic and Empire, appear intentionally avoided.594 While the semantic specificity of the complex and fluid iconography of late Roman coinage risked baffling its users, the flexible ambiguity of Carthage’s issues invited broader identifications. Hispano-Carthaginian coinage utilized the same ideological flexibility that Carthaginian iconographies always had. The final series of Hispano-Carthaginian coinage entirely omitted iconographic symbols on the obverses, reflecting the intention of maximizing its appeal to less familiar Iberian communities amid the war with Rome. 595 Yet the first two issues of Hispano- Carthaginian coinage employ Melqart and Melqart-Herakles imagery, with a clear intention of influencing local Punic allies and utilizing Herakles’ mythos, particularly his adventures in Iberia. 594 Such Roman strategies have led scholars such as Crawford to question whether the message of such coins could ever have been understood by the majority of Roman coin users. 595 Villaronga Series XI, more comments below. 145 PART 4. BARCID ERA COINAGE Under Barcid leadership various issues of silver coinage were struck, with Melqart- Herakles imagery being the most widely attested of the silver issues prior to the Second Punic War.596 Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage: Warship Series The first series that Hamilcar issued feature a diademed male facing left on the obverse, which is commonly accepted to depict Melqart; the reverse features the prow of a warship with an aquatic creature in the field that varies with the denominations, featuring a dolphin on the single and triple shekels and a seahorse on the double shekels (figs. 3.8.1-2).597 Its minting can be linked to near the time of Hamilcar’s landing at Gadir on grounds of its circulation and style. Finds have been restricted to southwestern Iberia (fig. 3.9). Stylistically it has clear parallels with Sicilian models, which may indicate that its artists, who accompanied Hamilcar from Sicily, were at first still relying on Sicilian coinage for inspiration. 598 Some have identified this obverse image to be a personal portrait of Hasdrubal the son- in-law of Hamilcar, in the fashion of a Hellenistic king; this and other such identifications of obverses with Barcid generals remain purely speculative. 599 The majority of experts have 596 Villaronga’s Series VII and VIII, featuring Persephone/Tanit and Tanit respectively, were also copious but minted later, once conquest in the south had stabilized. Their employment should be viewed as commercial in nature, especially as series VIII also i ntroduced bronze issues. The iconography of these issues and the use of bronze may indicate the desire to facilitate commerce, for which images traditionally associated with the Carthaginian state (Tanit, horses, and palm trees) held fiduciary value. Villa rgona’s series IV-VI are so small (12 examples total between all three series are considered in Villaronga’s corpus) that they may be omitted from this discussion. 597 This is Villaronga’s class II, unless otherwise noted I follow the chronology of Villaron ga’s corpus on the Barcid Coins: Villaronga 1973. 598 (Martínez Chico 2014, 36; Villaronga 1973, 49. 599 See note 49. First developed by Beltrán Martínez 1949 and proliferated by Robinson in Carson and Sutherland 1956, elaborated via artistic comparisons to the Volubulis bust by Picard 1961; more recently: Blázquez Martínez 1976 and García-Bellido in Remedios, Prados, and Bermejo 2012. The inconsistencies of this interpretation have been attacked variously by: Villaronga 1973, 47–56; Acquaro 1983; Hoyos 146 rejected this argument. The lack of eponymous inscriptions is an obvious conflict with Hellenistic royal coinage. Another problem is Polybius’ explicit rejection of a pro-Roman tradition about the Barcids operating as independent kings. 600 The strongest fact against a personalized portrait is that the obverses closely imitate the diademed males on Hiero the II´s coinage. 601 Perhaps Hannibal and others may have welcomed euhemeristic comparison between themselves and deities, but these conjectures remain untestable. Yet the numismatic evidence is sufficient to show precedents for their representations of Melqart and Herakles and how they inspire minting from local communities. The image resembles other diademed males configured as Melqart, Herakles, or perhaps their combination in the western Mediterranean. Tyre itself commonly mints a figure of Melqart with a laurel wreath in its second-century coinage (fig. 3.8.3).602 A Roman didrachm dated between 269 and 266 utilized a diademed male to represent Hercules, identifiable by the club and lion skin on the shoulders; its reverse features Romulus and Remus as well as the legend ROMANO (fig. 3.8.4).603 Hamilcar had firsthand experience with diademed males on coins being used against Carthage by the Libyan rebels. 604 The rebels overstruck Carthaginian coins and employed two versions of Melqart-Herakles, one with a diademed male on obverse with what appears to be a club on his shoulder and certainly a club on the reverse, the other with a male wearing a lion skin obverse; both coinages featured a prowling lion on the reverse with “of 1994; López Castro 1995, 81–4; Blázquez Martínez, Alvar Ezquerra, and González Wagner 1999, 284 –6; Ferrer Albelda 2011b, 311–3; most recent summary of views and deconstruction of the “Barcid Portrait” school: Martínez Chico 2014, 36–8. 600 Polyb. 3.8-9; for a thorough treatment about the politics of Barcid appointments in Iberia, see Hoyos 1994. 601 A point originally made by Villaronga and discussed more recently by Martínez Chico 2014, 34–8. 602 SNG Vol: III 3230. 603 RRC 20/1. 604 Yarrow 2013, 359–64. 147 the Libyans” (ΛΙΒΥΩΝ) in the legend (figs. 3.8.5-6).605 The rebels chose Herakles in order to appropriate emblems of political power and conquest to legitimate their armed rejection of Carthaginian authority.606 Returning to the Hispano-Carthaginian series, since the iconography does not utilize any of Greek Herakles’ icons, the obverse image is often read simply as Melqart.607 The basic significance of Melqart’s local popularity has not been lost on scholars.608 While I fully agree, more can be said about how weight standard and reverse imagery reinforces the deity’s Levantine and colonial associations. The coins employ the old Phoenician weight standard of the shekel, instead of the drachma system employed in Sicily. The reverse imagery combines images from coinage of the Phoenician Levant, so that as a whole the coins present a totalizing image of Phoenician ethnic origins. The reverse imagery has received almost no comment from scholars. 609 The reverse of this series features a warship with an aquatic creature beneath. A warship is an unusual choice. Despite Carthage’s naval supremacy up to the First Punic War, Carthage had never employed warships on its coinage. Fernando López Sánchez has read the ship as an appropriation of Roman imagery to justify conquest against Rome, but this puts the cart before the horse. 610 The problems with the Barcid revenge tradition have been addressed already (chapter two).611 While the warship may reflect the loss of Carthaginian confidence in its 605 Crawford 1985, 135–8; Manfredi 1995, 155–7, 260–3; Yarrow 2013, 360. 606 Yarrow 2013, 361–4. 607 Villaronga 1973, 48–9; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 34; Martínez Chico 2014, 37; one might read it as a syncretism of Melqart-Herakles due to the use of the Hellenic imagery of Sicily, Miles 2011a, 220–1, but its Greek valence doesn’t affect my argument. 608 Villaronga 1973, 48–9; Acquaro 1983, 86; López Castro 1995, 81–84; Alfaro Asins 1993a, 31; Miles 2011a, 220–21. 609 Villaronga 1973, 61. 610 López Sánchez 2002, 21. 611 For comprehensive and convincing deconstruction of this tradition, see: Hoyos 1998. 148 naval prowess, the imagery identifies with the naval imagery of coinage from Phoenician Levantine communities. Four Phoenician communities in the Levant minted coinage during the fifth century up to the conquest of Alexander: Tyre, Byblos, Arwad, and Sidon. The warship featured on the coinage of all of these cities except for Tyre, though its coinage featured Melqart and the same aquatic creatures. Identification with these other cities likewise offered prestige to Carthage; Strabo recounts a rivalry that had developed between Tyre and Sidon for recognition as metropolis of the Phoenicians. 612 Sidon utilized the warship on almost all of its coinage from its inception in the mid fifth century to the coming of Alexander (fig. 3.10.3). Arward’s coinage features a wreathed male deity, perhaps Melqart, with warships appearing on all of its coinage throughout the Persian period (figs. 3.10.4 & 3.10.6). For Byblos, from the late fifth century ships were included on virtually every coin it minted (fig. 3.10.5).613 The cities had reiterated these images for centuries, rendering prestige to its redeployment by Carthage. By evoking a range of cities beyond simply Tyre, the imagery draws associations with the wider Levantine community involved in Mediterranean trade and colonization.614 The marine creatures in the field beneath warships are a dolphin on the triple and single shekels and a seahorse on the double shekels (figs. 3.10.1-2). The Levantine associations of these maritime creatures have been almost entirely overlooked by scholars. 615 Tyre featured dolphins on the obverse of its earliest coinage at the end of the fifth century (fig. 3.10.7). Throughout the fourth century a dolphin is placed in the field beneath the deity, generally 612 Strabo 16.2.22. Sidon appears to have become the most prominent and wealthy of the Phoenician cities during the Achaemenid period: Betlyon 1989, 3, Diod. Sic. 16.41. 613 Elayi 2014, 31. 614 Sidon and Arward’s involvement in Phoenician trade: Ezikiel 27.8, Aubet Semmler 2001, 120–6; 615 Villaronga noted the seahorse employed beneath a prow in the coinage of Byblos but otherwise emphasizes how the aquatic iconography emphasizes the maritime attributes of Gadir’s Melqart, Villaronga 1973, 48; cf. Avienus Ora Maritima 358-60. 149 accepted as Melqart, riding a seahorse (fig. 3.10.8).616 The connection between dolphins, seahorses, and Melqart is also seen in the coinage of Solus (figs. 3.7.1 & 3.7.3).617 The use of both seahorses and dolphins on Hispano-Carthaginian coinage covers both these bases. The overall image more closely resembles the obverse of Byblos’ shekels, which always featured warships and most often placed a seahorse beneath them (fig. 3.10.5). The reverses of Arward’s tetrobols also feature a seahorse beneath the warship (fig. 3.10.6). The artistic style of the seahorses on Carthaginian issues is more reflective of Siculo-Punic coinage, e.g. wingless seahorses in the exergue of Panormus’ tetradrachms. Contemporary imagery of a seahorse on a tablet at Kerkouane is also wingless.618 The icons themselves rather than any particular style were what mattered, as well as its literal and semantic deracination from the Levant to Punic inhabitants in Iberia.619 Summing up, the first series of coinage elicits strong identifications with both the old colonial deity Melqart as well as numismatic imagery employed by Phoenician cities. How Melqart evokes local cult devoted to the deity will be explored below. Beyond reaching out to contemporary beliefs and practices, this coinage pointed geographically eastward and chronologically backward. Because the imagery was disseminated by all of the mints of Phoenician cities, the evocation of shared Levantine origins of Carthage and local Punic communities broadened those meanings to embrace an Iberia in transition. Even the choice of the Shekel standard, deviating from Carthage’s norm in Sicily, may reflect political significance, 616 For most recent discussion a reserved endorsement of this reading, see Elayi and Elayi 2009, 265–271. 617 Mora Serrano 2013, 148–9. 618 Jenkins 1971, 47 nos. 27–34; Elayi and Elayi 2009, 264; Mora Serrano 2013, 149; cf. the image on the Melqart coin of Solus. The extent to which this reflects contemporary Carthaginian conceptions of how seahorses should look and merely the Sicilian influence of the artisans i s hard to know. 619 Imagery would be familiar to Carthaginians via trade with Tyre: Livy 33.48.3, 34.61.14, Huss 1985, 487. 150 reinforcing the Phoenician resonance of the coinage. 620 Carthage carefully maintained ties with its own mother city and it may have been expected that Punic communities in Iberia did the same, lending ideological potency to those diasporic ties. Signaling those ties helped Carthaginians allay the possible anxieties of local Punic allies, reassuring them that the burgeoning empire would not compromise their civic autonomy. Their claim to legitimacy lies in the attempt to situate Carthage and Melqart within the shared cultural milieu of an imagined “Phoenicity.” Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage: Elephant Series The second issue utilizes more evident Hellenizing imagery and overall invokes a more martial tone. The obverse features Melqart-Herakles wearing a laurel wreath and bearing a club behind his shoulder; the figure has a beard on the double shekels but is beardless on the triple, one-and-a-half, and quarter shekels. The reverse iconography displays an elephant which includes a rider on the double shekel, but is without a rider for the other denom inations, correlating with the presence or absence of the beard (fig. 3.11.1-2). These coins circulated more widely than the previous issue in southern Iberia and were probably minted in the southeast, either late in Hamilcar’s generalship or at the beginning of Hasdrubal’s (fig. 3.12).621 The bearded image resembles the RSMLQRT coin from Sicily, though the inclusion of the club marks syncretism between Melqart and Herakles more clearly. The choice to employ two different versions of Melqart is not particularly unusual, as the coinage of the Libyan rebels and Punic Seks demonstrate. 620 Tyre reverted from tetradrachms to its older shekel standard when it resumed minting after freeing itself from Seleucid rule through the murder of Demetrius II in 126, Nitschke 2013, 269–70. 621 Villaronga 1973, 121. Volk has argued for a later dating for these coins based on their ware, positing that they were minted by Hannibal instead. While provocative and not problematic for my argument either way, Volk’s sample size is only a few coins and because none of the coins appear to circulate in the area of Saguntum or the Ebro, Villaronga’s earlier dating remains more persuasive. 151 The Hellenic imagery is more than stylistic; it reflects a desire to capitalize on the attributes of Melqart’s Greek counterpart and, just like the imitation of Alexander’s tetradrachms in Sicily, naturalize those attributes with Carthaginian power. Deployment with the elephant evokes the martial qualities associated with Greek Herakles, the warrior and conqueror. Hannibal’s use of Greek historians and tutors demonstrate his awareness of Greek myths and his capacity to manipulate them for ideological ends will be considered shortly. 622 Southeastern Iberia may have receptive to Hellenic myth too. Likely minted at Carthago Nova, finds include much of southeastern Iberia, where Greco-Iberic scripts were used. A Pseudo Aristotle also mentions a road called the Heraklean Way, which led from Carthago Nova toward Castulo and Turdetania. 623 Literary sources suggest that the Barcid family cultivated Melqart- Herakles as a multivalent emblem of power, functioning as a familial patron, a source of inspiration for the army, and a means of legitimating conquest, all of which encouraged ties to local worshippers.624 Hannibal and the other Barcids recognized the deity as a patron and may have claimed a special relationship with the god. 625 Hannibal’s own favor by the deity seems to have been publicized by the Greek historians in his retinue. Silenus disseminated a tradition about the deity sanctioning Hannibal’s undertaking against Rome. It is less certain that Hannibal went so far as to explicitly claim rivalry with Herakles and his deeds, particularly crossing of the Alps. 626 The passage of Livy that supports this is highly polemical. 627 622 Rawlings 2005, 160. 623 Pseudo Aristotle de Mir. Ausc. 85; assuming its correlation with the later Via Heraklea. 624 Miles 2011a, 222; Rawlings argues, “the concepts of Herakles as dynast, general, liberator and traveler were available for manipulation by the Barcids if they so chose,” Rawlings 2005, 170. 625 Bonnet 1988, 181; Rawlings 2005; López Castro 1998; Chaves Tristán 2009, 324. 626 Glory: Barcelo 2010, 100; rivalry: López Castro 1998, 96; Miles 2011a, 248–9; Rawlings 2005, 156. 627 Livy 21.41.7. Livy’ Scipio claims that Hannibal claims to be “a rival of the journeys of Hercules,” (aemulus itinerum Herculis); Scipio is the first of Livy’s brash commanders so elements of his 152 It is well established that Hannibal used Herakles’ martial attributes to promote martial values among the soldiers and inspire cohesion within the ranks. 628 The god functioned as a symbol of victory and conquest, ideals to which the soldiers were presumably receptive. Hellenistic rulers utilized Herakles on their own coinage for this end. The elephant icon reinforces the military power of Carthage and likewise evokes iconographic parallels in the coinage of Hellenistic leaders. Hellenistic soldiers developed a core spirit around the mystique of leaders with divine favor so close associations that Barcid leaders drew with Melqart-Herakles also helped unite their soldiers around them. 629 In these ways the deity helped unify the ethnically disparate ranks of the Carthaginian armies and inspire victory. The fragmentary pro-Carthaginian literary sources suggest an active policy of promoting association with Melqart-Herakles to legitimate campaigns in Iberia and Italy. Miles convincingly argues that Silenus used divine interactions such as dreams to present Hannibal as, “a savior of the old West, with its long history of cultural interaction between its Greek Punic and indigenous populations.”630 A fragment of Silenus recounts Hannibal having a dream about a council of the gods appointing a divine guide for his march to Italy. 631 By propagating such stories, Hannibal’s literary entourage may well have posed a real ideological threat to Roman territorial claims. Rawlings argues that the destructive serpent in Hannibal’s dream may be the (unsuccessful) speech to inspire his soldiers against Hannibal’s should not be taken at face value. Silius Italicus’ offers a more extensive exploration of a rivalry between Hannibal and Hercules, though it is difficult to know whether the scenes are based on earlier tradition or are the poet’s own invention Silius Pun. 2.233-63, 475 f. 628 Miles 2011b, 261–7. 629 Miles 2011a, 251; Rawlings 2005, 172. 630 Miles 2011a, 246. F Gr Hist 175, F 8 = Cic. Div. 1.49; Livy 21.22, Silius Pun. 3.163-213, Dio 13.56.9. 631 Once they began marching Hannibal, against the advice of this guide, looks back to see a monstrous serpent destroying trees and buildings in its wake, which the deity claims symbolizes the destruction of Italy. Despite Roman adaptation that places Hannibal in an impious light, the story originated from a more positive version in Silenus, which served to offer divine sanction to Hannibal’s c ampaign. That the Punic version of the story once had a positive slant is reflected by Valerius Maximus’ reception of it as an ill omen for Rome: Val Max 1.7, ext. 1; Rawlings 2005, 157–61. Cf. Polyb. 3.47-8 for his critique of traditions about divine guides; for the divine guide’s identity as Herakles, see: Briquel 2004. 153 hydra, representing Rome’s destruction of its allies’ terri tory.632 Pyrrhus’ adviser Cineas is purported to have likened Rome to a hydra after witnessing Rome’s capacity to recover from defeats in even greater numbers. 633 Dionysius of Halicarnassus presents a soteriological tradition of Herakles liberating cities from tyrants across the world, including Italian Cacus. 634 Herakles’ soteriological traditions could be readily used against Rome but so too could traditions concerning the hero’s adventures in Iberia. Herakles’ adventures in Iberia were also recast in a soteriological vein. Herakles’ labor to steal the cattle of Geryon was already known to Hesiod around the seventh century, but both Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Diodorus Siculus preserve traditions in which the myth had been transformed into a more historical account of Herakles leading an international army. 635 While traditional myths have Geryon as the three headed son of Chrysaor, in Diodorus’ version Chrysaor is the king of Iberia and father of three warlike sons. After Herakles defeats each prince in battle, he claims the cattle but gives some of them to a native king for his piety and justice, who in turn sacrifices the fairest bull to Herakles, for which reason cattle remained sacred and connected with Herakles in Iberia. Upon departure, Herakles turns Iberia over to the noblest of men in the country. Diodorus’ etiology suggests Herakles enjoyed popularity among local Iberians, which explains the prominence on local coinage. Carthaginians were familiar with this tale and expected local rulers to be receptive to its implications. In the same passage Diodorus recounts how Herakles stopped in Libya on the way to Iberia to found cities and punish arrogant rulers. During that journey Herakles founds a city 632 Miles 2011a, 254. 633 Plut. Pyrrh. 8.2. Hannibal was familiar with Pyrrhus’ career: Livy 35.14, App. Syr. 10, Plut. Flam. 21.3. 634 Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.41-2; see also Bickerman 1952a, 70; Rawlings 2005, 169–70. 635 Cattle of Geryon: Hes. Theog. 287-94, 979-83, Hdt. 4.8, Plat. Gorg. 484b, Paus. 3.18.13, 4.36.4; historicizing the Geryon myth: Diod. Sic. 4.17-18, Dion Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.41, Diod. Sic. 4.17-19.1, Bickerman 1952a, 70. 154 called Hecatompylon, which the Carthaginians later captured thanks to “good generals” (στρατηγοῖς ἀγαθοῖς).636 In another part of his work Diodorus provides a more detailed account of Hecatompylon’s capture by Hanno, Hamilcar’s political rival; Polybius also preserves Hanno’s success against Hecatompylon during the First Punic War. 637 It is plausible that Carthaginians may have been aware of Greek traditions about Herakles’ deeds in Iberia and Libya, given their interaction with Herakles in Sicily. Yet it is more than coincidence that the only traditions abo ut this city are its link to Herakles and subsequent capture by Carthage. Diodorus’ story about Herakles and Hecatompylon may stem from a Carthaginian source. In the passage where Diodorus names Hanno as the general that captured the city, he notes Hanno’s intentions are to secure supplies for his soldiers. Diodorus highlights Hanno’s “humane treatment” (ἀνθρωπίνως) of the captured city and restraint from plundering it, noting Hanno’s preference for “benefaction to punishment” (τὴν εὐεργεσίαν τῆς τιμωρίας).638 The citizens are so pleased with Hanno that they freely supply his army. This version of Hanno’s dealings with subject populations could not be more different from Polybius’ characterization of Hanno. Immediately before Polybius mentions Hanno’s capture of Hecatompylon, he explains how the severity of Carthaginian exactions from Libyan subjects directly caused the Libyan Revolt. Polybius singles out Hanno as an example of such harsh generals, who did not treat the people “kindly and humanely” (οὐ τοὺς πρᾴως καὶ φιλανθρώπως).639 Diodorus’ information on Hecatompylon appears to derive from pro-Carthaginian sources. Quinn persuasively argues for a Carthaginian origin to Sallust’s version of a myth about the Altars of Philaeni, in which the 636 Diod. Sic. 4.18.1. 637 Polyb. 1.73.1, Diod. Sic. 24.10.2 638 Diod. Sic. 24.10.2. 639 Polyb. 1.72.3-4. Note too that Polybius says the taxation of 50% on crops was exacted without exception. 155 Carthaginian heroes are positively cast against deceitful Greeks. 640 Diodorus’ work utilizes pro- Carthaginian sources and at times betrays pro-Carthaginian sentiments.641 The Carthaginians might have evoked a Herakles charter myth to justify the capture of Hecatompylon. Malkin has utilized White’s middle ground to explore similar instances of Greek use of Herakles charter myths in Sicily to legitimate colonial endeavors in the fifth century, including at Eryx, which Herakles had won during his travel with Geryon’s cattle. White understands the “middle ground” as both a specific place in the Great Lakes region of North America (1650-1815) and a process through which colonial and indigenous actors adjust their own actions in accordance to the perceived cultural premises of their partners, often resulting in “creative misunderstandings.”642 A Greek adventurer, Pentathlos, attempted to manipulate a local foundation myth by claiming Herakles had left Eryx in native hands until one of Herakles’ ancestors claimed it. 643 Melqart’s association with Carthage provided the Carthaginians with grounds to make similar charter claims in Libya. Such claims could counter criticism of Carthage’s Libyan sovereignty by emphasizing traditions about Herakles’ original civilizing adventures in Libya. Perhaps Diodorus reflects an interpretatio graeca of what was originally a Melqart charter myth. Libyan use of Herakles-Melqart for coins corroborates the local significance of the deity. Traditions about Herakles’ role deposing tyrants in Iberia would have likewise been appealing to Hamilcar, who was himself conquering local communities and deposing their rulers. In this way, the Hispano-Carthaginian coinage may reflect the expectation that reference to 640 Quinn’s evidence and case are admittedly stronger, Quinn 2014. 641 Sal. BJ 17.7, Diod. Sic. 23.11, 24.11; for other instances of Pro-Carthaginian stances see: Sacks 1990, 128, n. 41. Diodorus’ fragmentary account of the First Punic War twice references the pro-Carthaginian historian Philinus of Agrigentum. Mineo has also noted Diodorus’ habit of diminishing Roman victories in the First Punic War and exaggerating defeats Mineo 2011, 119. 642 White 2011, vii; Malkin 2011, 45–48. 643 Malkin 2011, 120–3. 156 these myths would strike a chord with local communities. Herakles had been generous to local rulers after unseating the bad ones and the Barcids found allies as well as subjects. In terms of subject kings, it was important to maintain the good will of the strong men put in charge (see chapter four). Carthaginian familiarity with these myths is probable but the extent of local familiarity with these myths and the successful reception of this message is more difficult to assess. Nevertheless, charter myths of this sort were expected to be taken seriously. 644 Firm evidence does exist for Barcid interactions with cult on the ground at Gadir. In a scene directly before Hannibal’s divine dream, Livy records that Hannibal sacrifices at the temple of Melqart at Gadir before setting out on his march to Italy. According to Livy: “Hannibal fulfilled his vows to Hercules and binds himself to new vows, if his subsequent affairs should prosper”. 645 The vows being repaid may relate to the attack on Saguntum, while the new ones certainly pertain to the march to Italy. This story accords well with the tradition preserved by Avienus about Phoenicians honoring Gadir’s Melqart after successful undertakings.646 On one level this should merely be read as a pious, public act of a Carthaginian general. But it meant more than that. This tradition was also almost certainly present in the works of Silenus, who is known to have written about Gadir’s Heracleium. 647 The act fits into the larger context of promoting Barcid connections with Melqart-Herakles. Miles suggests that the event represents a purposeful step in a carefully choreographed journey. 648 Hannibal’s patronage honored the community of Gadir as well. The act recognizes and reinforces the prestige of its famous temple, a tactic that Roman statesmen and eventually 644 Malkin 2011, 123–4. 645 Livy 20.21.9, (Herculi vota exsoluit novisque se obligat votis, si cetera prospera evenissent); cf. Silius Pun. 3.14-16. 646 Avienus Ora Maritima 358. 647 Strabo 3.5.7, Pliny NH 4.36; Miles 2011a, 252. 648 Miles 2011a, 252. 157 emperors would likewise employ through benefactions to Hercules-Gaditanus as seen with Hadrian’s coin (fig. 3.2), to the mutual benefit of local and imperial actors. 649 The act also reaffirms the alliance between Gadir and Carthage. It is through Gadir’s institution that Hannibal thanks the god for services rendered and builds upon that solemn relationship with a further vow. Gadir’s temple becomes the channel through which the fate of the empire is divinely mediated. This serves to reiterate the mutual trust between Carthage and Gadir, while amounting to significant prestige for Gadir. 650 The act also reiterates the links that Melqart-Herakles fostered between Carthage and numerous actors in Iberia beyond the community of Gadir, evoking Carthage’s bond to the larger diasporic community of Phoenician origin as well as to the wider community devoted to Melqart-Herakles in Iberia. Carthaginian officials may have frequently patronized local cults to Melqart-Herakles or other comprehensible deities, such as Tanit, in dealings with local communities.651 Comparable situations are better attested for Roman interaction with Greek civic cults, such as Athenian Eleusis.652 Carthaginian settlers would naturally have reinforced such interactions in establishing cults to Punic deities in new settlements, including a possible sanctuary to Gadir’s Melqart at Carthago Nova. An inscription from Carthago Nova hints at cult for Gadir’s Melqart within a Carthaginian foundation. The lost inscription was discovered within a wall and copied in the late eighteenth- century.653 The text reads: 649 López Castro 1998. 650 Symbolically, Hannibal’s great undertaking against Italy begins in the pla ce where Hamilcar’s conquest of Iberia began too. 651 For the strong likelihood of other Barcid generals at least visiting Gadir’s temple: Marín Ceballos and Jiménez Flores 2004, 231. 652 Clinton 1989. 653 CIL II 3409, for publication history see: Abascal Palazón and Ramallo Asensio 1997, 160–1 no. 35. 158 [H]ercule[i] To Hercules Gadita[no] Gaditanus, L(ucius) Avi(us) L(uci) l(ibertus) Anti[pho] Lucius Avius Antipho, freedman of Lucius, et A(ulus) Avi(us) Ecl[ectus] and Aulus Avius Eclectus v(otum) s(olvit) l(ibentes) m(erito) gladly fulfilled a vow deservedly While the inscription may date to the first century BCE, it could reflect the survival of a previous cult to the deity that was established during the Barcid era. 654 The persistence of Punic cults into the city’s Roman period has been suggested for other cult spaces in the city. 655 Strabo also records that the island of Escombreras, near the mouth of modern Cartagena’s harbor, was sacred to Herakles. 656 Given Hannibal’s interactions with the temple at Gadir, it is possible that the inscription reflects a cult to the deity that was established in Barcid times, reinforcing ties with Gadir. Such cult would bring prestige to the new colony by associating it with an ancient colonial intuition. As a point of comparison, an inscription at Carthage honors the Astarte of Eryx, corresponding to several inscriptions to “the Astarte of Eryx” at Eryx itself.657 Eryx provides a good example of how the cult of an allied city, this case one of Elymaean origin but with strong Punic influence, could connect Carthaginians to that city. The two sets of coinage reflect a multivalent ideological agenda. The iconography of series II used Melqart and the imagery of Phoenician coinage to situate Carthage with respect to the wider ethnic origins shared with Punic inhabitants of Iberia. The more Hellenic profile of Melqart-Herakles signals the martial qualities of the Greek hero to configure the deity as patron of the Barcid family and an inspiring symbol for Carthaginian soldiers. Myths about Herakles’ adventures unseating tyrants in Iberia could also be signaled as charter myths to legitimate 654 Noguera Celdrán 2013, 154; Abascal Palazón and Ramallo Asensio 1997, 160; the editors’ dating seems highly speculative though the date itself is not very significant for the argument here. 655 Ramallo Asensio in Abad Casal, Keay, and Ramallo Asensio 2006, 93–4; Ramallo Asensio and Ruiz Valderas 2009, 539. 656 Strabo 3.4.6. 657 Pilkington 2013, 285–6; Thuc 6.2.3. 159 Carthaginian conquests. Above all, these coins served to evoke local cult to Melqart-Herakles as points of interaction between Carthaginians and locals, mirroring Hannibal’s ceremonious actions on the eve of the Second Punic War. PART 5. LOCAL REACTIONS Gadir With the coming of the Barcids, Gadir began to mint a small series of silver coinage as well as introduce civic legends and subtle iconographic changes. Through these choices the minting authorities primarily reemphasized the community’s political autonomy, prosperity, and territorial integrity in the face of the Carthaginian presence, while also more subtly identifying itself with the prestige of its imperial ally. Gadir’s earliest coins are anepigraphic bronzes in three denominations based on contemporary Siculo-Punic weight standards of 8 to 9 gram singles. 658 The largest denomination features the image of Melqart-Herakles wearing the lion skin on the obverse, perhaps inspired by coinage of Alexander the Great through Sicilian intermediation, with tuna fish on the reverse; a contemporary bronze of Solus’ offers a close iconographic parallel (figs. 3.13.1-2).659 Smaller denominations feature a solar deity on the obverse. 660 Depictions of Melqart-Herakles with lion skins remained Gadir’s primary image into the Augustan period. These coins circulated locally and were probably minted for small scale transactions related to the salt-fish industry, perhaps 658 Alfaro Asins 1988, 137–9; Alfaro Asins 1997, 66–7. I follow Alfaro Asins corpus unl ess otherwise noted. In addition to hoards, overstrikes of later series corroborates their dating as the first series Alfaro Asins 1988, 63–4. 659 Chaves Tristán 2009, 326; Mora Serrano 2003, 413–4. 660 The smaller denominations (A I.2 & 1.3) featured a solar deity on the obverse or dolphins, though all three denominations always feature two tunas on the reverse. 160 facilitated by the temple of Melqart. 661 The coins signal Gadir’s civic autonomy, a privilege it continued to enjoy during the Barcid presence. These were the only coins produced in southern Iberia before the arrival of the Barcids. During the Barcid era, Gadir minted new issues with Phoenician legends, including several denominations in silver.662 The silver coins appear in a variety of small denominations, ranging from 4.63 grams to units as small as .2 grams, compatible to the drachma standard employed by Emporion and Ebusus. While not equivalent to the weight system of Hispano - Carthaginian coins, the weights have been suggested to correlate to 2/3 of the Hispano- Carthaginian shekels. 663 Until recently the accepted view has been that the coinage was minted to assist Carthage with military expenses.664 The argument against this view appears in my previous chapter, arguing instead that the divergence from Hispano-Carthaginian weight standards and small units do not make sense for military expenditures, but instead reflect the desire to facilitate exchange, possibly with Emporion and Ibiza (see chapter two).665 Finds still cluster in the immediate region of Gadir, though some finds also appear on Ibiza and near Emporion.666 661 Alfaro Asins 1997, 67; Sáez Romero 2009, 118–20; Arévalo González and Moreno Pulido 2011, 341; for their use as votives in fish factories see: Arévalo González 2004. 662 The silver is Alfaro Asins Series II; the two series of bronzes issued during Barcid times are series III and IV. 663 In general see: Alfaro Asins 1988, 74–5; for compatibility with Hispano-Carthaginian shekels see: Alexandropoulos 1987. The logic behind the weight standards is clearly complex; though its significance remains uncertain, its distinction from Carthaginian weight standards and impracticality for military purposes is what matters here. 664 Villaronga 1986; Alfaro Asins 1988, 126; López Castro 1995, 90–1. 665 Villaronga, the original proponent of the miltiary coinage idea, has recently changed joined other scholars in favor of exchange, Villaronga and Benages 2011, 103; Mora Serrano 2003, 416; Chaves Tristán 2009, 330–1. Consider also how Emporion’s early coinage geared toward Carthaginian models in order to facilitate exchange with Punic commercial partners, Mora Serrano 2003, 413. 666 Arévalo González and Moreno Pulido 2011, 345–7. 161 The silver and bronze coins now introduce Phoenician legends, (MHLM/ʻGDR) “minting of Gadir” and (MP’L/ʻGDR) “work of Gadir.”667 The iconography also undergoes interesting changes. All divisions of the silver coins feature the head of Melqart wearing a lion skin and tunas on the reverse, now with clubs on the obverses of singles. 668 The club remains a standard feature of Gadir’s coinage into the Roman period. 669 Another significant iconographic change occurs in the bronzes, which now feature Melqart facing the viewer on the halves and quarters (fig. 3.13.4). The scripts, iconography, and even metrology all served to reiterate the community’s self-image and interests as well as distinguish Gadir from the burgeoning presence of Carthage. The introduction of the civic script is the most obvious element of this agenda. The legends now emphasize the name of the community and its ability to issue coinage. 670 This reflects an anxiety with regard to the community’s political autonomy and territorial integrity. Ancient communities associated the capacity to mint civic coinage with political autonomy.671 Gadir’s minting parallels the position of Phoenician cities in Sicily such as Solus and Panormus, which continued minting their own coinage after Carthage arrived on the island, in contrast to cities under more direct control in North Africa, such as Utica or Numidian cities. 672 The coins can also be viewed as part of an ethnic dialogue. Gadir was no longer the only Punic city in the south to be minting. At the risk of getting lost in the “noise” of Carthaginian coinage, the Phoenician legend rearticulates Gadir’s civic identity as a distinctive “Punicity.” 673 The weight standard 667 For translations and other possibilities see Alfaro Asins 1988, 49–55. 668 A II.A.1 & II.B.1. 669 Alfaro Asins’ Series V 670 Chaves Tristán 2009, 335. 671 Howgego 1995, 39–43. Ebusus also emits silver coinage but does not employ civic legends; this may be related to the relative lack of direct Carthaginian intrusion on the island. 672 Mora Serrano 2003, 413; it is only after the Second Punic that Numidian royal coinage appears. 673 Sensu Bondì 2014. Compare Italian merchants being mistaken for Romans when abroad in Greece. 162 further enhanced its distinctiveness. Overall the Carthaginian presence caused a crisis of sorts, spurring Gadir to invent a more assertive civic identity, which the iconography further enhances. The reiteration of previous iconographic elements reveals a studied di sregard of Carthaginian types. 674 Melqart-Herakles with lion skin continues to be the most common obverse image, and the only one for silver coins. The solar deity remained on the bronze quarters, maintaining Gadir’s iconographic distinctiveness.675 An interesting innovation is the creation of forward facing Melqart on the bronze halves. While this also may have been meant to set Gadir apart from Carthage, it could also reflect a reaction to the coinage of Seks, which began imitating Gadir’s Melqarts (below). The inclusion of a club likely alludes to the Hispano- Carthaginian series III (fig. 3.13.5), some of which were minted at Gadir for Carthage. 676 The club has been read as a possible concession to Carthage, but this misses what Gadir had to gain by identifying with Carthaginian coinage, even in this subdued way. 677 The silvers were relatively small issues, totaling 114 examples in Alfaro Asins’ corpus and 3.48% of the total studied. They may have been more symbolic than practical, intended to display Gadir’s wealth. A nod to Gadir’s political ties to Carthage associates Gadir with Carthage’s successful conquests, reinforcing the prestige of the silvers and of Gadir itself. Though the otherwise intentional rejection of Barcid iconographies sets Gadir apart from a Carthaginian “other,” Carthage also avoids using Gadir’s imagery. 674 Chaves Tristán 2009, 327–8. 675 Chaves Tristán 2009, 338. 676 Sejas del Piñal 1993. 677 Mora Serrano 2003, 417. Chaves Tristán is less convincing in her argument that the silver coinage was minted as an act of rebellion from Carthage due to its difficulties in the Fir st Punic War and Mercenary War, Chaves Tristán 2009, 324 ff.; even if the author’s novel and earlier dating is accepted, the restricted circulation of the Libyan Revolt coinage within Africa, Carradice and La Niece 1988, 41, makes it doubtful that Gadir actively associated itself with those coins. 163 Despite Carthaginian use of the lion skin model in early third-century Sicily, the image may have been intentionally avoided in Iberia (fig. 3.7.6).678 Given that Carthaginian coinage used Melqart to play on common ethnic origins, this appears surprising. The lion skin was not employed on coinage by any Phoenician cities anyway (though diademed males were), so it would not have contributed to the ethnic message of the warship coinage in any case. Yet the imagery should have been intentionally avoided for two reasons, which are not mutually exclusive. First, the lion skin type could draw problematic associations with Alexander the Great. Alexander’s reputation for ruthlessness and conquest could have sent an ambivalent message to local communities, dampening the chances for peaceful negotiations. Especially harmful could be the memory of Alexander’s destruction of Tyre, not to mention Carthage’s failure to aid Tyre from that assault. 679 The other reason to eschew the lion skin iconography would be to avoid appropriating Gadir’s iconography. Direct imitation of Gadir’s iconography could have been seen as a challenge; much as Carthage’s early imitation of Syracuse’s prancing horse type tetradrachms has been viewed. 680 The difficult but essential question becomes: when does imitation amount to flattery and when does it constitute a threat? Hannibal’s visit and vows to Herakles-Melqart at Gadir speaks of sensitivity and respect toward Gadir’s cult institutions, which was part of the intention.681 Visonà demonstrates a similar creativity and sensitivity to local values in the Carthaginian coinage employed during the Second Punic War in southern Italy in order to appeal to local audiences. 682 With Gadir as the only community minting coinage in the south, 678 Images of Melqart-Herakles in lion skins also appear on funerary razors at contemporary Carthage. 679 According to Curtius Rufus (4.2.11) Carthage promised Tyre military aid, but it never came. 680 Frey-Kupper 2014, 97. 681 Carthage had likewise demonstrated sensitivity and respect for local elements of Punic communities in Sicily and Sardinia Bondì 2014, 68. 682 Visonà 2009. 164 alternative iconographies avoided the ambiguous issue of appropriation while utilizing Melqart- Herakles in new ways. In this way, Hannibal’s patronage of the temple serves to honor its sanctity and formalize recognition of the territorial claims embedded within Gadir’s cultic infrastructure, which Gadir’s own coinage served to reiterate. Seks At this time Seks (Almuñécar), an old Phoenician colony, began minting bronze coinage which combines elements in the coins of both Carthage and Gadir. 683 The community was founded around the eighth century and was one of the Punic communities which Livy records resisting the Romans in the wake of the Second Punic War. 684 Materials from Seks suggest signs of interaction with Carthage from an early period, with pained ostrich eggs appearing in its necropolis from the early Punic period.685 Seks mints bronze coins utilizing two distinct obverse iconographies but both carry the name of the community in Phoenician script on the reverse (SKS).686 One type appears in doubles and halves based on an 8/9 gram weight standard and features Melqart-Herakles facing to the right with a club over the shoulder; the reverse features two fish with the civic inscription between them (fig. 3.13.6). The other type is a quarter with an obverse featuring Melqart covered in a lion skin facing right and a reverse featuring a club and the inscri ption (MP’L/SKS) “work of Seks.” In the following century Seks commonly minted bronzes of Melqart with lion 683 Overviews: Alfaro Asins 1997, 83–4, 97–9 and Pellicer Catalán in Bierling and Gitin 2002, 49–77. 684 Livy 33.21. 685 Pellicer Catalán in Bierling and Gitin 2002, 59. 686 Villaronga and Herrero 1994, 103–4. 165 skins and clubs with tunas on the reverse, but the second-century coins are distinguished by the use of Neo-Punic script (fig. 3.13.9). The coins with uncovered head and club on the obverse resemble the Hispano- Carthaginian coins bearing beardless Melqart-Herakles with clubs, though the wreath of the Carthaginian issues is notably absent and the deity faces the opposite direction (figs. 3.13.5-6). The reverse bears no resemblance to the Hispano-Carthaginian issues at all but instead imitates the double fish iconography of Gadir’s earliest series (fig. 3.13.1). During this time Gadir also began minting a single fish on most of its issues, though continued issuing types with double fishes (fig. 3.13.8). Seks use of the fish iconography clearly evokes its maritime resources, for which Strabo records it was famous. 687 The coinage also includes a legend with the name of the community; the coins with deity in lion skins use the same formula as Gadir, (MPL’ SKS), “work of Seks,” emphasizing the community’s authority to mint. 688 With the expulsion of Carthaginian power after the Second Punic War, the deity usually appears with lion skins. The two different iconographies resemble the coins of both Gadir and Carthage. 689 Geographically, Seks’ coastal location rested approximately halfway between Gadir and Carthago Nova. Seks may have benefited economically from the Carthaginian presence in the same way that Gadir did, sending salt-fish products toward redistribution systems in place at Carthago Nova as well as inland toward Castulo. 690 This double identification adduces the ancient prestige of Gadir and its temple while also identifying with the Carthaginian empire, grounded Seks somewhere between the old and the new, the local and colonial. The choice of two iconographies for Melqart-Herakles mirrors the coinage of Carthage as well as that of the 687 Strabo 3.4.2.3, named “the polis of the Exitani” (ἡ τῶν Ἐξιτανῶν πόλις); named Seks (Σέξ) by Ptolemy 2.4.7. 688 Alfaro Asins 1997, 83–4. 689 Mora Serrano 1993, 66–67, 72. 690 It. Ant. 405.3. 166 Libyan rebels. The use of Melqart-Herakles imagery strongly suggests local affinity for the deity, for which a local cult would not be improbable. In this sense it marks the successful reception of the Carthaginian initiative. If such a cult existed, it would have made a good point of contact for visiting Carthaginian officials and soldiers. Imitation of Carthaginian imagery may have been intended to confer prestige and power in a more direct way than with Gadir’s use of the club. These coins can also be considered as hybrid objects. They still have the tuna on the back but by evoking the Barcid imagery of Melqart-Herakles they reproduce a partial image of Carthage according to local logic, perhaps reflecting some ambiguity toward the Carthaginian presence as well.691 The use of Gadir’s imagery is intriguing for it hints at the dialogue emerging around the figure of Melqart-Herakles. The adoption of Gadir’s double fish iconography might also indicate competition with Gadir as a maritime producer. 692 Yet the iconography may also have been intended to reference Gadir’s temple, with which the community of Seks and other Phoenicians in the Circle of the Straits would have been well familiar, facilitating trade within the area. Seks’ imitation of Gadir’s lion skin imagery may also have influenced Gadir’s decision to differentiate and introduce the forward facing version of the deity. The extent to which Gadir may have been influenced by Seks is admittedly speculative, but it is more probable that Seks chose to use its attachment to Melqart-Herakles to identify itself with both Gadir and Carthage, and in doing so the prestige and commercial opportunities attached to both. 691 Alicia Jiménez 2011, 118; Bhabha 1984. An odd coin also deserves mention with respect to Carthage. It is a bronze single from the middle of the second century which features a bearded Melqart-Herakles wearing a lion skin with club and a warship on the reverse. Melqart-Herakles with lion skin never appears with a beard. This unique combination may have drawn inspiration from the Carthaginian Series III with beards (figs. 3.15.11-12) as well as the Carthaginian issues with warships. The only other community in the south to ever use warships was nearby Carteia and Arse/Saguntum during the second century, both of which had strong ties to the Barcid empire (see chapter two). The blend of imagery is complex and obscure, though it is tempti ng to wonder if continued association with Carthage, perhaps due to contemporary trade, was at play. 692 Mora Serrano 2003, 411. 167 Castulo Castulo stands out as a significant Carthaginian ally because it was the home of Hannibal’s Iberian wife.693 Castulo emits bronze coins in numerous divisions of doubles, halves, and quarters, all featuring diademed males on the obverse; the reverses of the doubles feature a sphinx while the smaller denominations depict bulls, all of which bear the name of the community (KASTILO) in the legend in Iberian script (fig. 3.14.1).694 The diademed male could very well have been inspired by Melqart on Carthaginian warship coins. 695 Whether this reflects genuine cult to Herakles is doubtful though intentional association with the community’s powerful Carthaginian ally is likely. That seems to be the purpose behind another coin the city emits around the same time, a bronze single, which features a female head on the obverse with spikes of grain in the hair, with strong resemblance to the images of Tanit on Hispano- Carthaginian bronzes (figs. 3.14.2-3).696 Castulo’s coinage reveals somewhat different strategies for association with Carthaginian power.697 The lack of any clear depictions of Herakles or Tanit in the subsequent coinage of Castulo also suggests that these coins mainly reflect political posturing rather than connections through local cult. Arse/Saguntum Arse/Saguntum698 was the first Iberian community to issue coinage before the Barcid era, starting in the later fourth century and framing its coinage with Hellenistic designs. 699 Arse appears to have altered its iconography upon its capture by Hannibal . The conflict between 693 Livy 24.41.7. 694 García-Bellido 1976; García-Bellido et al. 2002, 226–33. 695 García-Bellido has envisioned these as representations of a local leader. This may be so and does not harm my argument here. 696 Villaronga Series VII, attributed to the time of Hannibal. 697 Compare also the cases of Baria and Malaga, which also begin to mint coins at this time but do not appear to have made any reference to Carthaginian types in the deployment of their own coins. 698 I will use the term Arse, which is the name by which the community refers to itself during the Barcid era; the community eventually calls itself Saguntum in its coins with Latin script toward the end of the second century. 699 Ripollès Alegre 2012, 3. 168 Rome and Carthage that resulted in Hannibal’s assault upon the community requires no rehearsal here.700 The critical details of the narrative with regard to the Second Punic War are that the community was in stasis with regard to the Barcid empire and the pro-Roman party requested Roman involvement. With the arrival of a Roman embassy, members of the pro- Carthaginian side were murdered and a Roman embassy then approached Hannibal, shortly after which Hannibal openly defied Roman dictates and launched his attack on Arse in the spring of 219, with it falling 8 months later. A number of Arse’s coins appear in hoards related to the Second Punic War, some in apparent imitation of Hispano-Carthaginian coinage.701 During or just after the Second Punic War Arse minted silver drachms (3.3 grams) with obverse images of Herakles wearing a laurel wreath and holding a club behind the shoulder; the reverses portray bulls and the legend ARSKITAR in Iberian script (figs. 3.14.4-5).702 The style of the obverse imagery bears close resemblance to the elephant series of Hispano-Carthaginian coins (fig. 3.1). Local affinity for Herakles is reflected in the literary and material evidence. Silius Italicus reports that Herakles was the founder of the community, which may indicate a foundation myth that had developed by the third century. 703 A vase in the form of a man wearing an animal pelt was recovered from the site in the 1930s; it has been dated to the third 700 For bibliography on the origins of the Second Punic War see Rich in Cornell and Rankov 1996, 1 n. 1; for Saguntum in particular: (Hoyos 1998, 174–95). Literary sources: for Saguntum’s harassment of Carthaginian allies: Polyb. 3.28-30, Livy 21.6.1, Appian 10.36-8; Roman embassies to Hannibal concerning Saguntum: Polyb 3.15, Cicero Phil 5.27, Livy 21.6.8, 9.3, Appian Iberi. 11, Zonaras 8.21.7-8; later Roman sources imagining Saguntum protected by the Ebro River Treaty (against Polybius) Livy 21.2.7, 18 .19, Appian Iber. 7, 11, Florus Epit. 1.22.4, Zonaras 8.21.4, Silius Italicus 1.294-5. 701 I follow Ripollés Alegre and Llorens 2002, also followed in the recent monograph by Chaves Tristán and Pliego Vázquez 2015; cf. García-Bellido et al. 2002, 37–45. 702 Ripollés y Llorens 59-67. Imagery also often accompanied by various astrological and marine symbols. During the second century the obverse model continued to be used along with male heads with laurels or diadems but without clubs, which have been also identified as Herakles too by many, Ripollés Alegre and Llorens 2002, 92. 703 Silius Pun. 1.273-5, 368-70, Ripollés Alegre and Llorens 2002, 91–3; a foundation by colonists from the Greek island of Zacynthos is better attested: Strabo 3.4.6, Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.50.2-3, Livy 21.7.2, Pliny NH 16.216. 169 century and identified as a depiction of Herakles (fig. 3.15).704 Together this reflects the local popularity of the god to which the imagery of the Hispano-Carthaginian coinage appealed. Yet Arse’s appropriation of this imagery probably reflects resistance rather than congeniality. The chronology of these coins is crucial but difficult. Due to their occurrence in hoards related to the second Punic War, they may be placed at or after 212 when Rome freed Saguntum, up to the consulship of Cato in 195. I accept Ripollés’ chronology, which dates the coins broadly between 218 and 195. 705 A date of 212 or later is attractive due to the coins’ weight standard, which is heavier than earlier issues due to influence from Roman coinage. 706 Dating after its liberation from Carthage is also attractive because it seems unlikely that the Carthaginians would have permitted Arse to mint its own coinage, given the dramatic and violent circumstances under which it was incorporated into the empire. If Arse’s coins d o date to the Carthaginian occupation, then they may reflect a concessive attitude and an attempt to signal common ground with the Carthaginian occupiers, though hints of colonial ambivalence could also be present. Yet a post-Carthaginian dating is more likely. Under a post-liberation dating, the inhabitants of Arse appropriated the imagery of their former masters. The continued minting of the imagery into the second century suggests that Herakles became an important deity to the community and the tradition about his founding myth may have been developed at this time as a response against Carthage. Appropriation of the Carthaginian imagery reflects an interesting strategy of resistance, through which Arse reclaimed the local deity from Carthage and in the process, reorients Herakles’ significance to 704 Horn 2011, Vol 1 p. 319; Horn also notes that it is of Punic design. 705 Here I also follow Ripollés reading over that of García-Bellido for the chronology of the previous series, which feature helmeted figures; García-Bellido dates these to the time of the Barcid occupation, which might explain their resemblance to Hispano-Carthaginian Series X. Ripoll és’ strongest point against this dating is their relative absence from hoards related to the Second Punic War García-Bellido 1990, 68–74, 101–2; Ripollés Alegre and Llorens 2002, 277–9. 706 Ripollés in Ribera i Lacomba and Ripollès Alegre 2005, 32. 170 the community. A similar process may have been at work in the Iberi an community of Saetabi in Contestania, which minted silver coins with Herakles wearing the lion skin also probably afte r being freed by Rome (fig. 3.14.6).707 For communities that were (or became) strongly opposed to the Carthaginian presence, it is possible that resentment was aroused by the Carthaginian use of Herakles and through its appropriation freedom could be celebrated. At this point it is worth acknowledging the strategic limits of the Carthaginian use of Melqart-Herakles. If communities like Arse resisted strongly and were overcome with violence, it is doubtful how far ideological positioning toward local deities would matter, at least in the short term. The most pervasive issue of Barcid coinage eschewed divine and mythic iconography altogether. This coinage was originally deployed in the Ebro region and though this is peripheral to the imperial core in the south that is the focus of this work, the intentions behind it are worth considering. This final series of coins was minted throughout the course of the Second Punic War in Iberia; it features a male head on the obverse completely devoid of symbols, while the reverse displays a simple horse and palm (fig. 3.14.7).708 The reverse imagery resembles traditional reverse motifs of Carthaginian coinage and this probably reflects an intentional emphasis on the Carthaginian state due to the expected opposition with Rome. While the male image has some resemblance to the beardless issues of Melqart-Herakles, I argue that the coins were deployed with an intentional ambiguity for an unfamiliar and unpredictable audience. Carthaginian coinage had often utilized ambiguous images, maximizing the potential for local interpretations. At the start of the war with Rome battle was expected to take place in the Ebro region, a region hastily annexed into the empire and with no Punic allies. Herakles was not a particularly popular deity in nearby Emporion. In this region a more ambiguous male image 707 CNH 314-15, García-Bellido et al. 2002, vol. 2 330–1. 708 Again, attempts to identify the obverse images as portraits of Barcid generals are purely speculative. 171 could be perceived by local communities to portray a Barcid general. If any aspect of the Barcid portraits argument is convincing, it is with regard to this series of coins. Still, I am not arguing that these images were meant to portray specific Barcid generals. Instead, I’m suggesting that the final issues of Carthaginian coinage were intentionally ambiguous such that if an Iberian soldier asked if the image depicted a Barcid general, a Carthaginian might answer, “sure.” This would have appealed to local patron-client patterns, which locals would have better understood than signaling a specific deity. 709 This would indeed mark a novel departure from previous numismatic strategies but can still be viewed fruitfully as a different attempt to appeal to local modes of belief to mitigate the difficulty of trying to control a vast but onl y partly pacified territory.710 Overall, local responses to Carthaginian coinage were varied. As communities began to experiment with this new mode of self-representation, some took part in the Carthaginian dialogue by adopting Carthage’s models to varying extents and to various ends, reflecting a range of responses, from self-serving endorsement to resistance, and in some instances perhaps a little of both. 709 Roddaz 1998. Hasdrubal’s acceptance of an acclamation by local troops may reflect a similar strategy, to be explored more in the following chapter. 710 García-Bellido 2013b, 183. 172 PART 6. CONCLUSIONS I have examined how the Carthaginians utilized Melqart-Herakles coinage in Iberia to connect with local communities to whom some form of the deity was significant. Though the iconography was novel compared to previous Carthaginian coinage, the overall strategy of appealing to local and regional elements parallels the use of coinage in Sicily. The two series of coins used the deity in different ways, effectively casting a wide ideological net. The first series was aimed primarily at communities which identified with Melqart and Phoenician colonial origins. Despite commonalities in language, pantheon, and material culture between Carthage and some local communities, including those that shared a common metropolis in Tyre, this dialogue also can be seen to betray deeper discomfort over points of difference. This is because Punic communities of Iberia had developed along their own distinct cultural trajectories since the colonial period. Carthaginian minters at first eschewed Tanit, the main deity of the Carthaginian coinage, in favor of the relatively less visible Melqart, because Melqart could be seen as a more effective link to the colonial past and was an important facet of Punic communities in Iberia. By connecting with these local communities and signaling ancient and shared origins from the Levant, the coinage attempts to legitimate Carthaginian leadership over an imagined community of Punic peoples in Iberia, a community which the coinage itself attempts to fashion. 711 Carthaginian minting authorities also capitalized on the martial elements of Greek Herakles. Carthaginian elites were certainly aware of Herakles myths, as demonstrated by the career of Hannibal and especially his use of Greek historians to propagate stories about Hannibal’s relationship with Melqart-Herakles. Carthaginian experience in Sicily suggest 711 Anderson 1991; I draw inspiration here especially from Anderson’s concept of the religious community. 173 familiarity with the use of Herakles’ charter myths and historiographical clues in Diodorus’ account of Herakles adventures in Iberia also hint that Carthaginians were familiar with traditions about Herakles’ soteriological dimensions. Less certain is the extent to which local communities actually bought into the manipulation of these myths about unseating bad rulers and rewarding just ones. The manipulation of such myth does not appear to have convinced the inhabitants of Arse/Saguntum. Yet, even if it is not possible to assess the success of this policy, the very attempt to manipulate myths tied to the local landscapes that Carthage sought to dominate is crucial. This resembles the sort of Middle Ground experience of creative misunderstanding at the hands of a colonial power with regard to local actors. 712 With all of these elements at play, Carthaginians were also patronizing local cults, as they probably had before the Barcid era too. The local communities that were willing and able to respond to Carthaginian coinage were hardly passive imitators. Each community appears to have utilized its coinage to situate itself with respect to Carthage and only some jockeyed for potential prestige through their coins, while others like Malaga made no obvious reference to Carthage in its coinage at all. These novel coinages also fashioned distinct images of the community. Though direct glimpses into this process are rare, later minting indicates that the deity was significant in many communities and so offered important points of contact between local and imperial actors. It should also be kept in mind that just because communities did not fashion a deity on their coinage does not indicate the absence of local cult. While Gadir was hyper focused on Melqart-Herakles, it also housed a temple to Astarte-Venus. 712 While I do believe White’s process of creative misunderstanding is at work here, the relations of power are too unbalanced to make proper use of his theories in this situation. I will explore the potential of the Middle Ground more fully in the next chapter. 174 I hope to have shown some dimensions of Carthaginian sensitivity toward local cults and their potential for fruitful interaction with local peoples. For an empire without interactions isn’t really an empire at all. By consciously identifying with and connect to local peoples through shared cult empire was facilitated and made possible. Melqart-Herakles provided an explicit totem to inspire armies, legitimate conquest, and connect with the local agents to ease the extraction of resources and promote a degree of unity, while still recognizing and respecting local idiosyncrasies. In the final chapter I examine empire as interaction on a deeper and less explicit level, considering how local cultural dispositions enabled the interactions between Carthaginian officials and local elites which determined the efficacy and extent of imperial power. 175 CHAPTER 4: COERCION AND LOCAL DISPOSITIONS For an empire to be successful, its authorities must have the ability to compel subject people to recognize imperial authority and contribute desired commodities such as rare metals, agricultural tribute, and manpower. While the economic impact demonstrated in chapter two would suggest that these imperial ambitions were largely successful, it is easy to overestimate the power of empires. Given the limited coercive potential of pre -modern states, persuasion and negotiation were essential. Unsurprisingly, Polybius tells us that Hamilcar, “made the Iberians obedient to Carthage, many by force of arms, many by persuasion.”713 The strategies went hand in hand, with the tacit threat of negotiations giving way to violence l ooming over most interactions. Yet recourse to violence was in the interest of neither party. Empires function at their best when locals are convinced to cooperate and invest in imperial success. Considering compulsion and persuasion as two interrelated means to the same end, in this chapter I consider how local communities’ cultural interaction with the Punic world broadened the potential for negotiation between locals and Carthaginians in the colonial situations engendered by the Barcid empire. The cultural milieu of the Carthaginians and the communities they sought to dominate in southern Iberia were far less different from each oth er than the essentialist ethnic labels used by Greco-Roman authors imply. Greco-Roman authors obscure cultural complexities when they label the indigenous people on the Segura River as “Contestani,” as if these native “Iberians” knew nothing of the Punic world. Material culture reflects a murkier reality. The material world and practices of the people who lived in that region reveals people consuming objects from the Punic world, enclaves of people with Punic cultural backgrounds, and even entire indigenous communities of possible Phoenician descent in 713 Polyb. 2.1.7: (πολλοὺς μὲν πολέμῳ, πολλοὺς δὲ πειθοῖ ποιήσας Ἰβήρων ὑπηκόους Καρχηδόνι). 176 the case of El Oral (San Fulgencio, Alicante).714 Carthaginian ways would have been quite familiar to some within this heterogeneous cultural milieu. Put more simply, when Hamilcar attempted to persuade locals, he had a lot more common ground to work with than the ethnic caricatures in the ancient sources would suggest. An anecdotal example is instructive. Toward the end of the war after Scipio’s decisive victory at Ilipa (206), the community of Astapa is said to have fiercely resisted the Roman invasion of Baetica, launching raids on Roman soldiers and local communities that had gone over to Rome. According to Livy, when the Romans attacked, the community resisted to the end, finally destroying their valuables and committing mass suicide. 715 Livy also provides a rare political detail: “Astapa had always stood by the Carthaginians.”716 If Livy’s remark about Astapa’s loyalty can be taken to reflect consistent cooperation with Barcid authorities, how did this relationship work? The material remains of Roman Ostippo, which Schulten first identified as Astapa and modern Estepa, suggest that part of the answer rests in the community’s particular affinity for Punic beliefs and institutions.717 Punic institutions may have survived in imperial Ostippo. 718 Pérez calls attention to Broughton’s identification of potential Punic practices living on in the town council of decemvirs.719 A statue of Hercules in the city may also indicate prior attachment to the deity, perhaps first introduced to the city in the form of Punic Melkart. Pérez also observes a series of reliefs less than half a kilometer form the settlement (in el Tajo Montero), one of which includes a female figure standing in front of palms and surrounded by a supporting structure of columns 714 Aranegui Gascó and Vi ves-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 248. 715 The ritual self-destruction resembles the story of Saguntum’s final moments, though what is of interest here is why this community resisted so strongly: Livy 21.14. 716 Livy 28.22.1: (Astapa urbs erta Carthaginiensium semper partis); cf. App. Hisp. 33, “the city had always remained steadily with the Carthaginians” (πόλις Καρχηδονίοις αἰεὶ διαμείνασα ὁμαλῶς). 717 Tovar 1974, 126–7. 718 Pérez 1981. 719 Broughton 1965, 130. 177 with doves as the acroterion. Pérez notes that the palms and doves are characteristics commonly associated with Tanit, as have other authors. 720 The archaeological and literary evidence clearly attest to the strong ties that locals in the Guadalquivir Valley had to the Punic world. In an oft-quoted passage about Turdetania, Strabo highlights the high degree of interaction between people of Phoenician origin and indigenous “Turdetani”: “For these people [Turdetani] became so exceedingly subject to the Phoenicians that the better number of the cities in Turdetania and of the neighboring places are inhabited by the Phoenicians at present.” 721 These remarks reflect the results of centuries of close contact and interaction between these communities. Given Livy’s explicit remark and these hints in the material evidence, inhabitants of Astapa may have actively interacted with Carthaginians and other Punic communities before them. Yet such direct political information from the literary sources, even if accepted as trustworthy, is rare. In most cases, material remains are the only means for discerning cultural interactions and possible political dispositions. Pérez’ treatment of that evidence is too simplistic. The toponymical uncertainties aside, the poor publication of these finds and dearth of supporting evidence leaves little room to assess the implications of Pérez’ observations. As it stands, Pérez’ treatment comes close to reproducing older and less theorized veins of scholarship, which merely hunt for signs of things Punic to locate Carthaginians, reducing local agents to passive afterthoughts. In this chapter I consider better documented contexts in greater detail with postcolonial theoretical tools concerned with consumption and power dynamics. Drawing from postcolonial theory, entanglement, and Bourdieu’s theories of practice, I analyze how imperial structures interfaced with local practices and dispositions, providing a 720 García y Bellido 1942a, 295; Pérez 1981, 97; Marín Ceballos 1987, 53 n. 10. 721 Str. 3.2.13: oὗτοι γὰρ Φοίνιξιν οὕτως ἐγένοντο σφόδρα ὑποχείριοι ὥστε τὰς πλείους τῶν ἐν τῇ Τουρδητανίᾳ πόλεων καὶ τῶν πλησίον τόπων ὑπ’ ἐκείνων νῦν οἰκεῖσθαι. 178 better idea of what local people actually did and how they may have regarded Carthaginian presences. Why does the local matter at all? It matters because empires are not just made of precious metals and soldiers, forts and cities. Empires are made of people. Local dispositions, actions, and reactions shaped the Barcid empire. The people who inhabited Iberia, who resisted Carthaginian armies or fought in them, who paid tribute or negotiated exemption or supplied Carthaginian armies at a premium, who bought slaves from Carthaginian campaigns or were enslaved to work in Carthaginian mining centers, these people were the Barcid empire. In order to answer how empire worked, a crucial component of that answer must account for how processes of persuasion and negotiation functioned. I begin with an exploration of Carthage’s prior dealings in Iberia and some scholarly attempts to define “Punic” Iberia. Next I consider evidence of the coercive strategies employed by Carthaginians and the limits of that kind of power. Then I turn to local contexts in the areas corresponding to ancient Contestania, Bastetania, and Turdetania, to examine local interactions with the Punic world and Punic practices in order to offer some insights into the potential for negotiation to bridge the gap. Contestania reveals the most evidence. Its coast is dotted with communities well-immersed in a Punic cultural milieu with whom indigenous communities with less signs of Punic affinities interacted with as well. In Bastetania evidence suggests Baria was a key locus of interaction that connected Carthaginians to local communities, some of which had borrowed aspects of Punic material culture and practices, while also affecting practices at Baria, though many of the more interior communities seem to have been more aloof from such activity. Finally Turdetania, for which much anecdotal evidence suggests significant interaction with Punic ways, offers the least evidence, due to issues of excavation and archaeological visibility. Studying these communities from the ground up reveals how artificial and misleading 179 the ethnic distinctions employed in the literary sources are and how they obscure more complex social realities of interaction, cohabitation and material entanglement, which enabled the success of Barcid imperial aims as much as any armies or hostages. For a review of the theoretical concepts employed in this chapter, see the introduction. PART 1: HISTORICAL CONTEXT OF INTERACTIONS This section begins with an overview of Phoenician colonization in Iberia and interactions between colonial and indigenous communities, following with a brief overview of previous attempts to identify the extent of “Punic” Iberia. It was not so much the actions of Carthaginians prior to the Barcid period but local Punic communities that set the social stage of the Barcid empire, offering indigenous individuals their primary points of contact with the Punic world. I then turn to Carthaginian presences and interests prior to the Barcid period, which was primarily commercial in nature, with special interests in obtaining metals as well as recruiting mercenaries. What did the Punic world of Iberia look like? A minimal definition would entail the settlements of Phoenician colonial origin that remained inhabited into our period, but cultural interaction with indigenous communities complicates the picture. 722 From the eighth century, Phoenicians founded settlements along the southern coasts, stretching from Huelva in the west (and even further north along the Atlantic coast) to La Fonteta on the estuary of the Segura 722 For entanglement, see discussion in introduction. 180 River.723 Evidence among these sites increasingly suggests indigenous cohabitation in Phoenician colonies from an early time. 724 Indigenous communities throughout the Guadalquivir and Segura Basins interacted with objects and people of Phoenician origin. In the Guadalquivir Valley interaction is understood to have contributed to significant social and political change among indigenous communities, for which it has been called the “Orientalizing” period. Local elites consumed objects obtained from Phoenicians to reinforce their prestige and perhaps their connections within the colonial network in which they were complicit. 725 Structures appear in local communities that resemble temples and sanctuaries of the eastern Mediterranean, in places such as Carmbolo, Mesa de Setafilla, Caura, Carmo, Monte Molin, and Castulo, and there are also signs of Phoenician enclaves within communities and perhaps intermarriage.726 In eastern Iberia interactions between indigenous communities and the Phoenician colony of La Fonteta have also been observed, where Phoenicians and indigenous may have lived side by side. 727 With the sixth century crisis, many of these sanctuaries were abandoned or destroyed, along with many settlements, and the deposition of foreign goods sharply decreased for centuries, rendering it difficult to assess the extent to which ideas and interaction persisted into the Punic period. 728 Turning to the Punic period of the fifth through third centuries, Ferrer Albelda offers an overview that emphasizes indicia of Punic ethnic identity while avoiding the trap of trying to identifying Punic ethnic identities per se. He understands ethnicity as a self-conscious identification of a group based in a specific place or origin; people use cultural elements to self- 723 Colonies reached even further north into modern Portugal, notably Santa Olaia. 724 Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 305. 725 González Wagner 2013, 339. 726 González Wagner 2011, 121–3; González Wagner 2005, 159–60; Torres Ortiz 2014, 271. 727 Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 306–7. 728 Ferrer Albelda 2007, 202–7; changes to funerary practices may reflect sumptuary restrictions, Torres Ortiz 2014, 278. 181 identify and indications of those identities include toponyms and onomastics of Phoenician origin and Punic as well as Neo-Punic script, cults for divinities, funerary traditions, and political organizations, which Ferrer draws from archaeological, linguistic, and literary evidence. 729 The resulting map reveals these indicia mostly along the southern coasts of Iberia (fig. 4.5).730 Overall the map provides a useful impression of Punic presences and places where people interacted with things Punic. In southeastern Iberia elements characteristic of funerary consumption in Punic Baria have been taken as indices of interaction with communities in the interior. These indexical features include indigenous use chamber tombs, chicken eggs, and seated goddess statues, with the intensity of their consumption decreasing further inland (fig. 4.6).731 The settlements of Basti and especially Tútugi seem to have engaged most strongly with Baria, though there appears to be less penetration in Bastetania, than in Turdetenia to the west or Contestania to the north east.732 In the region of the Segura River Phoenician settlement is less present and persistence into the Punic period is less clear, as the absence of Punic toponyms and epigraphy suggests. Yet in other ways some of the strongest signs of interaction appear in the coastal communities of this area, for example, through the consumption of incense burners in the shape of female heads in coastal sanctuaries. Hundreds of these objects were consumed in funerary contexts in Carthage and appear almost strictly in Punic communities of the Western Mediterranean, perhaps having originated in Punic Sicily (figs. 4.7 & 4.8).733 They have often been identified as 729 Ferrer Albelda 1998. 730 Significance of the so-called Libyphoenician mints is problematic: Alicia Jiménez 2014; Chaves Tristán 1998, 149–55. 731 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 154; Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2002. 732 Basti: Adroher Auroux 2008, 217; Adroher Auroux and Caballero Cobos 2008, 226. 733 Marín Ceballos and Horn 2007; Marín Ceballos and Jiménez Flores 2014 . 182 representations of Tanit, primarily due to an inscription with the goddess’ name appearing on one of these incense burners found in the cave shrine in Es Culleram in Ibiza; recently another one bearing a neo-Punic inscription identifying it with Tanit has been found in the region of Gadir. Yet this does not indicate that every user in Es Culleram would have understood the same identification in their votives and it remains difficult to assess if indigenous users in I beria ever would have seen the objects as Tanit or some local syncretism. 734 Ibiza seems to have played an important role in supplying Iberians with these objects and others.735 Broad strokes can only be so revealing and do not capture the significant variation in the intensities of interaction. How objects were actually used must be determined to provide meaningful answers about local agendas, interactions with the Punic world, and possible dispositions toward Carthage. Having broadly addressed “Punic” Iberia before the Barcids, it is time to consider Carthaginian presences prior to our period. Carthage’s presence in Iberia prior to the Barcids has already been addressed. 736 The consensus view is that Carthage did not have any direct territorial control in Iberia but rather a looser commercial hegemony exercised over trade partners though a system of treaties and agreements. Carthage had influence but little means for direct extraction of resources, which had to be obtained through trade. Still, Carthaginian traders worked through commercial networks in Iberia, which at times would have involved merchants and perhaps Carthaginian state agents directly dealing with individuals in Iberia. The Carthaginian fleet may also have patrolled the waters to keep allied settlements and trade routes free of pirates. While there are a few remarks in the literary sources about Carthage sending out “Libyphoenician” colonists, 734 Marín Ceballos 1987; for Es Culleram see: van Dommelen and Lopez-Bertran 2013; region of Gadir, López Rosendo and Niveau de Villedary 2014. 735 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 246; Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2009. 736 See introduction: Whittaker 1978; López Castro 1991; González Wagner 1994. 183 such colonists are difficult to detect archaeologically. Agents sent to recruit mercenaries would also have been an important point of contact, relying on links of patronage and friendship with locals to gather soldiers. Literary sources attest to Carthaginian trade in Iberia and some material evidence corroborates this. Polybius’ account of the second treaty between Rome and Carthage is the most important literary evidence for Carthage’s commercial hegemony over the region. 737 The Carthaginian state funded explorations beyond the Straits along the African coast and Atlantic coast of Europe in the sixth or fifth centuries, during which Hanno supposedly founded colonies along the African coast, though none have been found. 738 An important point of departure for these voyages would have been Gadir, with which trade is also mentioned by a Pseudo Aristotle.739 Strabo also notes that Carthaginians sunk ships that attempted to sail in the Straits, which might simply reflect Greco-Roman invective or the eradication of piracy for trade partners.740 Material evidence for trade with Baria and Gadir is attested, with some Carthaginian amphorae and a more significant amount of Attic wares appearing at Baria, likely redistributed through Carthage. 741 Pilkington argues forcefully for Carthage’s growing trade relations with Athens from the sixth century, through which Carthage exploited its geographic position as 737 Polyb. 3.24. 738 The periploi of Hanno and Himilco; the account of the former, apparently based on the original Carthaginian public document, has survived as a ninth century Greek manuscript: Oikonomidēs et al. 1977. 739 Pseud. Aristo. De Mirabilibus Auscultationibus 136. 740 Strabo 17.1.19; simple invective: Whittaker 1978, 61); eradicating pirates: (Ferrer Albelda and Pliego Vázquez 2013, 115–16. 741 López Castro et al. 2011, 64–68. 184 gateway to the Western Mediterranean. 742 Carthage would have likewise played an important part in the flow of Attic wares to Gadir and of Gadir’s fish products into the eastern Mediterranean. These activities could only be sustained through collaboration of friends and partners in these communities, linked by ties of friendship and patronage, and the larger network of commercial and political relations that the Carthaginian state sought to protect and control. It is often assumed that the Carthaginians sought rare metals from Spain but corroborating evidence is scarce. 743 A wreck off the coast of Cartagena, dated to the fifth or fourth century, included both tin ingots and elephant tusks with Punic writing on them. 744 Manfredi has also noted some isotopic analyses of Carthaginian coinage that points to Spanish mines, but the study is of limited scope. 745 Carthaginian trade for rare metals remains a plausible hypothesis but remains to be thoroughly demonstrated. Plentiful literary references note Carthage’s use of Iberian mercenaries for wars in Sicily, which a growing body of numismatic evidence seems to corroborate. 746 Several large finds of bronze coins are beginning to support the idea that the Carthaginians maintained some physical presence for recruiting mercenaries in Turdetania (figs. 4.9-11). Pliego and Ferrer argue that El Gandul may have been such a site, observing that over 85% of the 251 coins found in the vicinity 742 Pilkington 2013, 189–97; Docter 2010, 33; Pilkington argues that Carthage largely exported grain to Athens, coinciding with Carthage’s growing colonization of its African hinterland. Epigraphic evidence also attests Athenian gratitude to Carthage for aid when in Sicily, Pilkington 2013, 74. 743 Giardino 1992. 744 García 1985, this still doesn’t prove Carthaginian provenance; cf. the fourth-century wreck of El Sec off Majorca, is usually understood as a Punic vessel, though not necessarily a Carthaginian one, Arribas Palau 1987. 745 García-Bellido and Callegarin 2000, 16. 746 Blázquez Martínez and García-Gelabert Pérez 1987; Quesada Sanz 2009; Fabregat 2014; Literary sources for Iberian mercenaries in Sicily: Battle of Himera in 480: Hdt. 7.165; Battle of Selinunte in 409: Diod. 13.54.1-2, 44.5; Agrigentum in 406: Diod. 13.80.2; destruction of Gela and Camarina in 405: Diod. 13.110.5-6; war against Dionysius in 397-5: Diod. 14.54.5-6; battle of Krimisos in 341: Diod. 16.73.3; First Punic War: Polyb. 1.17.4, 67-7, Diod. 25.9.1. 185 date to the fourth century, while sporadic finds of Hispano-Carthaginian coins (five total) more likely reflect the Barcid (re)occupation of the site. 747 Two more large finds at nearby Cerro de San Pedro and Arenal II have both yielded nearly 1,000 bronze coins each datable to the fourth and early third centuries, to which several sporadic finds throughout Andalusia may be added. 748 It is fairly unlikely that all of these coins consist of residual finds. El Gandul rests about 25 km. to the south of the key Iberian settlement of Carmo, while Cerro de San Pedro and Arenal II are about the same distance to the west, which have led the authors to suggest that these coins might even reflect actual garrisons intended to check indigenous Carmo and protect Punic allies such as Gadir. This remains an interesting hypothesis but their arguments for mercenary recruitment are at least convincing. Mercenary recruitment reflects some social significance. Matthew Trundle stresses “the traditional connections of patronage and friendships that underpinned mercenary relationships.”749 Drawing mostly on Classical Greek examples for mercenary recruitment, Trundle emphasizes how long established links such as aristocratic alliances and diplomatic relations such as guest-friendship and proxenia were used to access the social networks in communities that rounded up recruits. 750 Quesada Sanz argues likewise for Carthaginian recruitment of Iberians. 751 Mercenaries sometimes formed deep bonds with their employers. Trundle also emphasizes the importance of port cities as rallying points and places for hiring, function Punic port cities offered to Carthaginian recruiters. 752 In terms of Carthaginian agents involved, Diodorus notes Carthage sent council members and in another instance esteemed 747 Pliego Vázquez 2003b; Pliego Vázquez 2003a; Pliego Vázquez and Ferrer Albelda 2011. 748 Fernández Caro 1992, 78; Ferrer Albelda 2007, 109–11; Pliego Vázquez and Ferrer Albelda 2011, 34. 749 Trundle 2013, 6. 750 Trundle 2004, 105. 751 For Iberians soldiers understood as xenoi in Sicily, see Quesada Sanz 2011, 207. 752 Trundle 2004, 111. 186 citizens to recruit mercenaries from Iberia.753 Epigraphic evidence from Volubilis and Cirta name officers charged with recruitment as shathor or mishthar.754 Whether the apparently ad hoc appointees mentioned by Diodorus or more formally appointed officials, personal ties to friends and clients in Punic and Iberian communities would have been important for sustained and reliable recruitment. Overall, the evidence suggests that many indigenous communities in Iberia had significant interaction with people, things, and ideas from the Punic world. At times there may have been direct interactions with Carthaginian traders and agents sent to obtain mercenaries, but interactions were mediated through more complex and intermingled social networks. As Barcid generals began to subdue communities and negotiate alliances, those preexisting connections would have been the most obvious channels through which negotiations could take place, conditioning the “feel” each side would have had for the expectations of the other. PART 2: COERCIVE CAPABILITES In this section I assess the coercive capabilities of the Barcid empire by the time Hannibal crossed the Ebro and the limits of that power. Coercion can be understood as visible actions, or threat of actions, that will cause loss or damage to individuals or communities as well as their possessions. 755 Coercion must be perceivable in order to be effective. The principle coercive means by which Carthage asserted and maintained imperial authority were soldiers 753 Diod. 13.80, 14.47. 754 Fanṭar 1993, 2:82. 755 I modify Tilly’s definition of the term: Tilly 1990, 19. 187 and administrative officials, including military officers, accountants and scribes. 756 The term imperial agent describes these sorts of people. Soldiers relied on physical structures to control territory, including temporary camps and watch towers but also military settlements that were more regularly inhabited, which could be called colonies, as well as garrisons in existing communities. Carthaginians established new settlements and appropriated existing ones. Fortifications of some local settlements also expanded at this time, though it is often difficult to assess (see chapter two) whether this indicates Carthaginian occupation or local initiative. Hostage taking was important too, with damage to the hostage being an understood threat. Non-coercive strategies were also employed to forge legitimacy among locals, taking the form of patronage and personal ties between generals and local elites, including marriage alliances. The composition of the Barcid army, its growth over time, and difficulties of the sources have been addressed in chapter two. Dexter Hoyos’ estimate that Hamilcar landed with a force of about 20,000 men is reasonable and Hannibal’s inscription i n southern Italy, according to Polybius, attests to his departure from Iberia with 90,000 infantry, leaving behind a standing force in the range of 25,000 men to defend Iberia.757 The Carthaginians appear to have become increasingly capable of sustaining large standing armies for campaigns, supported by tribute and mining revenues. Quesada Sanz argues that in terms of tactics and arms, the Carthaginians held a distinct advantage over indigenous forces, noting how the Carthaginian ability and will to wage total war differed significantly from traditional indigenous warfare, characterized by seasonal 756 There is no positive evidence about officials in Iberia beyond military commanders attested in literary sources, though traditional imperial agents attested epigraphically such as accountants (i.e., fina ncial officers/quaestores) and various sorts of scribes were likely employed: Lancel 1995, 120. 757 Hoyos 2003, 56. Hannibal’s inscription at the Lacinian Cape, Pol. 3.33.5 -18, 28.46.15-16, Jaeger 2006; troops for Hanno, Pol. 3.35.5, Livy 21.23.1-3; summary of sources for Hannibal’s forces: Quesada Sanz 2005, 137–8. In his work on Carthage’s metallurgical industries Kaufman has argued that the state’s high quality iron provided a “competitive advantage regarding ferrous technological approaches to warfare,” Kaufman 2014, 38. 188 raiding and limited aims, with the capture of fortified settlements being rare.758 Indigenous resistance at times relied on ad hoc and unstable coalitions. The second coalition that Diodorus reports, under the leadership of Indortes, fell apart before battle began. Indortes was abandoned by most of his forces and captured by Hamilcar, who had him blinded, mutilated, and crucified, though the thousands of prisoners were set free.759 This blend of violence and clemency was an intelligent, coercive policy, which minimized wasting the lives of men that Hamilcar and his successors were trying to control. I have already explained the economic and strategic significance of Carthago Nova and El Tossal de Manises. Foundations such as these were of prime strategic value, particularly Carthago Nova, which served as an impenetrable stronghold in the southeast, while also controlling neighboring mines. El Tossal de Manises to the north could have served as a new node along the maritime network of southeastern Iberia, forming a triangle between Ibiza and Carthago Nova. In terrestrial terms, El Tossal was placed between the two most important oppida in the region, Ilici and La Serreta, placing a check upon both. While Carthago Nova (c. 40 ha.) served a variety of economic functions, the far smaller settlement at El Tossal de Manises (c. 2.5 ha.) may have been strictly military in nature, perhaps mostly inhabited by soldiers. Gadir and Carteia The expansion of walls at Gadir and Carteia has already been addressed in chapter two. Numismatic finds as well as ceramics and destruction levels strongly indicate a Barcid dating for the expansions at Gadir’s terrestrial settlement of Castillo de Doña Blanca; the excavators of Carteia’s walls have likewise argued for a Barcid dating from associated finds. Architecturally the 758 Quesada Sanz 2003, 108–14; for latest discussion of the debate about the presence or absence of siege tactics and technology among Iberians prior to the Roman period see: Quesada Sanz 2015, nn. 54 & 97, though such practices, if employed at all, do not appear to have been widespread. 759 Diod. 25.10.1-2; Hamilcar likewise enrolled defeated locals into his ranks after his first victory against the coalition led by Istolatius; Hoyos 2003, 56–9. 189 walls correlate with the seaming and beveling of the ashlars employed at Carthago Nova. 760 These port cities were critical for logistical control in the region, with Gadir’s proximity to the Guadalquivir estuary offering access into the interior. These shared features and chronological correlations imply Carthaginian intervention but do not reveal the political significance of this building activity. It is unlikely that the Carthaginians seized these settlements from their Punic allies and rebuilt them as fortresses. The find of a single Hispano-Carthaginian coin in Carteia presents a stark contrast with the dozens of bronzes recovered from Carthago Nova. The inhabitants of Gadir and Carteia were capable of funding such expansions, to which previous renovations at Gadir in the fifth century and Carteia’s second foundation in the fourth century attest. Gadir’s continued minting of coinage, now explicitly naming the city’s minting capacity in its legends, advertises its political autonomy. There is precedent for the expansion of fortifications among autonomous, allied communities in Punic Sicily. As Carthage began to wage war in late fifth-century Sicily, Punic Panormos, commonly understood as politically independent from Carthage, was outfitted with new fortifications. 761 With the Carthaginians stirring up conflict with local communities in the vicinity, such measures are not surprising. Livy records that a Carthaginian garrison was stationed in Gadir in the year 206, following the disastrous defeat at Ilipa. López Castro takes this to indicate that Hannibal garrisoned Punic allied communities at the start of the Second Punic War to secure their fidelity and contribution to the war. 762 This may be so but it also possible that these measures were taken during later stages in the war. By 206 Rome had already taken Carteia and most of 760 Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003; Montanero Vico 2008; Bendala Galán 2010; Marín Martínez 2012; Blánquez Pérez 2013. I have omitted comment on the casemates, which are another point of similarity, but do not qualify as a precedent for this period. 761 Miles 2011a, 121. 762 López Castro 1995, 84–7. 190 Carthage’s other local allies were lost; by then the citizens of Gadir saw the war was lost and were understandably contemplating defection. 763 López Castro is correct that the long war with Rome strained political relations and Livy reflects Carthaginian alliances at their nadir. Yet even if garrisons had been stationed earlier, they need not have been unwelcome. 764 Alliance with Carthage made Punic communities targets for local retribution and Livy’s account of Hannibal’s operations in Italy attests to Italian communities requesting protection. 765 In 215 Locri submitted to Hannibal under the explicit agreement that it would retain its autonomy while allowing Hannibal access to the city, which was indeed protected by a Carthaginian garrison when it requested additional aid from Hannibal in 208. 766 Carmo appears to have been refortified at this time too and may indeed reveal a more coercive scenario. Carmo Other communities had less favorable relations with Carthage and Carmo may have been one of them. Building on Jimenez’ study of the gate of Carmona, Bendala Galán argues that Carmo was taken over and rebuilt by the Barcids. 767 The gate shows the same beveling pattern in contemporary Punic constructions. Though this interpretation is not supported by stratigraphic evidence, the strategic importance of the settlement sugge sts it would have been of great interest to Carthage and too valuable to trust in local hands. The large settlement had an urban area of over 40 hectares and Julius Caesar called it the most powerful city in the province.768 Keay et al. show that its location atop the northern Alcores ridge commanded visual 763 Livy 28.30. 764 For the obligation of Hellenistic kings to provide protection and consenting attitudes o f cities toward garrisons see: Strootman 2011, 146 n. 17. 765 E.g., Petlia’s request for protection from Rome (Livy 23.20); Cumae’s request resulted the sent troops successfully repelling Hannibal’s siege (Livy 23.35.10-37). 766 Livy 24.1.13 & 27.28.14. 767 Bendala Galán 2001. 768 Caes. B Civ. 2.19.4; size of urban area: Keay, Wheatley, and Poppy 2001, 404. 191 dominance over most of the Lower Guadalquivir Valley; this visibility was complemented by El Gandul, about 25 km. south on the same ridge, also believed to be a Barcid camp (fig. 4.12).769 García-Bellido offers further arguments for the strategic importance of Carmo and its Barcid connection. 770 García-Bellido argues for an ingenious etymology for Carmo, which would have its name stem from a Carthaginian place name, QRTMHNT, “city of the army,” paralleling legends on Carthage’s earliest military coinage in Sicily.771 She also highlights similarities between the imagery of Carmo’s subsequent coinage and Hispano-Carthaginian coinage. Lastly, she emphasizes isotopic evidence that ties the lead in some Hispano-Carthaginian bronzes to the Río Tinto, arguing that the mint for these coins was located at Carmo. Together a persuasive case can be made for Carthaginian investment in Carmo as a central node in the system of territorial control in the Lower Guadalquivir. Yet it is difficult to assess what this would have meant for its local inhabitants. While the settlement could have remained in the hands of a trusted local leader, the fortifications and Carmo´s importance suggest Barcid encroachment and at least the installation of a garrison. García-Bellido also argues that coinage from the Republican period with an aberrant form of Neo-Punic writing reflect military colonies put in strategic places by the Barcids ( fig. 4.13).772 After the war was over, these “Barcid cleruchs” used a form of Punic as the lingua franca among their ethnically mixed community. García-Bellido brings new blood to an old argument that saw these as Libyphoenician mints due to the deviant neo-Punic script and some phonetic irregularities along with remarks from literary sources about Carthage’s use of 769 Keay, Wheatley, and Poppy 2001, 405–6; for Carmo’s geo-strategic significance see also: Bendala Galán 2010, 450. 770 García-Bellido 2010, 208; the same author also argues that Carmo was actually the Akra Leuke founded by Hamilcar, as noted by Diodorus (25.10). This interesting hypothesis is difficult to affirm or refute. 771 García-Bellido 2011: QRTMHNT > QRMHN > C/KARMO. 772 García-Bellido 2013a; cf. Carretero Poblete 2007, 157–201. García-Bellido identifies the apparent outliers of Turirecina and Arsa in the north as intended to protect mining interests in that region. 192 Libyphoenician colonists.773 Jiménez rightly critiques the underlying assumption that these legends reflect a distinct ethnic group. 774 While it is difficult to assess why these communities chose to mint with these scripts, it is possible that some could have been military colonies. The community of Lascuta may have begun as a Barcid military colony. 775 Lascuta’s first coins have the name Gisco on them, a common Carthaginian name and their iconography is unique in its use of elephants on reverses, with images of Melqart-Herakles on the obverse, a likely allusion to Hispano-Carthaginian coinage.776 If this is correct, then these veterans’ memory of their service in the Carthaginian army remained an important means of defining their community, though the use of Gadir’s iconography for Melqart-Herakles could reflect a new patron. Excavation of such sites is required, and in the case of Bailo helps support García- Bellido’s arguments. But in most cases, the legends are the only evidence available and alone are insufficient to establish a secure connection to Barcid colonization. Chaves Tristán also uses coinage to locate Barcid soldiers, offering a map with tentative identifications of Carthaginian “camps” (fig. 4.14).777 Because these areas were not monetized, she assumes that contemporary coinage was likely dropped or placed by soldiers. 778 This includes the site of El Gandul, which Ferrer and Pliego identify as an old outpost for recruiting mercenaries and a sensible site to (re)occupy. While most sites are simply concentrations of 773 For more in depth discussion of sources and issues see chapter two. One issue I draw attention to here is Garcia-Bellido’s reference to Livy 21.45, in which Hannibal promises land to soldiers. This has been taken as evidence for Carthaginian colonization and appropriation of Iberian land. While this may be so, no author has yet recognized the polemical context of the speech in which this promise is made, nor its absence from Polybius’ account. 774 For review of modern debate and evidence see: (Alicia Jiménez 2014). 775 García-Bellido 2013a, 311–14. 776 Villaronga’s class III, see chapter three. 777 Chaves Tristán 1990: the term “camps” seems to understand temporary fortifications of perishable materials as well as more lasting settlements. 778 García-Bellido 2010, 206. 193 coins in strategic locations but without excavation, Montemolín and Puente Tablas merit closer consideration. Situated along the Corbones River southeast of Carmo, Montemolín (Marchena, Seville) had been inhabited since the bronze age, was abandoned in the fifth or fourth century, and was reoccupied in the late third century by Carthaginian soldiers, evinced by the presence of Carthaginian amphorae and Hispano-Carthaginian coinage.779 The nearby acropolis on Vico also shows signs of reoccupation at the end of the third century with a level of destruction probably associated with the Second Punic War (fig. 4.15). 780 Ferrer Albelda also calls attention to a hypogeum tomb found in the vicinity with an associated funerary stele that feature horses and palm trees, symbols characteristic of Carthaginian coinage (fig. 4.16). 781 The burial could be that of a Carthaginian soldier or officer. Not far south of Castulo at the settlement of La Plaza de Armas de Puente Tablas Carthaginians seem to have rebuilt an abandoned oppidum, last occupied in the late fourth century (figs. 4.17 & 4.18). The superposition of the later wall over its eroded predecessor is evident and according to Molinos and Ruiz, the later wall comes “clearly from the Punic presence in the zone.”782 Prados Martínez highlights the use of opus spicatum, not attested in indigenous architectural techniques but known in Carthaginian structures, including Kerkouane. 783 The author also identifies a domestic structure with pre-Roman stratigraphy that includes a peristyle, also unusual for the region, which may have been the home of a Carthaginian officer. Livy records that after a defeat in 214 the Carthaginians withdrew to the 779 Chaves Tristán 1990, 618; Vargas et al. 1993, 32–34; García Vargas, Mora de los Reyes, and Ferrer Albelda 1989, 236. 780 Bandera Romero and Ferrer Albelda 2002, 140, 144. 781 Ferrer Albelda 1999; esp. the reverse of Villaronga’s type XI, the most widely produced type of Barcid coinage. 782 Molinos and Ruiz 2015, 52. 783 Prados Martínez 2007. 194 nearby oppidum of Aurgi, over which this settlement may have been intended to exercise control.784 The Carthaginians likely reused and retooled other abandoned fortifications in a similar manner. 785 Exploration of a possible Roman camp at La Palma in the coastal region north of the Ebro River reveals a good methodology for taking Chaves’ model one step further beyond the coins and topography. 786 La Palma has been identified as the possible Roman stronghold of Nova Classis mentioned by Livy. Though no structures have been uncovered, concentrations of amphorae as well as a few hundred Roman and Carthaginian coins on the hill top point to the presence of soldiers. This provides a better understanding of Rome’s initial foothold in the area and provides an example of how excavation, topography, and literary sources can be used together to locate possible camps. A final camp to consider is the Carthaginian camp excavated at Cerro de las Albahacas, which has been identified with the battlefield of Baecula where Scipio Africanus defeated Hannibal’s brother Hasdrubal in 208. The Carthaginian camp has been located toward the summit of the hill, with the Roman camp to its southeast. 787 For treatment of the weapons recovered, the assemblages are rather homogenous and difficult to attribute to specific sides or ethnic groups. 788 Trial tenches have been dug in the Carthaginian camp, which is estimated to have been about 55 hecatres. 789 From the east side of the camp excavators have found remains of post holes probably related to the defenses of the camp. The lack of stratigraphic finds so far suggests the camp was hastily created for the battle and then abandoned. As more of the area is 784 Prados Martínez 2007, 97; Ruiz and Molinos 2007, 131–56. 785 Moret 1990, 5–6. 786 Noguera Guillén 2012; Noguera Guillén, Ble Gimeno, and Valdés Matías 2015. 787 Molinos Molinos et al. 2015. 788 Quesada Sanz et al. 2015, 394. 789 Rueda Galán et al. 2015, 294–98. 195 excavated it can be hoped that the layout of the camp can be better understood and perhaps provide more diagnostic data for identifying Carthaginian camps elsewhere in Iberia. In terms of smaller scale fortifications, Pliny mentions fortifications established by Hannibal, the so-called “turres Hannibalis.”790 These watch towers or small fortified settlements were still visible in Pliny’s day and may have accompanied small rural settlements as well as strategic frontiers between larger ones. 791 Some of these fortifications would have been already been established by locals and appropriated by Carthage and later by the Romans. 792 Prados Martínez offers a territorial model for the locations of such towers and small forts in the upper Guadalquivir valley (fig. 4.19). Next diplomatic means of coercion are considered. Carthaginians and Romans took hostages to bind communities in Iberia to political agreements. Because Carthaginians did not exchange hostages with locals, hostage taking formalized unequal power dynamics. Both Livy and Polybius consider hostages to be a critical factor in Carthage’s ability to control Iberians and the strategy was probably effective. It is only after Scipio Africanus’ capture of Carthago Nova and the release of hostages held there that clear gains can be seen in Roman attempts to dislodge local communities from Carthage. At that point named individuals such as Andobales and Edeco are recorded to have approached Scipio and offer support against Carthage. In these scenes Iberian reluctance to break from Carthage is explicitly linked to their families being in Carthaginian hands. Yet I have also shown how these scenes were crafted to meet the historiographical agendas of Greco-Roman authors, particularly to vilify Carthaginian rule in the work of Polybius and reify Roman magnanimity in Livy’s work (chapter one). There are also philological issues in 790 Plin. NH 2.181 & 25.169. Discussion: Moret 1990; Prados Martínez 2007, 86, 94. 791 For the use of turris to indicate small settlements see: Moret 1990, 24. 792 Prados Martínez 2007, 86; Marín Martínez 2012, 59. 196 terms of the incredible scene of hostages being freed from Saguntum, which some scholars suspect to be a doublet of the hostage scene at Carthago Nova.793 I have demonstrated how Polybius and Livy were willing to speculate about or outright invent details about barbarian characters in order to serve their historiographical aims. This tendency complicates the overall significance of hostage taking and its pervasiveness as a Carthaginian diplomatic tool. It should also be remembered that even after the Carthaginians lost the hostages at Carthago Nova, they proved capable of raising large forces from the areas still under their control in southern Iberia. This attests to the remaining coercive potential posed by the factors already considered but also to the efficacy of non-coercive strategies for alliance building. It is easy to overestimate the coercive power of ancient empires. 794 Local subjects limit, shape, and enable imperial power. Peter Bang and Christopher Bayly present this as a sort of paradox of empire: “the problem… [is] reconciling the creation of strong state capacities with the continuation of local and regional traditions and forms of autonomy, both facilitating the mechanisms and limiting the reach of imperial rule.” 795 The Barcid empire was no exception to this imperial paradox. Besieging walled cities is costly in terms of time and resources. Hannibal’s siege of Saguntum alone took eight months; the city’s defenses were formidable but by no means exceptional.796 The destruction of cities is also a highly undesirable result because such centers, and their local leadership, were ultimately indispensable for the extraction of tribute, particularly manpower.797 Territories are far harder to control when they lack hierarchical 793 Beloch 1915; De Sanctis 1979, 244; considered by plausible by Walbank 1957, 1.432; some reservations voiced by Scullard 1930, 47. 794 Strootman 2011, 145. 795 Bang and Bayly 2011, 4; for importance of indigenous intransigence, cf. Thomas 1991, 84 . 796 Montanero Vico 2008, 94; Marín Martínez 2012, 50; Strootman 2013, 68; Quesa da Sanz 2007, 75–7. 797 Tilly 1990, 58–9. 197 institutions, including hierarchy physically embodied in organized settlements, and strong internal leadership. 798 The limited administrative capabilities of the Barcid state also demanded that local social networks stay intact. Carthaginian bureaucracy appears to have been of limited capacity, as in many pre-modern empires, and Barcid administration appears restricted mostly to Barcid generals and officers.799 These simple constraints rendered local cooperation not only desirable but necessary. The Barcid empire was successful precisely after the battles were won, Carthaginian leaders were able to cooperate with those entrenched in the social hierarchy of a local communities. This is why Carthaginian generals made efforts to create ties with locals and foster positive political relations. The literary sources emphasize personal ties between generals and locals. Hasdrubal the son-in-law of Hamilcar was particularly well remembered for his diplomatic skill. Polybius praised his wise and practical administration and Diodorus emphasizes his appreciation for fair dealing and preference for peace over war. 800 Livy records the same preference for diplomacy over force, nurturing hospitality and friendship among local leaders, and his general talent for rousing the Iberians and joining them under his authority. 801 Hasdrubal’s diplomacy successes were enabled by local community’s willingness and ability to deal with him. Hasdrubal focused on consolidating southeastern Iberia in particular, where he founded Carthago Nova, and as I show, this was a zone where affinities for the Punic world were strong. 798 Eighteenth-century French colonial officials faced precisely this dilemma in the Great Lakes Region of America, White 2011, 16–17, 38, 56–7. 799 Limited bureaucracy, if any: Ameling 2013, 379–81. González Wagner has conjectured that the Barcids utilized something similar to the “pagi” system employed in Africa, Lancel 1995, 259–62; González Wagner 1999, 287–88. That system appears to have utilized large estates worked by a combination of sharecroppers, free laborers, and slaves, Lancel 1995, 279; Ameling 2013, 369; cf. Polybius on Libyan peasants, Polyb 1.72, Miles 2011a, 204; Hoyos 2003, 27. Carthaginian landowners would have been important for state extraction. How things operated within Iberia is largely unknown. Besides territory directly controlled by Carthaginian colonies, local elites would have been important for the collection of tribute from their territories. 800 Polyb. 2.13.1, Diod. 25.11. 801 Livy 21.2.5-7. 198 Acclamation by the soldiers was an important tactic. Diodorus claims that upon his accession to command Hasdrubal was acclaimed as general by the army and the Carthaginian people.802 Hannibal’s succession was likewise approved by army and people. 803 Diodorus provides a further detail about Hasdrubal’s command, recording that after successful campaigning and marriage to a local elite, he was proclaimed “supreme commander by all the Iberians”.804 This action, however staged, provided Hasdrubal’s Iberian troops with a voice and let them to approve his leadership. Later attempts of Iberian leaders to name Scipio Africanus a king may have been inspired by Barcid precedents.805 Charismatic generalship and fostering personal ties with soldiers is a well-known tactic of ancient generals, particularly of the Hellenistic age. 806 Barcid generals also made use of marriage alliances, ties of patronage, and perhaps a specific form of patronage recorded in Roman sources as devotio Iberica. The marriage alliances that Hasdrubal and Hannibal formed are straightforward enough, resulting in direct and personal links to local communities and their aristocracies. 807 Marriage was an ideal way to secure a place at the head of local political structures. 808 Personal ties of patronage were almost certainly part of the reason for Hasdrubal’s popularity too though such practices are better attested for Roman generals toward local leaders, such as grants of gifts to faithful allies. 809 Polybius does record that Andobales of the Ilergetes had his realm returned to him because of his faithful service to Carthage (more below). It is sometimes supposed that Hasdrubal may have taken advantage of the particular institution of devotio Iberica. Appian and Plutarch record 802 Diod. 25.12. 803 Polyb. 3.13.3-4, Livy 21.3.1. 804 Diod. 25.12, (ὑπὸ πάντων τῶν Ἰβήρων ἀνηγορεύθη στρατηγὸς αὐτοκράτωρ). 805 Polyb. 10.40.2-5, Livy 27.19.4. 806 Miles 2011a, 225. 807 Diod. 25.11, Livy 24.41.7; Bendala Galán 2013, 69; Grau Mira 2004, 55; González Wagner 1999, 281. 808 González Wagner 1999. 809 Roddaz 1998. 199 Sertorius being honored by this specific Iberian custom, in which warriors pledge to fall with a leader in battle. 810 These strategies served Barcid leaders well and reflect Carthaginian attempts to acknowledge and utilize local institutions to forge and legitimate political ties. Though the remainder of this chapter focuses on how able locals were to understanding Punic world views and institutions, it should be kept in mind that these actions show the willingness of Carthaginian leaders to meet locals on local terms as well. I now turn to a brief consideration of Carthaginian relations with Punic allies, which has already received previous discussion; then I comment further on some literary evidence about indigenous communities before the deeper investigation of indigenous material culture that drives this chapter. In terms of Carthage’s Punic allies, it is commonly assumed that they enjoyed autonomy, as their striking of coinage suggests. 811 It is possible that they may have been taxed but in Sicily tribute is only attested for Greek cities. 812 The evidence suggests that it was not common policy to physically abuse or openly threaten allied Punic communities. The literary sources say nothing at all about Punic attempts at rebellion or Carthaginian violence against Punic communities, except during the final year of the war in Iberia. After Carthage’s defeat at Ilipa Gadir clearly saw the war was over and desired peace with Rome. It was at this point that the Barcid empire truly died, when its first ally had become its last. Deserters from Gadir planned to betray its Carthaginian garrison to Rome but Mago caught wind of the plot and arrested the conspirators. 813 Mago was subsequently ordered to make for Italy to join Hannibal and he supplemented his funds from Carthage by plundering Gadir’s temples and extracting 810 App. B. C. 1.112, Plut. Sert. 14; Arciniega 1978; Bendala Galán 2013, 71; González Wagner 1999, 281. 811 López Castro 1995; González Wagner 1999, 286; Mora Serrano 2003; Ameling 2013, 372–3. 812 Diod. 13.59.3, 114.1, 14.65.2. 813 Livy 28.23.6 & 28.30.4; 200 silver and gold from its people. 814 For what it is worth, Livy presents this as Mago’s decision (ipse), in contrast to the official orders and provisions from Carthage. Mago then launched a desperate attack upon Carthago Nova but failed to replicate Scipio’s success. Returning to Gadir, Mago found himself shut out, enticed the local magistrates to meet with him, and crucified them. After Mago’s departure, Gadir surrendered to Rome. 815 What this scene shows is the steady escalation of tensions and break down of relations, driven by desperate circumstances. This instance of abuse appears exceptional. Given Polybius’ agenda of criticizing instances of such harsh treatment, it would be surprising if such behavior would have gone unnoted had it been regular. It also appears to be the case that Gadir’s own magistrates whom Mago murdered were still in charge of the city despite the garrison. In terms of Carthage’s Punic allies, the communis opinio that their internal autonomy was respected is well-founded. Under normal circumstances Carthaginian commanders would have been reluctant and probably unwilling to abuse Punic allies in this way. Such coercive treatment is never mentioned in any contexts for Carthaginian treatment of Punic allies in Sicily either. 816 Baria’s fierce resistance against the Romans speaks against an abused and embittered ally. Relations with non-Punic communities were likely more variable but no less significant. Organizing local manpower for the army was a pillar of Barcid power and key to ensuring Carthage’s long term security as a Mediterranean power. Utilizing Iberian manpower resembles earlier strategies with subject populations in North Africa. In Iberia forces were probably raised in a number of different ways, including as allied tribute through treaty 814 Livy 28.36.3. 815 Livy 28.37. 816 In Polybius’ rendition of both the first (509) and second (348) treaties between Carthage and Rome, Sicily is treated differently from Sardinia and Libya, granting Romans freer activity in Punic Sicily; Polyb. 3.22-24. A Syracusan in Diodorus’ implies that subject cities paid tribute but maintained their own laws, Diod. 14.65.2. 201 obligations.817 Yet a key component to accessing these potential soldiers, just as in previous eras of recruiting mercenaries, was to acquire cooperation from local elites who could marshal them. Throughout the war with Rome Iberian elites appear to lead their own contingents of soldiers in battle. Bendala Galán describes Hasdrubal’s dealings with local leaders as, “an intelligent program of integration among the elites of local powers.”818 Ideally relations could be mutually beneficial, creating opportunities for ambitious leaders. The case of Andobales of the Ilergetes demonstrates how this could work. Systems of political and social hierarchy were already well developed in Iberia, most obvious in the rise of oppida but also visible in the economic variability in funerary consumption. 819 In some cases the need to mobilize tribute on behalf of Carthage may have disrupted local elites’ ability to exploit their dependents. But elites who brokered favorable positions with Carthage, for example by securing responsibility for mobilizing soldiers, could turn the threat of coercion from Carthage to their own advantage. This afforded opportunities to bolster their local authority and even broaden it over rival communities, while also gaining prestige through association with Carthage. 820 Both Livy and Polybius note Andobales’ faithful service to the Carthaginians. 821 Andobales is said to have mobilized 7,500 of the Suessetani to aid the Carthaginians in destroying the Scipio brothers in 211.822 Polybius records that as a reward for this service, Andobales had his “realm” (ἀρχή) returned to him. Good service seems to have resulted in an appropriate political benefit, yet it seems Andobales had already gained some benefits for 817 Goldsworthy 2000, 33; Quesada Sanz 2005, 134–5. 818 Bendala Galán 2013, 57. 819 Ruiz and Molinos 1998, 194–234; Sanmartí Grego 2009. 820 Grau Mira 2004, 64–5. 821 Livy 27.17, Polyb. 3.76.7; as seen in chapter one, Polybius more strongly emphasizes both Andobales’ faithfulness to Carthage and his abuses at Carthaginian hands, perhaps to the point of exaggeration. 822 Livy 25.34.6. 202 himself in securing responsibility for levying the neighboring community of the Suessetani. J ust five years later, with Carthaginian power broken, Andobales led a raid against the Suessetani, who were then allied to Rome.823 This suggests that Andobales understood himself free to return to business as usual in the Hellenistic world and raid the Suessetani. 824 Yet under Carthaginian rule, Andobales is credited for rallying that same ethnic group for the Carthaginian war effort. It is plausible that this reflects Andobales having become trusted enough to act as the Carthaginian strong man within the Ebro region over neighboring communities, thus being responsible for mobilizing manpower not only from the Ilergetes but also neighbors like the Suessetani. Carthage relied on men like Andobales to harness local manpower, while Andobales at once gained favor from the imperial power while also bolstering his local reputation as a military leader.825 Andobales demonstrates the importance of local elites for martialing resources as well as the opportunities such locals could grasp in doing so. Andobales seized opportunities as they came, and he was an ally on the periphery of the empire in a zone with relatively little contact with the Punic world. The allegiance of local elites was no less important in the core zones in the south to which I turn. The coercive capabilities of the Barcid empire, however formidable, were not enough to force all of these communities to submit to Carthage and to stand against 823 Livy 28.24.4. 824 Regularity of interstate warfare in Hellenistic world: Eckstein 2006; Fronda 2010; in the Iberian world: Quesada Sanz 2003, 130–40; Sanmarti has argued that Greco-Roman ethnic labels for groups north of the Ebro do appear to correlate with political and territorial realties, reflecting regional rivalries, at least for the coastal groups of the Indiketes, Laeetani, and Cessetani, though dynamics inland between the “Ilergetes” and “Suessetani” are not so clear: Sanmartí Grego 2009, 26. 825 One might call attention to reports of Carthaginian abuse of Andobales. Details of this are not present in Livy’s complete narrative and I have shown how Polybius’ more detailed account of Andobales’ abuse by Hasdrubal Gisco serve Polybius’ larger historiographical agenda of critiquing Carthaginian imperialism (chapter one). Here I offer some plausible contextualization. Polybius’ alleges the abuse initially arose from Hasdrubal attempting to exact tribute: “he laid on [Andobales] a demand for a great number of goods”(ἐπεβάλετο χρημάτων πλῆθος αἰτεῖν). With the Roman armies in Iberia finally defeated, the Carthaginians needed tribute to supply Hasdrubal Barca to reinforce Hannibal in Italy. Yet Andobales refused to pay this tribute, and from there the situation escalated. 203 thirteen years of Roman invasion. I now turn to evidence for the cultural affinities that compensated for the limits of coercive strategies and made the legitimation of Carthaginian power acceptable, comprehensible, and even seem sensible. I consider settlements in Contestania, Bastetania, and Turdetania in turn. 204 PART 3: LOCAL DISPOSITIONS 3.1 CONTESTANIA The main settlements in the region of Contestania by the late third century were Saetabi, La Serreta, and Ilici (modern name La Alcudia de Elche) (fig. 4.20).826 These were the most important centers for the Barcids to establish control over, which may be why El Tossal de Manises was established. Little excavation has been carried out in Saetabi though La Serreta in the interior is better excavated. Ilici has also seen some excavation and so have several of the settlements that appear subordinate to it, including La Escuera. In this section I begin with Ilici, then coastal settlements in the region, and conclude with their interactions with La Serreta. Coastal communities show significant entanglement with material from the Punic world reflecting engagement with Punic practices and people of Punic cultural backgrounds, sometimes even cohabitation. In the case of La Serreta, which was more isolated, its elites engaged in a strategy of selective consumption of objects of Punic provenance obtained from coastal communities in order to legitimate their ties to Barcid leadership as well as bolster their own prestige within their community as well as La Serreta’s control over subordinates communities in the Alcoy Valley. What arises is a coastal world with people well familiarized with Punic cultural practices, which helped Hasdrubal earn his reputation as an effective and fair diplomat. Many settlements in the area show signs of destruction or sudden abandonment datable to the late third century and often taken as signs of the Second Punic War. Such destruction include the possible Carthaginian colony of El Tossal de Manises but also local 826 Ilici mentioned by Ptol. 2.6.61 and Plin. NH 3.19-20; see also Grau Mira 2004, 58–62. 205 centers such as La Serreta, Ilici, and La Escuera as well as El Amarejo and Castellar de Meca (these last two are not discussed further here).827 All of these communities could be considered Punic friendly, some of which may have paid a heavy price for supporti ng the Carthaginians. 828 While in most cases it cannot be definitively proven which side a destroyed community supported, in some cases the evidence best suggests sustained interaction with the Carthaginians and beneficial arrangements, as in the case of La Serreta. The first major point of contact for the region was the settlement of the Phoenician colony of La Fonteta in the Segura estuary from the eighth to sixth centuries.829 Jaime Vives- Ferrándiz Sánchez explores entanglement and hybridity here to reveal Phoenician and indigenous Iberians living together while engaging in unequal trading relations and competition between groups. 830 Similarities in domestic architecture between la Fonteta and the nearby “indigenous” foundation of el Oral at the end of the si xth century, suggest that el Oral was founded by the inhabitants of la Fonteta.831 In the seventh century Ebusus was founded on Ibiza, which is widely acknowledged to have been an increasingly significant point of economic and cultural contact for indigenous populations throughout the Punic period.832 It is often assumed that Ibiza was the gateway through which “Tanit” incense burners first became available for communities in eastern Iberia (throughout the fourth and third 827 El Tossal de Manises: Olcina Doménech, Mas, and Porras 2010, 240–2; Olcina Doménech et al. 1998, 38–45; La Serreta: Olcina Doménech 2005, 165; Ilici: Grau Mira 2000a, 43; La Escuera Abad Casal and Sala Sellés Feliciana 2001, 63; El Amarejo Grau Mira 2000a, 43; Castellar de Meca: Grau Mira 2000, 43. 828 Sala Sellés 2004, 86; Sala Sellés 1998, 48. 829 Rouillard et al. 2007. 830 Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 305–7, 310–11; Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014. 831 Aranegui Gascó and Vi ves-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 248. 832 Llobregat Conesa 1974; Campo 2000, 90; Ramallo Asensio 2000, 203; Aranegui Ga scó 2010; Verdú Parra 2010, 309; commerce with the Circle of the Straits was also significant: Sala Sellés 2004, 82–4; Abad Casal et al. 2003, 88–91. 206 centuries), though local adaptations may have taken place quite rapidly. 833 The ample appearance of these objects could indicate a widespread affinity for Tanit among indigenous communities and some have even claimed their appearance was a direct consequence of the Barcid presence. 834 Tempting though this may be, their chronological diffusion is far too broad to attribute exclusively to the Barcid era; and the question of identifying local manifestation as Tanit is almost impossible to answer. More reasonable suggestions have these objects represent local syncretism of Tanit with a chthonic fertility deity.835 These objects soon came to be locally produced and their local production has recently been corroborated by the find of a mold in the coastal settlement of Tossal de les Basses (Albufereta, Alicante).836 In terms of usage, indigenous communities rarely used them to burn incense but instead buried them as terracotta votives, and some of the locally produced forms did not even include combustion chambers. 837 This sort of creative reinvention reflects both relational and material entanglement, resulting from a significant degree of contact between locals and their Punic neighbors and perhaps in some cases cohabitants. 838 Ilici/Alcudia Ilici (Elche, Alicante) is the main sight in the region of the Segura River, with La Escuera (San Fulgenci) probably as its dependent; both show signs of affinity toward Punic culture and la Escuera seems to have been destroyed in the Second Punic War. 839 The implantation of el Tossal de Manises within their immediate vicinity may have been enough of a check on their loyalty to ensure compliance, though installation of garrisons cannot be ruled out, especially due to the 833 Marín Ceballos 1987; Moratalla Jávega and Verdú Parra 2007, 363–5. 834 Identifications as Tanit: Poveda Navarro 1995; Sala Sellés 2004, 86. 835 Marín Ceballos 1987, 73; Moneo 2003, 431–35. 836 Local production in general: Marín Ceballos 1987, 44, 51–2, 73; José Pena 2007, 21; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 24; Tossal de les Basses: Rosser and Fuentes 2007, 98; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 30. 837 José Pena 2007, 18; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 21. 838 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014. 839 There are possible signs of destruction at Ilici too, but just limited to its temple. 207 find of hoard of coins in la Escuera. The dispositions of these communities and the destructions suggest that they may have resisted Roman advance in the Second Punic War; the excavators of la Escuera have suggested as much, tentatively dating its destruction to 209 with Scipio’s takeover of the area. Numismatic evidence suggests that Ilici’s Roman temple to Juno was once a temple to Tanit, which is supported by the find of an incense burner in the shape of a female head.840 Both of these communities may have managed to work out favorable if not tolerable deals with Carthage, with la Escuera paying a heavy price for it. La Escuera In chapter two I discussed the commerce-driven settlement of la Escuera and possible trade with Carthago Nova (see chapter two). The settlement was founded in the fifth century by the inhabitants of the nearby settlement of El Oral, which itself is believed to the successor to Phoenician la Fonteta.841 The Barcid presence at least appears to have had no negative impact on the overall stability of this settlement’s commerce and is likely the reason for its expanding repertoire of goods by the end of the third century, reflecting integration into Barcid systems of exchange.842 The settlement saw expansion in the third century which its excavators compare to expansions at la Serreta and construction at el Tossal de Manises. It also mirrors these settlements with regard to signs of destruction and abandonment linkable to the Second Punic War.843 A hoard of 52 or more Hispano-Carthaginian bronzes were recovered here from a cloth bag, perhaps left by a soldier in Carthaginian pay, though it could also be a savings hoard. 844 The 840 Incense burners at Ilici/Alcudia: Marín Ceballos 1987, 50; Moratalla Jávega and Verdú Parra 2007, 344– 46; for coin series with “IUNONI” on its architrave and commentary: García-Bellido 1990, 64; García- Bellido et al. 2002, V. 2 180, n. 3.5; temple in general: Blázquez Martínez 2000, 202, “El templo de Ilici es un típico templo fenicio.” Due to poor publication on the settlement of Ilici, I omit it form further discussion. 841 Abad Casal et al. 2003, 94. 842 Abad Casal et al. 2003, 91, 94. 843 Abad Casal and Sala Sellés Feliciana 2001, 205, 260–4. 844 Villaronga 1973, 83; Villaronga 1993, n. 185; García-Bellido et al. 2002, V. 1 159; minting of bronze coinage from the nearby Carthago Nova suggests quantities could have found their way to this nearby 208 settlement controlled the sanctuary at Castillo de Guardamar, known for its profusion of locally produced terracottas in the shape of female heads;845 this could be a possible channel through which those consumed at La Serreta were obtained. A ritual space with eastern characteristics has been identified within the community, reflecting the affinities that could have made allian ce with Carthage workable, for which the community may have met its fate. Nordstrom excavated the temple in the 1960s and several of its chambers, noting architectural parallels with Carthaginian structures in North Africa. 846 Finds included oenochoe and a variety of simple serving vessels. Abad Casal et al. have followed up Nordstrom’s excavations in the settlement and are performing ongoing examinations on the temple itself. They propose that the temple was created in the third century along with contemporary civic expansion, noting its “Semitic” characteristics. 847 Aranegui Gascó attributes the temple to Carthaginian “influence” and Carthage’s commercial hegemony over the region since the fourth century, which could be part of the answer. But Punic cultural traditions were rooted in neighboring El Oral, a possible descendent of Phoenician la Fonteta, ; Ibiza may have been the most immediate point of contact within the region.848 The site’s recent excavators come closer to the mark, noting how its “Semitic” characteristics would have resonated well with Barcid activities in the region. 849 The abundance of local wares associated with the structure, however, remind us again that this community was also anchored in an indigenous habitus, produced by centuries of trade and mediation between peoples of the Mediterranean world and terrestrial settlements. If the elites of la Escuera identified with Carthaginian aspirations, they would have coastal settlement or could have been put into local circulation by Barcid soldiers stationed here or at El Tossal de Manises. 845 Abad Casal et al. 2003, 95. 846 Nordström 1967. 847 Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Moratalla Jávega 2012, 230. 848 Amphorae from Ebusus generally outnumber Carthaginian wares in the region at least until the Barcid era. Phoenician impact in the region in general: Abad Casal et al. 2003, 92. 849 Abad Casal, Sala Sellés, and Moratalla Jávega 2012, 232. 209 remained important agents for contact with other indigenous communities less entangled in the Punic world, and who may have been accustomed to experiencing Mediterranean products through merchants from la Escuera’s. Albufereta Necropolis & Tossal De Les Basses The likely Carthaginian colony at el Tossal de Manises was discussed in chapter two. In the vicinity there was a preexisting indigenous settlement at Tossal de les Basses (fig. 4.22) on another hill slightly to the west with its own necropolis, though its inhabitants may also have used the necropolis at the foot of the hill on which el Tossal de Manises rested, known as the necropolis of Albufereta. The relationship between these settlements and exactly who used which necropoleis and when, is far from clear. Nevertheless, Rosser and Fuentes, e xcavators of Tossal de les Basses, have suggested that its inhabitants used the necropolis of Albufereta and Verdú Parra, supports this hypothesis. Rosser and Fuentes also suggest that the population of Tossal de les Basses was incorporated into the settlement of el Tossal de Manises, based on the apparent abandonment of the former at about the time that el Tossal de Manises was (re)founded. The reconstruction of relations I offer here will be highly tentative but what is more certain is that when the Carthaginians (re)settled el Tossal de Manises, they settled among people that had immersed themselves in practices and material culture with strong affinity to the Punic world. Tossal de les Basses was a fortified settlement near the coast with walls dating to the fifth century. An industrial area outside of its walls was devoted to metallurgical activity and ceramic production. 850 Also recovered from the settlement were parts of two clay models of Biremes, suggesting the significance of trade, in which its productive activities were likely 850 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 250–1. 210 involved.851 An interesting burial at the sight is known as the “tomb of the warrior” which has been dated to the late third century, perhaps involved in the Second Punic War. The tomb includes arms as well as a three terracotta votives in the form of feminine heads (fig. 4.24). 852 Also critical is the recovery from this site of a mold for the production of the votives, of the local “Guardamar type.”853 The necropolis of Albufereta is located on the eastern side of the lagoon that sep arated it from Tossal de les Basses, close to the foot of the hill upon which el Tossal de Manises rests. 854 The necropolis was excavated in the 1930s by José Lafuente Vidal and shortly later by Francisco Figueras Pacheco, uncovering large quantities of exotic objects such as scarabs, amulets, Ostridge eggs, coins, and incense burners in the shape of female heads, composing the single largest collection of the final item in the region. It was used throughout the fourth and third centuries. The excavators saw these objects as evidence of Carthaginians and proof that that the unexcavated site of el Tossal de Manises corresponded to Hamilcar Barca’s colony of Akra Leuke.855 More recent interpretations believe it was used by a mixed community or indigenous community with strong Punic affinities, due to the scarcity of elements typical of Iberian tombs such as arms, as in la Serreta in the interior. 856 Verdú Parra suggests that the necropolis was first used by the indigenous inhabitants of Tossal de les Basses, the occupation of which appears to end at about the time that Carthaginian construction takes place at el Tossal de Manises, which may have absorbed inhabitants from Tossal de les Basses and producing a mixed community. 857 Many of the exogenous objects such as Attic wares have fourth-century contexts, showing that 851 Rosser and Fuentes 2007, 59; Horn 2011, 649. 852 Rosser and Fuentes 2007, 48; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 28–9. 853 José Pena 2007, 21; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 30. 854 Olcina Doménech 2005, 158. 855 For discussion see chapter two; Verdú Parra has undertaken to reexamine the original publications from the 1930s, offering a more coherent treatment of the material: Verdú Parra 2005. 856 Verdú in Olcina Doménech 2009, 37; Verdú Parra 2005, 107–9. 857 Rosser and Fuentes 2007, 62; García Cardiel 2014a, 119. 211 users were already well attuned to the wider cultural koine of the Mediterranean before the Barcid era.858 Yet the consumption of Punic coinage of the late third century, including Barcid coinage, suggests its continued use after the (re)founding of el Tossal de Manises, which may have stimulated exchange in the region.859 The problematic publication ultimately reinforces the fuzzy picture of cultural interaction that these mixtures of objects reflect. The Albufereta cemetery contains some 32 of the incense burners, one of the denser finds in the region, with many traditionally dated to the fourth or third centuries. 860 Together the tombs reflect cosmopolitan tastes of users who selected objects of diverse provenance, both local as well as Greek and Punic. 861 Tomb L 127 includes several incense burners along with ceramics jars for perfume (fig. 4.24). Olmos Romera emphasizes the qualities of child nurturing evoked by the incense burners and accompanying terracotta, which depicts a woman holding a child.862 The assemblage also includes a ceramic representation of a cave sanctuary with offerings (fig. 4.25). This brings to mind cave sanctuaries of Punic coastal sites, such as Es Culleram on Ibiza; the inclusion of a polychrome bust with parallels in Es Culleram as well as the necropolis of Puig des Molins is suggestive (fig. 4.26).863 Consumption of these objects embodies the cultural capital of the users, formalizing and reinforcing the users’ prestige within the community. These cosmopolitan tastes demonstrate sustained contact and perhaps coexistence with individuals of a Punic cultural background, particularly with Ibiza. 864 858 García Cardiel 2014a, 121. 859 Verdú in Olcina Doménech 2009, 37. 860 Moratalla Jávega and Verdú Parra 2007, 342–3; Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra have recently pushed for dating the height of consumption to the third century: Sala Sellés and Verdú Parra 2014, 31. 861 Olmos Romera 2007, 378. 862 Olmos Romera 2007, 373, 377, 379; cf. woman holding bird and child in tomb F100. 863 Horn 2011, C352. 864 Olmos Romera 2007, 388; Aranegui Gascó and Vives -Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 254. 212 A wide variety of objects appear in other burials, including coins from Ebusus, Carthage, Baria, and Gadir. The coins from Ebusus include its earliest issues as well as coins related to the Second Punic War, including one attributed to the Barcid levels of Carteia. 865 The two Hispano- Carthaginian coins correspond to bronze issues of Villaronga’s series VIII, attributed to Hannibal’s governorship (fig. 4.27). Verdú Parra argues that the coins may have had apotropaic uses or been meant for use in the next life. The author also sees the coins as evidence of the “influence” of Punic culture in these lands. 866 Selection of oil bottles of Punic origin, ostridge eggs, and amulets of glass beads could corroborate this interpretation, but risks undermining the selection of other exogenous items as well, such as Attic wares, as well as local ceramics. Funerary consumption here certainly attests to the cosmopolitan tastes of the users and the intensity of their engagement with Punic material culture.867 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz utilize Bourdieu’s habitus to argue that the particular mixture of items in these cemeteries should be viewed neither as Iberian nor as Punic but of coastal inhabitants of different cultural backgrounds coexisting and sharing funerary spaces. Sustained commerce with sailors from Ibiza was an important part of this process. 868 The result is a mix of people that are sharing their actions and world views for extended periods of time. When el Tossal de Manises finally came to be (re)founded for Carthaginian purposes, integration with its Punic community would not have felt unthinkable or unnatural, and relations could have resembled business as usual. 865 Campo’s type XII; Verdú Parra 2010, 306–11. The publication of the coinage is very confused; over a dozen other Hispano-Carthaginian coins from the Museo Arqueológico de Alicante may be associated with the lot, though it now is uncertain Verdú Parra 2010, 304; 866 Verdú Parra 2010, 326–7. 867 García Cardiel 2014a, 122; Aranegui Gascó and Vi ves-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 253. 868 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 255–56; García Cardiel 2014a, 122. 213 Whether locals would have appreciated Carthaginian encroachment on their traditional spheres of economic interests is another question. Given the poor state of publication on the actual settlement of Tossal de les Basses, interpretation is speculative. It is possible that locals used the Carthaginian presence to their advantage, as in the case of Gadir, with some perhaps serving in the Carthaginian garrison in the settlement. Yet people may well have chaffed at Carthaginian intrusion. In this case, familiarity with Punic cultural milieus would have just made it easier to understand and put up with an unwanted encroachment on local territory. Illeta dels Banyets Nine kilometers up the coast is Illeta dels Banyets, a well-organized commercial and productive settlement, thriving from the late fifth century up to the first half of the third century.869 Though probably not contemporaneous with the Barcids, this settlement demonstrates the blended cultural milieus and practices produced in coastal Contestania. 870 Productive and religious practices suggest strong interaction with Punic traders from Ibiza and perhaps cohabitation with people of a Punic cultural background. 871 Pottery kilns were located around the site and wine presses have been found within, with technical features similar to presses found in other Punic sites and distinct from presses at indigenous Edeta and Kelin. 872 Finds of attic pottery include graffitos in both the Greco-Iberic script and others in Punic, reinforcing the blended cultural milieu of the community. 873 Evidence from its sanctuaries reinforces this view. The settlement had two temples, one of which (temple B) housed an incense burner in the shape of a female head. Inside the temple Llobregat found an altar with burns on its inside 869 Olcina Doménech 2005, 156–7. 870 Aranegui Gascó 2010, 694. 871 Aranegui Gascó and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 255–6. 872 Olcina Doménech 2005, 154–6; Aranegui Gascó and Vi ves-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2014, 253. 873 Aranegui Gascó 2010, 362. 214 that he argued could have held the incense burner found in the same temple (figs. 4.28 & 4.29).874 Marín Ceballos observes the resemblance in usage in a temple at Carthage in the Salambó station, in which a Doric column was used to hold a pedestal for two similar incense burners.875 Again, rather than trying to identify the object as a representation of Tanit, though it may have been seen this way, significance rests in the simi larity in use of the object in a religious space of exogenous tradition.876 The space would likely have been frequented by merchants from Ibiza and perhaps Carthage too. 877 Coastal Contestania was a place of strong interaction between locals and the Punic world, a place where Carthaginian ways of doing things, from honoring gods to producing wine, would be familiar and comprehensible. One more site sanctuary further up the coast drives this point home. La Villajoyosa About 20 km. up the coast from Illeta dels Banyets the sanctuary of Malladeta rests on a small hill overlooking the coast near the indigenous settlement of La Villajoiosa (Villajoyosa, Alicante). It was used as an open air sanctuary from the early fourth century to the end of the second century, to which the excavated structures date. 878 Among the recovered amphorae 31.5% are of Punic typologies (of 418 identified sherds), demonstrating significant traffic in items from Punic communities of southern Iberia, Ibiza, and Carthage. 879 The presence of 172 fragments of incense burners and quantities of ash in sector five have led to its identification as an open air sanctuary. 880 Several examples of the Guardamar type have been identified, which were the type almost exclusively visible in the interior capital 874 Quotation of Llobregat Conesa 1984 from Marín Ceballos 1987, 57. 875 Marín Ceballos 1987, 57–8. 876 Olcina Doménech 2005, 152–3; García Cardiel 2014b, 83. 877 The site does contain some amphorae (T.4.2.1.5) of Carthaginian origin, though these may have just been redistributed though Ibizan channels: Olcina Doménech 2005, 157. 878 Rouillard et al. 2014. 879 Rouillard et al. 2014, 115–16. 880 Rouillard et al. 2014, 156–63. 215 of La Serreta. Contemporaneous with the Barcid presence, this sanctuary seems to have been frequented, before, during, and after our period. Its continued use during the Roman and Barcid period could signal a community’s strategy of reiterating territorial claims in the face of imperial presences. 881 The use of the highly localized Guardamar type, if coterminous with the Barcid presence, and this is purely speculative, could reflect some ambivalence to the Carthaginian presence, consuming a local hybrid to make sense of the new political reality in local terms.882 It is more certain that all of these local communities were immersed enough in the Punic world to be able to deal with Carthaginians and make sense of encounters with them through mutually recognizable, though not quite identical, patterns of consumption. This sort of environment enables the practices characteristic of Gosden’s colonialism within a shared cultural milieu. These communities and practices also provided avenues for indigenous communities i n the interior to respond to a changing world, which is evident in consumption in La Serreta. La Serreta La Serreta’s third century expansion and rise as one of the principle settlements of Contestania with enhancements to its defenses during the Barcid era have been discussed. 883 During our period the community experienced increased commerce with coastal settlements, trading agricultural surpluses for Mediterranean goods through el Tossal de Manises, perhaps also explaining the appearance of bronze Hispano-Carthaginian coinage in the community. 884 Lead sheets in Greco-Iberic script show that learned elites controlled commercial activity. 885 Control of trade and consumption of these goods created and reinforced patron -client networks, channeling exchange to maintain social preeminence over subordinates within the 881 García Cardiel 2015. 882 Van Dommelen 2002, 141. 883 Olcina Doménech et al. 1998, 37–41; the authors also emphasize how this monumental construction reinforced aristocratic power within the community. 884 See chapter two; Grau Mira 2003, 273–4; coinage: Mellado Rivera and Garrigós i Albert 2004, 202–4. 885 Grau Mira 2003, 273. 216 community as well as other subordinate communities.886 Upon the summit of the oppidum’s hill was a sanctuary, which fostered contacts between subordinate communities and attracted votives, gifts, and tribute payments, solidifying elite control over the Alcoy Valley. The community shows signs of destruction from the Second Punic War and was abandoned thereafter, with its fortunes apparently falling with those of Carthage. 887 For the Carthaginians, la Serreta was important for mobilizing agricultural tribute and especially manpower within the region. The necropolis of La Serreta, used from the fourth through mid-third century, reflects martial values of its users, with weapon deposits in many tombs. Falcatas (a single edged, curved blade of Iberian design) were typical deposits, though the quantity and quality of weaponry reflect social hierarchy, ranging from a single falcata to full panoplies, equestrian gear, and weapons inlaid with silver. 888 Consumption of weapons appears more “typical” and “Iberian” in contrast to the burials in the coastal necropolis of Albufereta. In the sanctuary, consumption of objects with Punic associations suggests a careful strategy by which elites of la Serreta integrated their new ties to Carthage into existing strategy of local domination, maybe in part to appease Carthaginian observers but more importantly to leverage ties with Carthage against subordinate communities over which elites of la Serreta mediated Barcid control to their own continued benefit. Carthage was integrated into an existing field of reproducing distinction and elite dominance in fields of competition for local political power. The sanctuary was first excavated in the 1920s and hundreds of votives were recovered. The original publication is somewhat confused about its location, which is believed to be on the summit of the hill, just outside the southern wall of the community (fig. 4.30).889 The use of the 886 Grau Mira 2014, 131–2. 887 Olcina Doménech 2005, 171; Grau Mira and Garrigós i Albert 2007, 146–7. 888 Reig Seguí 2000; F. Gómez Bellard 2011; Olcina Doménech 1997. 889 Olcina Doménech et al. 1998, 39–41; Grau Mira 2000b, 196–8. 217 sanctuary has been dated broadly to the third century, though it is plausible that many of these objects were consumed during the Barcid era. A Roman coin dating to the time of the Second Punic war has been recovered from the sanctuary and several of the lamps, also popular in the Punic world, have horizons in the late third century and later. 890 Juan i Moltó has dated the votives broadly to the third century, though Garcia Cardiel has argued that many of the terracottas were made hastily within a short bound of time, which he argues coincided with the Barcid presence. 891 It is plausible that increased consumption coincides with the general instability in the region, implicit in the Barcid presence but also evinced by the bolstering of the settlement’s defensive structures in the late third century. The votives are of a wide variety of forms and have evoked much discussion about the extent to which they should be characterized as Punic or indigenous. While Juan i Moltó argues that many of the types are typically local, the author observes that those of his type IX have long histories of production and use in Punic places, particularly in Sardinia and Ibiza (fig. 4.31). He argues that their artistic current surely proceeds from Ibiza, though they were made by hand, accounting for their wide variety of archaizing features. They were also consumed regionally, with parallels in Iberian contexts including Cabecico del Tesoro (Verdolay, Murcia) and Ilici. Ilici likely received its versions through the intermediation of La Escuera. These objects entangled users in La Serreta within the larger cosmopolitan milieu of coastal communities, upon whom they depended to obtain the objects that helped formalizing and maintain control over their local dependents.892 Another important class of objects are incense burners in shapes of femal e heads, which are predominantly of the “Guardamar” type, the local hybrid form, what 890 Coin RRC 69 3a, Mellado Rivera and Garrigós i Albert 2004, 202–204; lamps: Lara Vives 2005. 891 Juan i Moltó 1987, 328–9; García Cardiel 2014b, 85. 892 Hodder 2012, 213–15. 218 Stockhammer would call material entanglement, that often lack combustion chambers, reflecting its new local use purely as votives rather than incense burners (fig. 4.32). Garcia Cardiel argues that the elites of La Serreta employed a typically Iberian strategy in the use of terracotta votives in order to legitimize political cooperation with Carthage while simultaneously reaffirming their supremacy over local dependents.893 I fully agree with this interpretation and think it represents elites’ strategy for making sense of the Carthaginian presence and attendant instability. As Dietler has shown , cross-cultural consumption can reflect the production of new alliances and configurations of interest across cultural groups.894 Individuals from subordinate communities would be following the lead of La Serreta’s elites when making offerings at Serreta’s sanctuary. The possible presence of new Punic colonists at El Tossal de Manises would have made the “Punic” qualities of these objects more salient, as well as the political power and prestige of Carthage in general. Grau Mira argues that the adoption of these objects by elites in La Serreta could reflect their adoption of Carthaginian cult and ways.895 In this case I again tend to agree with Garcia Cardiel who suggests that these practices do not count as hybrid, at least not when compared to the communities on the coast, though contexts at La Serreta are admittedly not good enough to know exactly how these objects were used. Yet Garcia Cardiel’s interpretation falls short because it misses how the elites of La Serreta interact within the larger cultural milieu within the region. While elites at La Serreta were probably not becoming Punic, they were becoming entangled in local networks of users of things Punic in which Punic practices existed and prestige partly depended on these associations as much as those with Carthage. 893 García Cardiel 2014b, 87. 894 Dietler 2010, 66. 895 Grau Mira 2004, 63–4. 219 The coastal communities encountered so far were involved in the processes of exchange by which these objects were obtained and local consumption in coastal sanctuaries was the most immediate context of consumption. The artisan that crafted them may even have come from one of these coastal communities. Their consumption evokes the local contexts of coastal communities, garnering prestige for La Serreta and its sanctuary not only by association with Carthage but through association with cosmopolitan tastes of the coast. Grau Mira argues that the sanctuary was an important means for ideologically formalizing La Serreta’s regional dominance, and in terms of field theory, selective elite consumption of objects associated with the coastal communities served to consolidate elite social and political dominance. The association with coastal sanctuaries is part of what granted legitimacy to these objects and their appropriation in La Serreta, from where ceramics and other goods by which elites reinforced their distinction had traditionally flowed. Ultimately, even if people from la Serreta used these objects to reinforce their positions through association with Carthage and cosmopolitan consumers of the coasts, their distance from these cultural groups and indigenous aspects of their practices would have made such strategies only partly successful in the eyes of external observers. Those on the coast who were more familiarized with the objects and controlled access to them were in a better position to define the legitimate forms of consumption and cultural capital from doing so. According to Bourdieu the habitus of the outsider always risks betraying itself and will be less certain in its execution. The same could apply to dealings with Carthaginians, who might potentially mock indigenous uses of things Punic as illegitimate and who anyway held stronger positions within fields of power due to the coercive potential that backed them and their interactions, tinting any dealings with locals. So, if Hasdrubal actually had made an offering at the sanctuary, his habitus as a powerful Carthaginian general would automatically qualify his use of things Punic as more 220 legitimate, reinforcing his actual political dominance in local dealings. In this way, local consumption not only familiarized locals with Punic ways but unintentionally served to legitimate Carthaginian positions of dominance. All the same this does not deny that such strategies worked to the advantage of elites in la Serreta, in terms of reinforcing their own local dominance, legitimating their political relations with Carthage, and easing interactions with actual Carthaginians. In this section I hope to have shown that ample history of cultural interaction with the Punic world meant that many players would have had fairly good feels for the game in terms of political interactions. Many coastal inhabitants knew what to expect from Carthaginians already, because of their dealings with others of Punic backgrounds and their own immersion in such practices. Communities more distant from the cultural milieu of these coastal communities still interacted with them and could mold older strategies of consuming exogenous objects to meet new political realties with the appearance of Carthaginians on the coast in el Tossal de Manises and Carthago Nova. For making colonial relations work in Contestania, the Carthaginians had a lot to work with. This appears to have been true in Bastetania too but restricted to fewer communities. 3.2 BASTETANIA Ancient Bastetania included a wide territory embracing all of modern Granada and Almeria as well as parts of southern Jaén, Albacete, and eastern Murcia (fig. 4.33).896 Indigenous settlements in the region had a long history of interaction with Phoenician communities along the coast, the most important of which were Seks, Abdera, and Baria. 897 Such interaction may be 896 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008; for discussion of ancient sources, esp. Ptolemy’s geography, see: Quesada Sanz 2008, 150–54; Salvador Oyonate 2011, 63–128. 897 López Castro 2008, 203. 221 reflected by Ptolemy’s mention of a mixed people called Bastulo-Punics in the coastal regions, but it is doubtful that this was a genuine ethnic identity with which individuals self-identified.898 Funerary material evidence from the Punic era suggests the extent to which indigenous communities of the interior interacted with Punic communities. Using criteria such as chambered tombs and the deposit of chicken eggs or goddess statues on thrones, the funerary material culture of communities further inland appears increasingly unlike Baria, with Castulo sharing nothing in common except for the presence of painted amphorae and Greek ce ramics (fig. 4.6). As elsewhere, Carthaginian leaders established personal ties to local elites in order to extract resources and local elites could improve their own positions in their community by doing so.899 Punic Baria and its possible colony of Tagilit allied themselves freely with Carthage. In the case of Baria there was ample common cultural ground and centuries of interaction with Carthage to facilitate this alliance. Because Baria interacted strongly with some indigenous communities, it probably served as Carthage’s best point of contact for reaching out to indigenous elites. The indigenous communities of the interior that show the strongest degrees of entanglement with Punic material culture is Tútugiand to a lesser extent Basti. 900 Baria played an important role in fostering entanglements in Tútugi and Basti and some of the people of indigenous cultural backgrounds who lived in Baria may have been connected to Tútugi. Most other indigenous communities appear more aloof, offering less potential for the legitimation of political relations on common cultural ground. I begin with a brief discussion of communities possibly destroyed or abandoned due to the Second Punic War. 898 Ptol. 2.4.6; Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2002. 899 Salvador Oyonate 2011, 679. 900 There are other promising candidates as well such as Cerro del Moro but lack of excavation impedes analysis. 222 Cerro de los Allozos and Arkilakis appear to have been destroyed at this time, and this may be the case as well for Cerro del Moro, Las Colonias, and Forruchú. The problem is that little excavation has been carried out on these communities, so identification relies mostly on their apparent abandonment based on survey data. Be that as it may, Adroher Auroux and others are fairly confident that Cerro de los Allozos was destroyed during the Second Punic War, though it is impossible to know whether destruction was at Roman or Carthaginian hands. 901 The same can be said for the settlement of Arkilakis (Puebla de Don Fabrique, Granada).902 Unlike destructions in Contestania, the lack of excavation makes it even more difficult to establish whether the apparently sudden disappearance of these communities was even caused by the Second Punic War and not Roman pacification in the following century, much less consider their possible interactions with Carthage. Far better information exists for Baria, where literary evidence and material indicate destruction from the Second Punic War. 903 Baria We have already viewed Baria’s close ties to Carthage through trade, and observed how Carthaginian goods became increasingly present during the Barcid period, while Baria likewise intensified its productive activities (see chapter two). Consumption of goods of North African provenance indicates a close relationship with Carthage from its founding in the sixth century.904 Signs of destruction related to the Second Punic War have been identified in its necropolis and around its walls. Literary sources attest to Baria’s resistance to Scipio Africanus 901 Adroher Auroux 2008, 222; Manuel Ramírez Ayas suggests it suffered for supporting Carthage but provides no evidence, in Adroher Auroux and Asociación de Estudios de Arqueología Bastetana 2008, 147–8. 902 Adroher Auroux 2014, 79; López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 154; Salvador Oyonate has argued against the conventional wisdom and places its destruction at Roman hands later in the second century, but evidence for its continued occupation into this period is thin Salvador Oyonate 2008. 903 Material evidence includes: burn layers datable to the Second Punic War and bodies with cracked skulls buried in the necropolis; for discussion see chapter two. 904 Aubet Semmler 1986a. 223 for three days during the Second Punic War. 905 Alfaro Asins hypothesized that this act of resistance reflects Baria’s independence as a city state during the Barcid era, though within Carthage’s political and economic orbit. 906 Victor Martínez Hahnmüller’s study of Baria’s political and economic role during the Second Punic War has strengthened this hypothesis: Baria’s citizens benefited economically from the empire and this helps explain their fierce resistance against Scipio.907 Martínez Hahnmüller also posits that Baria played an important role in Barcid administration of Bastetania, which is reasonable considering its access to inland Bastetania through the Almanzora River as well as previous ties with Carthage. 908 Interaction with Carthage is visible in Baria’s necropolis and in amphorae within the settlement. Hundreds of Ostridge egg vases appear in its older burials, certainly of North African provenance and some of likely Carthaginian manufacture. Luis Siret and Astruc, the original excavators of its necropolis in the early 20th century, proposed that Baria’s sixth-century foundation was at the hands of Carthaginians, though a Carthaginian foundation is no longer accepted by most experts. 909 Such finds instead signal close commercial relations, through which Baria may have helped Carthage satisfy its need for precious metals in the fourth and third centuries.910 Just as funerary evidence can be used to show some links between Carthage and Baria, it can also be used to show ties between Baria and local communities. Burials in Baria used large subterranean graves with chambers carved in rock, some with long corridors and 905 Plut. Apophthegmata Romana, Scipio Maior 3, Aulus Gellius, 6.1.8-11, Val Max 3.7.1A; for commentary see Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 33–43. 906 Alfaro Asins 2003, 7–8. 907 See chapter two; Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 128–36; López Castro, Martínez Hahnmüller, and Pardo Barrionuevo 2010, 124). 908 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 148. 909 On Luis Siret’s early publications: Cano García 2004, 11–21; López Castro 2007, 161–2; current views: López Castro, Martínez Hahnmüller, and Pardo Barrionuevo 2010, 129; López Castro 2007; necropolis: M. J. Almagro Gorbea 1986; Aubet Semmler 1986a; on ostridge eggs in particular: San Nicolás Pedraz 1975. 910 For evidence of pre-Barcid trade based on ceramics: López Castro et al. 2011, 64–5; López Castro, Martínez Hahnmüller, and Pardo Barrionuevo 2010, 124. 224 ramps for entrances. This same type of construction became popular at indigenous Tútugi in the fifth century and onwards. In addition to ostridge eggs, people in Baria began using chicken eggs in the fifth century, which also became popular at Tútugi and Basti. Chickens were not native to Iberia and seem to have been introduced by Phoenicians, so their adoption in Tútugi may reflect shared beliefs about the objects as symbols of life and fe rtility, as with ostridge eggs. 911 The principal deity of Baria was Astarte, who resided in a temple on the acropolis and served as a key institutional link between other Punic communities, including Carthage, as well as indigenous communities. López Castro assembles literary, epigraphic, archaeological, and numismatic evidence to demonstrate the existence of Astarte’s cult in Baria. Plutarch explicitly names the temple on Baria’s acropolis as dedicated to Aphrodite, the interpretatio graeca of Phoenician Astarte.912 Epigraphic attestation can be found on an unpublished funerary stele recovered by Luis Siret with a theophoric formula: GR’STRT, “follower of Astarte .”913 Excavation of the acropolis uncovered a cistern and various serving vessels including a ladle , associated with the temple rituals. In the same vein López Castro argues that weapons recovered from the acropolis near the cistern may be votives to the goddess from Carthaginian soldiers (fig. 4.34). 914 Finally, the author argues that the imagery on Baria’s coinage represents Astarte. The appearance of horns or perhaps Hathor’s headdress as well as the symbol of the crescent moon on the back, which also resembles horns, are indeed compatible with Astarte (fig. 4.35). 915 Together the evidence for a cult to Astarte at Baria is convincing. This cult would have served as an important point of contact between the inhabitants of the community and Barcid 911 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 151; beliefs about ostridge eggs: Moscati 1988b, 456. 912 Plut. Apophthegmata Romana, Scipio Maior, 3; commentary: López Castro 2005, 9. Best example of syncretism is Astarte’s temple at Eryx in Sicily: Pol 2.7, Diod. 4.83, Strabo 6.2.6. 913 López Castro 2005, 19–20; for brief commentary see Bonnet 1996, 97–8; exact location of find uncertain from available publications. 914 López Castro 2005, 11–18. 915 López Castro 2005, 18–21; perhaps with attributes of Isis: Alfaro Asins 2003. 225 officials, especially soldiers who may have made personal offerings at the temple. Accepting that the coinage depicts Astarte, it would not be surprising if Baria chose the principle deity of its local pantheon to represent its coinage during the Barcid period. That would signal its political autonomy while possibly alluding to Carthaginian power with palm trees on the reverse. Such a strategy would be in line with the usage of Melqart coinage by Seks and Gadir (chapter three). In the previous chapter I explored epigraphic evidence for Carthaginian patronage for Astarte of Eryx in Sicily and something similar could certainly have been at work here, similar to Hannibal’s patronage of Melqart at Gadir. Baria’s Astarte cult may have been even more important for Carthaginian administration because it not only provided a means of interacting with the community of Baria but also was a point of contact for dealing with Baria’s own local allies. As in other Phoenician cities, the temple and its deity played an important role in legitimating commercial transactions among local people for centuries. 916 Some local form of Astarte’s cult may have been practiced at Tútugi, reinforcing relations between Tútugi and Baria.917 The possible presence of an indigenous cult to Astarte at Tútugi has been based on the deposit of an alabaster statue of a seated goddess of Phoenician design, the so-called “Lady of Galera,” recovered from the richest tomb of the community (fig. 4.36). At this point it is useful to discuss Tútugi and its funerary evidence in greater detail. Tútugi The necropolis of Tútugi (Galera, Granada) has seen relatively extensive excavation since the early twentieth century and recently a new series of excavations (fig. 4.37).918 Similarities with Baria in terms of objects consumed include: chicken eggs, painted amphorae and Attic 916 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 153; Maria Eugenia Aubet Semmler 2001, 277–8. 917 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 153. 918 Rodríguez-Ariza, García de los Reyes, and Rodríguez-Ariza 2014. 226 pottery.919 Another notable similarity is the use of chamber tombs, with over 25 of them appearing at Tútugi of similar design of those at Baria, which itself includes over 50 ( figs. 4.38 & 4.39). Of course designs vary between tombs within both sites, and more modest burials exist in both necropoleis.920 The popularity of this type of tomb at Baria may reflect influence from Carthage but could also involve Ibiza, where hypogea in Puig des Molins are prominently attested.921 Compare the relative absence of these types in the Punic necropolis of Puente del Noy in Seks (Almuñecar).922 A distinctive act at Tútugi is the regular inclusion of local ceramics and weaponry, especially falcatas.923 Another key difference is the popularity of cremation, a fundamental distinction in terms of practice. This reflects careful adoption of some exogenous features and deliberate rejection of others in consonance with traditional practices. 924 The most elaborate burial is tomb 20, in terms of the richness of goods deposited and the hierarchy it reflects in its central position over other tombs within the necropolis, leading its excavators to conclude it was related to an important lineage. 925 First used in the fifth century, the tomb is best known for the deposit of the Lady of Galera. Almagro Gorbea dates the original production of the figure to the seventh century Levant and identifies it as a representation of Phoenician Astarte, probably selected for the prestige value of its oriental resonance. 926 Baria would be but one plausible avenue through which the object was obtained. It is not certain whether local elites would have identified the goddess statue as Astarte, a local syncretism, or something else entirely. 919 The use of stone funerary boxes is another important similarity. 920 Chapa Brunet 1997, 145. 921 Van Dommelen and Gómez Bellard 2008, 60. 922 Only two examples attested: (Bierling and Gitin 2002, 59–64). 923 Chapa Brunet, Pereira Sieso, and Madrigal Belinchón 1993, 417. 924 Chapa Brunet, Pereira Sieso, and Madrigal Belinchón 1993, 419; Rodríguez-Ariza, Gómez Cabeza, and Montes Moya 2008, 179. 925 Rodríguez-Ariza, García de los Reyes, and Rodríguez-Ariza 2014, 69–72. 926 M. Almagro Gorbea 2009. 227 At some time thereafter an open air sanctuary was constructed directly above the tomb, intentionally mirroring the subterranean space and its corridor. 927 The platform framing the shrine was painted white and shaped like a bull skin. This religious symbol was of eastern origins (known as a Cypriote ingot) and was originally adopted by local communities in the Orientalizing period.928 The famous sanctuary at Carambolo (Seville) included golden objects of this shape as well as a statue identified as Astarte, which has contributed to Carambolo’s identification as a sanctuary to Astarte. 929 Whether it held this significance in Tútugi itself is unclear. What is more important is that interaction with Baria was part of a larger process by which the original family constructed funerary space, which was subsequently reinvented through localized symbols of prestige to honor an ancestral lineage and perpetuate the family’s social dominance. The acts implicate communities of Phoenician origin within local strategies of formalizing aristocratic power.930 With the coming of the Barcids, elites at Tútugi could have exploited connections with Baria to continue similar strategies of self-promotion. Practices evident at Tútugi suggest elites here were in a better position to do so than in most regional communities, in which the intensity of previous interaction and affinity for appropriating exogenous practices are less evident. 931 Funerary evidence at Baria also suggests indigenous cohabitation. Near the necropolis is another cemetery with cremation burials accompanied by weapons and indigenous pottery. 932 Indigenous cohabitation reflects close relations between indigenous elites and those of Baria. 933 Indigenous amphorae at Baria and the penetration of Baria’s types (T.1.2.1.3) into the interior 927 Rodríguez-Ariza, Gómez Cabeza, and Montes Moya 2008. 928 Marín Ceballos 2006. 929 Moneo 2003, 69–71. 930 Hodder 2012, 113–15. 931 Here I would note that Basti (Baza, Granada) does show some of the same features , though not as strongly. Other important centers such as Acci are even more distinct in their material culture. 932 Chapa Brunet 1997, 149; Alfa ro Asins 1993c, 274; Aubet Semmler 1986b, 620. 933 Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2002, 279–80. 228 reflect the commercial activity that these relations fostered.934 The opposite case was true at indigenous Iliberri near modern Granada, where a section of wall of Punic design suggests a Punic enclave was established within this indigenous community, perhaps to facilitate its links with coastal settlements such as Seks (figs. 4.40 & 4.41).935 In the case of Baria, an important intermediary for its interactions with communities of the interior was its possible colony of Tagilit. Tagilit Tagilit was founded 60 kilometers inland along the Almanzora River, on the Cerro la Muela del Ajo in modern Tíjola (Almeria). A combination of epigraphic, numismatic, and archaeological evidence points toward this location. In 1976 a farmer discovered an inscription in the Armuña de Almanzora, about 3 km. from Tíjola. The honorary inscription names the Res Publica Tagilitana, which is believed to correspond to the modern place name of Tíjola (fig. 4.42).936 Tentatively dated to the late first or early second century CE based on letter forms, the inscriptions commemorates Voconia Avita’s gift of baths to the Res Publica Tagilitana. The stone reads: Voconia Q(uinti) f(ilia) Avita thermas rei publicae suae Tagilitanae s(olo) s(uo) s(ua) (pecunia) f(ecit) easdemq circensibus editis et epulo dato dedicavit a quo opus tuendum usumq(ue) perpetuum (t)hermarum praeben dum r(ei) p(ublicae) Tagilitanae X II D dedi(t) Vocania Avita daughter of Quintus 934 López Castro 2007. 935 Adroher Auroux 2014, 78–79. The community’s own coinage and the appearance of a hoard of Hispano-Carthaginian silvers nearby are suggestive, but the contexts are too unclear for any sharper analysis, so further discussion of Iliberri has been omitted. 936 First published by: Resina Sola and Pastor Muñoz 1977; I follow the original publishers’ transcription of the text and identification between the toponyms, also followed by Alfaro Asins 1993b; Ferrer Albelda 2009; further epigraphic discussion about the stone with regard to larger pattern of euergetism in Roman Spain: Melchor Gil 1994. 229 made baths for her own Republic of Tagilit out of her own money alone She dedicated the same baths with circuses put on and a feast given. For their perpetual conservation of this work and the supplying of the baths she gave 2,500 denarii to the Republic of Tagilit. Numismatic evidence suggests that the Res Publica Tagilitana sprung from a Punic community, or one with strong Punic ties. Alfaro Asins subsequently identified this community with bronze coins found in its vicinity, dated to the late third century or early second. The earlier series employed the legend MPL’ TGLT “work of Tagilit,” in neo-Punic letters, with the later series employing the legend TGYLT.937 Alfaro Asins reasonably identified these coins as products of Vocania Avita’s community, providing a glimpse into the Punic ties of pre-Roman times. The coins share iconographic features with those of Baria, including palms, crescents, and female heads. The iconographic resemblance and the fact that finds are primarily restricted to Tíjola and Baria led Alfaro Asins to suggest that Tagilit could be a colony of Baria. Coins of Baria also appear frequently within the zone of Tíjola, affirming a connection.938 If this is correct, Tagilit was well placed to extract mineral resources from the region. Near Tíjola the Cerro de Muela de Ajo has been identified as a significant industrial center involved with copper and silver mining during the fourth and third centuries, which the image of an ingot on one of Tagilit’s bronze series corroborates.939 Tagilit’s mining operations and access to Castulo would have been of interest to the Barcids. If Tagilit followed Baria’s lead in its support for the Carthaginians, this could explain the similarity of its numismatic iconography with Hispano-Carthaginian coinage. The female deity on 937 Alfaro Asins 1993b. 938 Alfaro Asins 2000c, 107–10. 939 Alfaro Asins 1993b, 241–2; Alfaro Asins 2000c, 107; Ferrer Albelda 2009, 408. 230 Tagilit’s earliest series has been tentatively identified as Tanit, and the use of palms are a common motif on Carthaginian bronzes that circulated in Baria at this time, also evident in Baria’s own coinage. Alfaro Asins argued that Baria likely utilized Tagilit’s proximi ty to the Sierra Nevada to obtain metals; the trail of Attic wares leading from Baria through Tagilit and to Castulo corroborates the commercial importance of this channel (fig. 4.6).940 The appearance of Baria’s own amphorae at Tútugi further reinforces the link between the two. 941 In this way Tagilit would also have served as an important intermediary for indigenous people seeking Mediterranean products from Baria’s port. Overall Tagilit indicates a deeper penetration of a Punic community or one with a strong Punic cultural background into the interior, which would facilitate interaction between indigenous inhabitants and Punic individuals living on the coast. The rural sanctuary at Baria served as another locus of interaction. Baria’s rural sanctuary was located on the bank of the Almanzora River about half of a kilometer from the settlement. It includes a favissa from which dozens of incense burners in the shape of female heads and several other terracottas have been recovered. Though little of the structure remains, it has been possible to identify a roughly rectangular space with a paved floor space and clay altar for offerings. 942 There are two or three different generations of incense burners present, some imported from Ibiza and some which were probably made locally. There are also examples that do not have combustion chambers and could only have served as votives.943 This local practice suggests that either the sanctuary was used by indigenous visitors or that users from Baria had adopted this indigenous custom. One of those that Horn identifies as a local production also includes an inscription (unpublished) with a Libyan or Numidian name, 940 Ferrer Albelda 2009, 408; Alfaro Asins 1993b, 241. 941 López Castro and Adroher Auroux 2008, 153; Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2002, 279. 942 López Castro 2001. 943 Horn 2007, 261; M. J. Almagro Gorbea 1983, 295. 231 perhaps indicating an artisan from North Africa involved in production. 944 A few terracottas related to other gods appear too, notably a portion of one depicting Melqart-Herakles and two votives depicting Bes. This indicates diverse patronage, perhaps sailors, as in other Punic coastal sanctuaries.945 The principle deity of the shrine is most commonly assumed to be Tanit. 946 These objects and their use in the sanctuary implicate a number of different agents. That some of them were simply used as votives resembles practices in Contestania, which may indicate adoption of a larger regional pattern of usage. Baria was a significant port for those sailing between Ibiza, Contestania and the Circle of the Straits. As a hypothesis, perhaps some of the sanctuary’s visitors came from Contestania, or at least frequented those sanctuaries as well, encouraging the rise of the habit of using the incense burners simply as votives in Baria. Use of the sanctuary suggests it attracted a diverse set of users. This underscores how Baria functioned as an important locus of interaction, intermingling individuals from diverse cultural milieus within Iberia and outside it. Overall, the principal oppida in the region weathered the Barcid conquests and the Second Punic War just fine through intelligent strategies of submission and negotiation. Baria was critical for the maintenance of Barcid power in the same way that Gadir was. As a firm ally it offered Carthage a reliable base for operations but just as importantly, its centuries of interactions with local communities had helped accustom them to Punic ways and material culture. But this was not a one-way stream of acculturation but instead a process of mutual exchanges and entanglements, with individuals from indigenous cultural milieus trading and living alongside people in Baria. This mattered all the more for the Barcids, because those in Baria had sufficient experience with local practices and dispositions to act as intermediate 944 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 137. 945 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 139; Horn 2007, 260; López Castro 2001, 84. 946 Martínez Hahnmüller 2012, 132; M. J. Almagro Gorbea 1983; López Castro 2001, 83–84. 232 where common ground between Carthaginians and locals was thin and in this way offering alternatives to the use of naked force to compel obedience. 3.3 TURDETANIA Concluding in the Lower Guadalquivir Valley which roughly corresponds to ancient Turdetania, lack of excavation and the archaeological visibility of practices make it difficult to study interactions during the Punic period. For the most part indigenous people in Turdetania did not bury their dead in ways that are archaeologically visible and aniconic tastes ensured that votives were not consumed in sanctuaries to any extent comparable to communities discussed thus far.947 This makes it hard to offer more than the anecdotal evidence already examined, such as Strabo´s mention of Phoenicians living among Turdetani or the adoption of Neo-Punic scripts among several communities, especially among the coast. Among them the community of Bailo appears to have developed a strong Punic background by Roman times, though evidence for our period is scarce. 948 A statue at Torreparedones from Roman times bearing the inscription Juno Caelestis has often been taken as a Roman syncretism of Tanit, though excavation of the settlement likewise offers very little from the Punic period.949 Minting in later periods reveals affinities for Punic gods like Melqart, but that evidence has already been assessed. Evidence for actual practices during the third century is unsatisfyingly slim. I limit this section to remarks about Gadir’s commercial presence and an addendum to the discussion of Carmo. 947 Lack of visibility: Gómez Bellard 2014, 74. 948 Alicia Jiménez 2007. 949 Marín Ceballos 1995; Cunliffe, Fernández Castro, a nd Brooks 1999; Seco Serra 1999. 233 With the rise of Gadir’s commerce with communities such as Ilipa, Spal, Caura, and Carmo during the later fourth and throughout the third century (see Chapter two), Ferrer Albelda suggests that Punic-Gaditanian influence settled upon an older cultural substratum from the Orientalizing period.950 The same author has even said that the Barcid era cannot account for the profound Punic influence evident in the region. This observation seems correct but is hard to explore in depth for our period. There is good evidence for intense trade between Gadir and Ilipa, Italica, Spal, Carmo, and Cerro Macareno (discussed in chapter two). Yet beyond the intense commerce with Gadir and consumption of its ceramics, it is hard to establish deeper points about similarities and affinities in terms of practices, though similarities in cooking gear such as “Punic mortars” and saucepans.951 Evidence from Carmo in the Roman period provides a somewhat clearer picture. It is likely that the inhabitants of Carmo were rather familiar with Punic ways, as evidence from the Roman period suggests adoption of Punic ways. Bendala Gal án argues for the importance of Punic customs in the Roman necropolis of Carmo and Jiménez elaborates this argument.952 Thousands of stone funerary urns have been uncovered in burials at Carmo which often occur with local ceramic bottles, perhaps for offerings, resembling practices at Bailo Claudia on the coast, which had strong Punic roots. Similarities between the necropoleis also include the use of glass unguentaria and eggshell vases. These objects may be associated with funerary banquets and libations to honor the deceased. 953 García-Bellido’s argument that Carmo’s coinage adapted features of Tanit from Hispano-Carthaginian coinage suggests that the Barcid presence had a lasting impact, though does not help understand how initially receptive 950 Ferrer Albelda 2007, 207. 951 Ferrer Albelda and Prados Pérez 2002, 274; García Fernández and García Vargas 2011; Sáez Romero, García Fernández, and Ferrer Albelda 2015. 952 Bendala Galán 1976; Alicia Jiménez 2008. 953 Alicia Jiménez 2008, 33–35. 234 Carmo would have been to Carthage. 954 Finally, baetyli were popular at Carmo, a funerary form often associated with Punic cultural backgrounds.955 Carmo’s revolt with Punic communities against the Romans about a decade after the end of the Barcid empire is also significant.956 In 197 the Iberian king Culchas and his ally Luxinus precipitated a revolt against Rome among the communities of southwestern Iberia. Livy names two Punic communities that participated, Malaka and Seks, along with “Turdetanian” Carmo. 957 Displeasure with the Roman presence does not prove Carmo had been any happier with the Barcid presence, but its willingness to coordinate with Punic communities is significant. This evidence for affinity to Punic ways suggests that the Carthaginian imposition would have been at least more tolerable and it is possible that some local elites may have tried to turn it to their advantage. Overall Turdetania should be expected to be a place of relatively intense affinity toward Punic practices, even if available evidence only provides glimpses of such affinities in broad strokes. 954 García-Bellido et al. 2002, V. 2 84–6. 955 Deamos, Hayes, and Curado 2001. 956 Menéndez Argüín 2001. 957 Livy 33.21.6-9; App Iber. 25; Str. 3.2.2. 235 PART 4. CONCLUSIONS In Plutarch’s life of Philopoemen, the Achaean general reflects a keen sensitivity for the limits of battlefield victories and coercive power compared to the need for close collaboration with locals.958 Philopoemen’s opponent Cleomenes has conquered Megalopolis but its citizens have fled the community. Cleomenes offered to return the city, the land and the possessions of Megalopolis’ citizens to them, but Philopoemen sees through to the heart of the ploy: “that Cleomenes was not so much offering to restore their city as he was trying to win over to himself its citizens, that so he might have the city also more securely in his possession; for he would not be able, Philopoemen said, to remain there and guard empty houses and walls, but the solitude would force him to abandon these also .”959 This image of an empty city is instructive. Empires are made of people and the success of imperial actions and aims are limited by how well imperial authorities can meld structures of coercion with those of persuasion and negotiation, how well they themselves can negotiate the tension between granting local leaders autonomy and impeding local agency. Where cultural worlds are vastly different, the potential for such negotiation is greatly limited and more difficult. Because communities of common Phoenician descent had lived on the shores of Iberia for up to five hundred years or more and because the Carthaginians themselves had long histories of prior interaction with local communities, there was a great deal more common ground to work with than the ethnic labels used by Greco-Roman authors to distinguish Carthaginians from Iberians suggests. Many communities were indeed of distinct cultural backgrounds, had little in common with Carthage, and merely suffered under Carthaginian exploitation. Hannibal’s conquest of the Vaccaei is a case in point, though southern Iberians participated in that campaign and profited from it too. 958 Bang 2011, 185. 959 Plut. Phil. 5; Perrin translation: Perrin 1914. Passage discussed in Bang 2011 as well. 236 Yet the familiar Greco-Roman narratives of imperial domination and exploitation of barbarian people provide only part of the story. Reliance on such sources alone produces a misleading and one-dimensional narrative of Barcid imperialism, eclipsing interactions, negotiations, and entangled practices in favor merely of abuse and reliance on force, as if the latter existed in a social vacuum. Emphasizing local dispositions, agendas, and power structures helps reveal how the Barcid empire actually functioned and was sustained. Local practices and dispositions reveal a far more complex and messy picture, which comes closer to showing us what the Barcid empire was actually like. 237 CONCLUSIONS In 206 BCE an unnamed shophet may have wondered where it had all gone so wrong. He was a citizen of Gadir. He may have been present to see Hannibal sacrifice to Melqart and his success at Saguntum, heaping spoils as offerings to Melqart for success against Rome, and enriching the temple treasury in the process. Perhaps he had even been there to see Hamilcar Barca land at their city, asking the god for similar favor and promising his allies at Gadir that his undertakings were going to mean great things for ancient Gadir. Things were indeed pretty great, for a while. With communities along the Baetis Valley pacified and bound to Carthage, raids and banditry had noticeably decreased, which was good for business. And business was doing well. The ancestral salt fish industry boomed like never before, for a while. Soldiers were always coming and going, both foreign mercenaries and native recruits. The shophet’s contacts at Spal and Carmo were always demanding more fish than he could provide. And the local wines were proving quite palatable to Carthaginian colonists too, though some of them continued to swear by their North African vintage. The new kilns were even producing those Tanit statues that he heard had become so popular in eastern Iberia; Carthaginians seemed to like them and the soldiers from across the peninsula who were moving through town on occasion now had developed a taste for them too. Personally, the shofet had no interest in Tanit and the dire mysteries attached to her cults further east, but to each his own. And here it all was coming to an end. Everyone knew it, except for Mago Barca. Mago was sending soldiers around to rob the shofet’s fellow citizens, taking any precious metal they could get their hands on, including the beautiful silver coins Gadir had only started minting. The shofet would have been right to suspect Gadir would never mint in silver again. He was determined to see the war over and strike favorable terms with the Rome, which was the only 238 option possible at this point. And for that he would lose his life to Mago Barca, the only person left in Iberia who couldn’t see it was lost. Mago had even had the nerve to speak of their alliance and friendship, after he had plundered the temple his brothers and father had honored so dutifully. Friendship had been easier before, when things were going well. But now, with fortunes eroding, Mago’s words were empty, he had ruined those relations by brin ging violence into the community. Did the fool realize he may be remembered as the only Carthagini an commander in history to turn so viciously on his Punic brothers? Things had been so perfect. This subjunctive narrative reflects a very possible reality based on the evidence analyzed in this work. The violence that Mago committed against Gadir was re al and precisely the sort of action that Polybius was interested in explaining. Yet Polybius’ narrative assumes that such violence was not characteristic before the Carthaginians were faced with exigencies of the Second Punic War. Especially exceptional was Mago’s willingness to harm allies in Gadir of the same colonial origins and community identified through Hispano-Carthaginian coinage. When the empire was stable, I argued in chapter two that citizens in Gadir and Baria were reaping significant economic benefits and there is some evidence to believe the same thing was occurring among autochthonous communities such as La Escuera. In the future I would hope to examine more indigenous communities for signs of economic intensification, though establishing such developments requires an abundance of evidence that few sites afford as of now. We have also seen how that economic activity came at the expense and exploitation of some indigenous communities. Some of those enslaved on campaigns likely found themselves working in Carthaginian mines. The mining operations were almost certainly the most profitable aspect of the Barcid empire, producing silver coinage by the millions by which the coercive 239 capabilities of its armies were maintained. The consumptive demands of soldiers, colonists, and laborers stimulated new channels of exchange, providing commercial opportunities for Carthaginians in North Africa and locals as well. This bolsters Kahrstedt’s hypothesis that expansion in Iberia was driven at least partly for the need to rebalance Carthaginian trading opportunities with the loss of Sicily and Sardinia. The construction of new settlements as well as the renovation and expansion of existing settlements such as Gadir and Carteia represent significant economic activity and investment in civic infrastructure of economic consequence. Carthago Nova was certainly the most significant example of this trend, providing opportunities for non-elites from Carthage to relocate to Iberia as colonists, with some filling productive niches in the city to serve the nearby mining center. With Scipio Africanus’ capture of Carthago Nova, mining revenue in the region was immediately lost. This may have struck a more crucial blow to the Barcid machine than the release of political hostages, the importance of which may have been exaggerated in the works of Polybius and Livy. The dearth of material evidence in Carthaginian mining centers is a regrettable hole in our knowledge. Isotopic analysis of coinage recovered from the supposed battlefield of Baecula could help reveal the relative quantities of coinage struck from silver extracted from the mining regions in Barcid territories, which up to now only some from the region of Carthago Nova have been mentioned anecdotally by authors involved in that project. It would be interesting to find if the majority of silver can be traced to this single region, which would suggest heavy investment in operations around Carthago Nova and perhaps less invasion into indigenous centers in the Sierra Morena. Another economic dimension of the empire one should like to know more about is the extent and impact of colonization, for which surveys of rural landscapes would be a good first step, though excavation thereafter would be ideal. 240 While I hope to have shown a new view of the Barcid empire by demonstrating its economic significance for Carthaginians and locals, the most novel contribution of this work is its emphasis on its cultural dynamics. This reflects the advantage of approaching an old topic with only relatively new insights. It might seem banal to insist to most historians of the Roman Empire that imperial authorities attempted to connect with their subjects and allies on perceived common grounds and that shared beliefs and practices facilitated imperial interactions and the legitimation of power. Yet these essential and basic insights have received very little exploration in previous work. The connections I have shown through Hispano - Carthaginian coinage and how it could serve to identify with local cultic networks may seem traditional in some respects and again might not seem impressive to scholars working on similar topics in Greek and Roman contexts. Yet antiquated arguments about the coinage reflecting a Barcid Dynasty in the way of Hellenistic Monarchs have distracted scholars from establishing these basic points about the actual religious significance of minting images of Melqart-Herakles. Local reactions are also somewhat unsurprising. Communities began to mint coinage or reinvent their coinage, in the case of Gadir, in order to sanctify their territorial integrity in times of uncertainty. Their ability to mint strongly suggests that these communities enjoyed political autonomy, which is an easily underestimated piece of information. Yet local minting and its significance with regard to the Barcids, the ways communities used coinage to stand their ground, identify with Barcid power, or simply ignore Carthage, have received no systematic treatment. The ideological significance of shared Phoenician i dentity and shared worship of Melqart-Herakles provides a glimpse into the way that Carthaginians would have interacted with locals. I wonder how often Carthaginian soldiers and colonists visited indigenous sanctuaries and how such visits may have increased in frequency (or not) had the Barcid empire been permitted to survive longer. 241 The examination of coercive forces and local dispositions is what the work was really building toward the whole time. What is an empire, really? The answer cannot just be a few chests full of riches, a well-paid army, and a few hundred elephants. From the start of this project I have insisted that the locals who inhabited the Barcid empire, who paid tribute, who traded with Carthaginian merchants, who showed up to watch Hannibal make an offering at a temple (or who stayed home and baked bread), who served in the army, who resisted Carthaginian armies, these people were the Barcid empire. Understanding their relations with that empire, how they viewed it, how they may have been disposed toward Carthaginian people and ideas and things, the better one understands how the Barcid empire worked and how it was experienced. I have shown that analyzing patterns of consumption and practice, particularly in light of Bourdieu’s theories, provides massive potential for assessing the dispositions of locals and breaking down the crude ethnic labels that Greco-Roman sources and textbooks have made obvious categories of analysis. Emphasis on practice gets around these sticky matters of identity and helps approach the heart of the matter: how well could people have made this thing work _ Many locals were well entangled in the stuff and ideas of the Punic world and particularly the Punic world of Iberia, which facilitated the interactions that sustai n and help legitimate imperial ambitions. In future work I hope to dig more deeply into local contexts and communities, and better show how individuals of Punic cultural backgrounds had become enmeshed in indigenous practices as well, as demonstrated at Baria. Overall, the extension of political and economic dominance over the territories studied in Iberia had a significant impact on many Carthaginians and especially on the locals within imperial domains. I hope to have illustrated how empire brought people together and reconfigured traditional power structures and economic strategies. Some were definitely better equipped to deal with these changes than others, and Carthaginians benefited first and 242 foremost. But the imperial structures that supported political and economic dominance also depended on local networks with which some Carthaginians had interacted for centuries. In this way, the empire can be seen as an intensification of previous interactions while at the same time forcing new interactions upon local communities too, many of whose responses can only be guessed at. Yet the strength of economic ties forged, of coercive structures employed, and entangled social relations helps explain why Rome’s invasion required so many Roman victories to break Carthage’s hold over Iberia, and perhaps too why Roman power took centuries to solidify. The social, political, and economic roots of the Barcid empire ran deeper than Polybius ever suspected. 243 BIBLIOGRAPHY Abad Casal, Lorenzo, S. J. Keay, and Sebastián F. Ramallo Asensio, eds. 2006. 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Cambridge University Press. 269 Figures Introduction Figures Fig. i.1 Overall Map of Sites Discussed 270 Fig. i.2 Sites in Southwestern Iberia 271 Fig. i.3 Sites in Southeastern Iberia 272 Fig. i.4 Map of Second Punic War (Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2011) 273 Fig. i. 5 Finds of Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage (Alfaro 1993 fig.1) g. i.6 Proposed Model for Colonial Interactions 274 Chapter 2 Figures Fig. 2.1 Approximation of The Carthaginian Presence via Numismatics and Literary Sources (López Castro 1995 fig. 24) Fig. 2.2 Dispersion of Hispano-Carthaginian Coins (Alfaro Asins 1993 fig. 1) 275 Fig. 2.3 Dispersion of Carthaginian Black Glaze Ceramics in the Third Century (More l 1986 fig. 38) Fig. 2.4 Mining Centers of Iberia (Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2011) 276 Fig. 2.5 Roman Mining Settlements in the Region of the Rio Tinto River (Jones 1980 fig. 1) Fig. 2.6 Location of Corta del Lago in Río Tinto (Jones 1980 fig. 2) 277 Fig. 2.7 Roman and Pre-Roman Mining Settlements in the Region of Cartagena (Orejas & Sánchez-Palencia 2002 fig. 7) Fig. 2.8 Settlements in Southeastern Iberia 278 Fig. 2.9 Topography of Carthago Nova (Ramallo Asensio and Vizcaíno Sánchez 2007, fig. 1) 279 Fig. 2.10 Five Hills of Carthago Nova and Remains Pertaining to Barcid and Pre -Barcid Phases (Ramallo Asensio and Martín Camino 2015 fig. 2) 280 Fig. 2.11 Plan of eastern wall of Carthago Nova from Milagrosa (Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003 fig. 3) Fig. 2.12 Beveled ashlars of Carthago Nova from Milagrosa (Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003 fig. 4) 281 Fig. 2. 13 Excavations in Carthago Nova pertaining to the Barcid Era (Noguera Celdran 2009 fig. 5) Fig. 2.14 Amphorae of Late Third-Century from Plaza de San Ginés, Carthago Nova (after Martín Camino 1998) 1.2% 21.5% Carthaginian 33% Circuit of the Straits Ibizan Greco-Italic 22% Local Iberian 22%? Total Amphorae 240 282 Fig. 2.15 Settlements in the Bay of Albufereta (Olcina Doménech et al. 2010 fig. 3) Fig. 2.16 Plan of Late Third-Century Walls at El Tossal de Manises (Olcina Doménech et al. 2010 fig. 4) 283 Fig. 2.17 Eastern Gate of La Serreta (Llobregat et al. 1995 fig. 10) Fig 2.18 Hypothetical Rendition of Eastern Gate of La Serreta (Llobregat et al. 1995 fig. 14) 284 Fig. 2.19 Plan of Excavation of Punic Sector of Western Wall, Sectors 1-5 (Roldán Gómez et al. 2006 fig. 5) Fig. 2.20 Virtual Reconstruction of Western Entry Ramp into Carteia (Bendala Galán 2010 fig. 4) 285 Fig. 2.21 Beveled & Seamed Ashlars in Punic Wall of Carteia (Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003 fig. 10) Fig. 2.22 Map of the Bay of Cádiz Today (Aubet 2001 fig. 63a) 286 Fig. 2.23 Topography and Summary of Excavations in region of Castillo de Doña Blanca (Ruiz Mata 1995 fig. 11) Fig. 2.24 Topography and Excavations of Castillo de Castillo de Doña Blanca (Ruiz Mata 1995 fig. 12) 287 Fig. 2.25 Seamed ashlars with light beveling at Castillo de Doña Blanca (Bendala Galán and Blánquez Pérez 2003 fig. 7) Fig. 2.26 Amphorae of Third-Century from Tossal de Manises (after Sala Sellés et al. 2004) 11.5% 5.8% Carthaginian 3.9% Circuit of the Straits Ibizan 14.4% Greco-Italic 64.4% Local Iberian Total Amphorae 104 288 Fig. 2.27 Location of Baria (López Castro et al. 2011 pl. 1) Fig. 2.28 Imported Amphorae of Late-Third Century from U.E. 40, Baria (after Martínez Hahnmüller 2012) 20% 21.80% Carthaginian Circuit of the Straits Ibizan 14.50% Greco-Italic 18.20% Local Iberian Local Punic 16.40% 9.10% Total Amphorae 55 289 Fig. 2.29 Settlement and Production in the Bay of Cádiz from the Sixth through Third Centuries (Sáez Romero 2010 fig. 2) Fig. 2.30 Evolution of Productive System in the Bay of Cádiz from sixth through first centuries (Sáez Romero 2010 fig. 4) 290 Fig. 2. 31 Stamped Amphorae from Torre Alta (Sáez Romero 2010 fig. 7) Fig. 2.32 Possible Locations of Carthaginian Camps (Chaves Tristán 1990 fig. 1) 291 Fig. 2.33 The “Towers of Hannibal” clustered northeast of the Genil River ( Corzo Sánchez 1975 fig. 1) 292 Chapter 3 Figures Fig. 3.1 Iberian “Peoples” following the Literary Sources of the 6th and 5th centuries and third centuries respectively (Ruiz y Molinos 1993 pp. 141 and 148) Fig. 3.2 Trajan’s Aureus with Hercules-Gaditanus on reverse (British Museum 1864, 1128.269) 293 Fig. 3.3 Minting Communities in Hispania Ulterior (Chaves Tristán 1998 fig. 1) Fig. 3.4 Coins representing Melqart-Herakles wearing Lion Skins in Southern Iberia, Roman period 1: Asido Ae (CNH p. 123 no. 7) 2: Bailo Ae (CNH p. 124 no. 5) 3: Callet Ae (CNH p. 386 no. 1) 4: Carisa Ae (CNH p. 409 no. 6) 5: Carmo Ae (CNH p. 384 no. 14) 6: Carteia Ae (CNH p. 413 no. 6) 7: Iptuci Ae (CNH p. 125 no. 2) 8: Lascuta Ae (CNH p. 126 no. 1) 10: Saiti Ag (DCyP 1.1) 9: Salacia Ae (CNH p. 133 no. 3) 11: Searo Ae (CNH p. 388 no. 1) 12: Sisipo-Detumo Ae (CNH 405 n 5) 1 2 3 4 5 6 294 7 8 9 10 11 12 Fig. 3.5 Melqart in Iberia (Oria Segura 2002 fig. 1) 295 Fig. 3.6 Known and likely tophet sites in Punic communities (Quinn 2013 fig. 2) Fig. 3.7 Coins of Punic Sicily and Early Coinage of Gadir st th st th 1: Solus Ae 1 half of 4 cent. (Calciati 1983 3) 2: Solus Ae 1 half of 4 cent. (M 337.17; J p. 73 no. 18); rd 3: Solus Ae 3 century (J p. 74 no. 23; Calciati 11) 4: Solus Ae (Jenkins 1978 p. 74 no. 21) th rd 5: RSMLQRT Ag Tetradrachm late 4 cent. (J p. 61 no. 1)6: Carthage Ag Tetradrachm early 3 (Jenkins 1978 n. 276) 7: Gadir Ae Half (A 1988 1.1.1 no. 8). 1 2 3 4 296 5 6 7 Fig. 3.8 Hispano-Carthaginian Coinage and other Diademed Males in the Western Mediterranean 1: HC Ag Double Shekel (V II.1.2) 2: HC Ag Shekel (V II.1.3) nd 3: Tyre Ag Shekel 2 cent. (BMC 45 cf) 4: Rome Ag Didrachm 269-266 (RRC 20/1) 5: Libyan Rebels Ag Shekel 241-238 (Yarrow 2011 p. 362) 5: Libyan Rebels Ag Fraction (Y. 2011 p. 362) 1 2 3 4 5 6 297 Fig. 3.9 Finds of Melqart and Prow Shekels, Villaronga Class II (Map after Alfaro Asins 1993 fig. 1) 298 Fig. 3.10 Phoenician Coinage with Warships and Seahorses compared to HC coinage 1: HC Ag Double shekel (V II.1.2) 2: HC Ag Shekel (V II.1.3) th th 3: Sidon Ag Shekel early 4 c. (Betlyon 16; Elayi 2004) 4: Arwad Ag Stater mid 4 c. (Betlyon 26) th th 5: Byblos Ag Shekel early 4 c. (Elayi 2014 793) 6: Arwad Ag Tetrobol early 4 c. (Betlyon 6) th th 7: Tyre Ag Shekel early 5 c. (Elayi 2009 7) 8: Tyre Ag Didrachm mid 4 c. (Betylon 37) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 299 Fig. 3.11 Hispano-Carthaginian Silver Shekels with Herakles-Melqart and Elephant (V. Class III) 1: HC Ag Double Shekel (BM 1911,0702.1; V. III.2 no. 32) 2: HC Ag Triple Shekel (V. II.1 no. 26) 1 2 Fig. 3.12 Finds of Hispano-Carthaginian Class III Coins (Map after Alfaro Asins 1993 fig. 1) 300 Fig. 3.13 Barcid Era Coinage of Gadir and Seks compared to HC coinage (dated Barcid era unless otherwise noted) rd 1: Gadir Ae Single, pre-Barcid (DCyP 1.1) 2: Solus Ae 3 century (Jenkins Part 1 p. 74 no. 23) 3: Gadir Ag Single (DCyP 2.A.10) 4: Gadir Ae Half (DCyP 3.17) 5: HC Ag Triple shekel (V III.1 n. 26) 6: Seks Ae Double (DCyP 1.1, CNH p. 104 no. 2) 7: Seks Ae Quarter (DCyP 1.3; CNH p. 104 no. 4) 8: Gadir Ae Single (A.III.1 n. 488) nd nd 9: Seks Ae Single of 2 cent. (CNH p. 105 no. 9) 10: Gadir Ae Single of 2 cent. (A.VI.A.1 n. 1608) nd 11: Seks Ae Single of 2 cent. (DCyP 4.11) 12: HC Silver Double Shekel (V III.2 no. 32) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 301 11 12 Fig. 3.14 Coins of Arse and Castulo compared to HC coinage 1: Arse Ag drachm 212?-195 (R&L 60) 2: Arse Ag drachm 212?-195 (R&L 65) 3: Saitabi Ag didrachm post 209 (DCyP 1.1) 4: HC Ag shekel (V XI.1.1 no. 131) 5: Castulo Ae half (CNH p. 331 no. 2) 6: Castulo Ae single (CNH p. 331 no. 8) 7: HC Ae (V. VIII.1.2 no. 110b) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 302 Fig. 3.15 Vase figurine of Herakles from Saguntum (Horn 2011 C449). 303 Chapter 4 Figures Fig. 4.5 Material Culture Indicative of Punic Iberia (Ferrer Albelda 1998 fig. 1) Fig. 4.6 Interaction between Indigenous and Baria via Funerary Evidence (Ferrer Albelda & Prados Pérez 2002 fig. 6) 304 Fig. 4.7 Incense Burners in the shape of female heads in the Mediterranean (Marin Ceballos 1987 map 1) Fig. 4 8 Incense Burners in the shape of female heads in Iberia (Marin Ceballos 1987 map 2) 305 Fig. 4.9 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 94-98 (Pliego Vázquez 2003 fig. 2) Fig. 4.10 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 109-119 (Pliego Vázquez 2003 fig. 5) 306 Fig. 4.11 Pre-Barcid Coinage in Iberia of series SNGDan 144-178 (Pliego Vázquez 2003 fig. 8) Fig. 4.12 Visual Dominance of Carmo over Lower Guadalquivir Valley (Keay et al. 2001 fig. 3) 307 Fig. 4.13 Possible Locations of Soldier Colonies based on finds of “Libyphoenician” coinage Fig. 4.14 Possible Locations of Barcid Military Camps (Pliego Vázquez 2003 fig. 10) 308 Fig. 4.15 Location of Vico and Montemolín (Bandera & Ferrer 2002 fig. 1) Fig. 4.16 Funerary Stele of Marchena (Ferrer Albelda 1999 pls. 1 & 2) 309 Fig. 4.17 Plan of Puente Tablas with zones of possible Punic occupation circled (Prados Martínez 2007 fig. 3) Fig. 4.18 Sector C of southern wall showing third-century wall over eroded fourth-century wall (Molinos y Ruiz 2015 fig. 8) 310 Fig. 4.19 Possible Locations of Towers and Forts in the Upper Gaudalquivir Valley; stars indicate fortifications, circles indicate sites of battles from the Second Punic War (Prados Martínez 2007 fig. 1) 311 Fig. 4.20 Main oppida in Contestania (Grau Mira 2005 fig. 2) 312 Fig. 4.21 Sites with finds of “Incense Burners” in the form of female heads ( Sala Sellés y Verdú Parra 2014, fig. 1) Fig. 4.22 Location of Necropolis of Albufereta and Neighboring Settlements (Olcina Doménech 2005 fig. 11) 313 Fig. 4.23 Part of the “tomb of the warrior” from Tossal de les Basses (Rosser & Fuentes 2007 p. 48) Fig. 4.24 Incense Burners from Albufereta Tomb L 127A (Horn 2011 C697, C713, & C731) 314 Fig. 4.25 Ceramic model of Cave Sanctuary from Albufereta L-127A (Horn 2011 C988) Fig. 4.26 Female Bust, of Ibizan Provenance (Horn 2011 C352) 315 Fig. 4.27 Hispano-Carthaginian Bronzes (series V VIII) from Albufereta Necropolis (Verdú Parra 2010 pl. 9) Fig. 4.28 Llobregat’s Drawing of Altar for Incense Burner of Temple B of Illeta dels Banyets (Marín Ceaballos 1987 fig. 3) 316 Fig. 4.29 Incense Burner Recovered from Temple B of Illeta dels Banyets (Horn 2011 C769) Fig. 4.30 Plan of La Serreta; sanctuary marked as A, necropolis as D (Olcina Doménech et al. 1998 fig. 1) 317 Fig. 4.31 Votives from Sanctuary of La Serreta, Juan i Moltó type IX (Juan i Moltó 1987 pl. 8) Fig. 4.32 Select “Incense Burners,” Guardamar Type, from Sanctuary of La Serreta (Horn 2011 C759 & C879) 318 Fig. 4.33 Principle Settlements of Bastetania (López Castro & Adroher Auroux 2008 fig. 1) Fig. 4.34 Louis Siret’s Finds from the cistern and nearby construction on acropolis of Baria (López Castro 2005 fig. 5) 319 Fig. 4.35 Coinage of Baria (Martínez Hahnmüller 2012 figs. 95-97 & pls. 23-25) Fig. 4.36 “The Lady of Galera,” Alabaster statue recovered from Tomb 20 of Tutugi (Wikimedia Commons) 320 Fig. 4.37 Plan for Necropolis of Tutugi (Adroher et al. 2009 fig. 5) 321 Fig. 4.38 Plan of Tomb 20, Tútugi, (Rodríguez-Ariza et al. 2008 fig. 2) Fig. 4.39 Comparison with Chamber Tomb 223 from Baria (Aubet 1986 fig. 6 a & b) 322 Fig. 4.40 Excavations in Iliberri, modern Albaicín (Adroher Auroux 2014 fig. 2) Fig. 4.41 Section of “Punic” Wall of Albaicín, from sector of Carmen de la Muralla (Adroher Auroux 2014 fig. 8) 323 Fig. 4.42 Honorary inscription for Vocania Avita’s gift to the Republic of Tagilit (Resina Sola & Pastor Muñoz 1977, fig. 1) 324