3
Introduction
As seen in the previous chapter, detention or imprisonment was utilized for a variety of reasons that did not normally relate to “crimes” or infractions. This detail is important, since the limited intersection between “crime” and detention in early Mesopotamia could skew the perspective if this broader context is not kept in view. As will be demonstrated throughout this book, the reasons for imprisonment, when stated, point toward the multifunctional nature of the practice. Existing practices that utilized detention can be employed in different contexts for a variety of reasons. This is precisely what is documented in the textual evidence. Detention was used in relation to “crimes” and debt, but more primarily to coerce job performance.
Imprisonment is attested in numerous types of texts from early Mesopotamia, including a law collection, an edict, literary texts, omens, letters, school texts, legal texts, and administrative documents. This impressive scope of attestation provides a lot of information about imprisonment, but the historical nature and function of these documents must be considered alongside the internal evidence of the texts themselves. Literary texts, for example, provide important insight into the ideology of imprisonment as expressed by scribes but must be interrogated alongside other documents in order to understand more accurately the everyday practice. While much of the discussion of the text types will be cursory and interspersed throughout, the law collections of Mesopotamia require consideration here. After providing an overview of the debate surrounding the law collections with particular emphasis on the “Laws of Ḫammurapi,” I will discuss the reasons for imprisonment attested from early Mesopotamia. Although imprisonment does not feature in the “Laws of Ḫammurapi,” the text serves as a fitting test case for understanding law collections since it is the most complete example.1
Law Collections in Ancient Mesopotamia
The oldest known law collections in the history of the world come from ancient Mesopotamia, but their function has been the subject of much debate.2 For instance, proper law codes are referenced to render judgment, but there are not any known appeals to the Mesopotamian law codes to render a particular judgment. The closest example would be the statement “according to the royal decree” (kīma ṣimdat šarrim), which does not appear with further explanation.3 This is not to suggest that judgments were arbitrary, as Sophie Démare-Lafont notes, judges tended to serve with other judges, which would have provided some checks and balances to the process.4 Perhaps the lack of legal citation for precedent in case law is due to accidents of preservation and discovery. Or perhaps more likely the law collections affected the judgment but did not require citation in the preserved record. Precedent almost certainly would have affected judgments on the basis of oral tradition. Nevertheless, the absence of laws being referenced in extant legal decisions in any clear and visible way in the written judicial record remains striking.
Moreover, the extant law collections of early Mesopotamia are not comprehensive enough to touch sufficiently on the broad range of legal issues faced within society. The scope of the law collections can be expanded to some extent when certain laws are taken to be representative of a range of cases through the expectation that various scenarios in between and the appropriate related judgments might be logically deduced. Démare-Lafont has argued that although the law collections do not deal with every situation, the spectrum of laws treated allow principles to be determined from the subjects explicitly discussed.5 For example, with the “Laws of Ḫammurapi,” the issues of runaways treated in §§15–20 covers several scenarios relating to slaves.
“Laws of Ḫammurapi” §§15–20:6
§15
šum-ma a-wi-lum / lu arad2 e2.gal / lu geme2 e2.gal / lu arad2 maš.en.gag / lu geme2 maš.en.gag / ka2.gal uš-te-ṣi2 / id-da-ak
Translation: If a man should enable a slave of the palace or a female slave of the palace or a slave of a muškēnu or the female slave of a muškēnu to leave through the main city-gate, he shall be killed.
§16:
šum-ma a-wi-lum / lu arad2 lu geme2 / ḫal-qa2-am / ša e2.gal / u3 lu maš.en.gag / i-na bi-ti-šu / ir-ta-qi2-ma / a-na ši-si-it / na-gi-ri-im / la uš-te-ṣi2-a-am/ be-el e2 šu-u2 / id-da-ak
Translation: If a man should give refuge to a runaway slave or female slave of the palace or a muškēnu in his house and not bring him out at the cry of the herald, that householder shall be killed.
§17:
šum-ma a-wi-lum / lu arad2 lu geme2 / ḫal-qa2-am / i-na ṣe-ri-im / iṣ-ba-at-ma / a-na be-li2-šu / ir-te-de-a-aš-šu / 2(diš) gin2 ku3.babbar / be-el arad2 / i-na-ad-di-iš-šum
Translation: If a man seizes a runaway slave or a female slave in the steppe and leads him back to his owner, the owner of the slave shall give him two shekels of silver.
§18:
šum-ma arad2 šu-u2 / be-el-šu / la iz-za-kar / a-na e2.gal / i-re-ed-de-šu / wa-ar-ka-su2 / ip-pa-ar-ra-as2-ma / a-na be-li2-šu / u2-ta-ar-ru-šu
Translation: If that slave has not named his owner, he shall lead him to the palace. His circumstances shall be examined, and they shall return him to his owner.
§19:
šum-ma arad2 / šu-a-ti / i-na bi-ti-šu / ik-ta-la-šu / wa-ar-ka arad2 / i-na qa2-ti-šu / it-ta-aṣ-ba-at / a-wi-lum šu-u2 / id-da-ak
Translation: If he should detain that slave in his house, after the slave is found in his possession, that man shall be killed.
§20
šum-ma arad / i-na qa2-at / ṣa-bi-ta-ni-šu / iḫ-ta-li-iq / a-wi-lu-um šu-u2./ a-na be-el arad2 / ni-iš i-lim / i-za-kar-ma / u2-ta-aš-šar
Translation: If the slave that he caught escapes from him, that man shall swear an oath by the god of the owner of the slave, and he shall be released.
These laws regulate property rights and deal with various scenarios involving runaway slaves. As Démare-Lafont argues, on the basis of §§15–20, principles might have been extracted to determine other cases dealing with runaway slaves but with different specifics. For example, the laws deal with runaways in the city and the steppe, and by so doing can be useful for judging cases dealing with other locales. The same can be said of “Laws of Ḫammurapi” §§129–130,7 which deal with issues related to consensual and nonconsensual sex.8 Again, by deciding various polar cases, all judgments in between may be logically determined. Yet even with such expansion, the resultant scope remains rather limited compared to typical law codes.
Finally, the “Laws of Ḫammurapi” belongs to the literary category of monumental inscriptions, examples of which frequently include propaganda that relates to the legacy of the king and not necessarily reflective of everyday life. The “Laws of Ḫammurapi” itself states that a person can read the stele aloud and receive justice. While the historian must not impose modern notions about the proper format for presenting laws, the “Laws of Ḫammurapi” celebrates the king as a fitting executor of justice before the gods, which was a key function of the Mesopotamian king. Through the promotion of his legacy as king, the “Laws of Ḫammurapi” fits with the goals of royal monumental inscriptions in both its presentation and ideology.
This is not to suggest that kings were disconnected from the deciding cases. In fact, kings judged the most important cases, particularly ones that involved capital cases.9 It is known that Ḫammurapi, like other kings, was very involved in the affairs of the kingdom, including making decisions about cases, as will be discussed in Chapter 4. Such judgments were at least sometimes rendered in a manner reflective of law-making. Laws are typically created by blanketing decisions, where specific cases are decided but rendered in a manner that presents a principle. For example, in the “Rescript of Samsu-iluna,” the king hears a case about a particular nadītum, a woman dedicated to the “cloister,” but the judgment is expressed without reference to the woman or her family members; instead, he issues a blanketed judgment.10 This rescript deals with two groups, one private and the other a temple household, competing over wealth and access to labor.
Rescript of Samsu-iluna (ca. 1749–1712 BC):11
Say to Sîn-naṣir, Nuratum, Sîn-Iddinam, the guild of merchants (kārum) of Sippar, the judges of Sippar-Amnānum, Awīl-Nabium, Sîn-iddinam, the priests-šangum, the judges, the temple officials, the officials for the nadītum, and the guards at the gate of the “cloister” of Sippar-Yaḫurum: thus Samsu-iluna (says).…
They told me this, moreover: “The judge Awīl-Sîn has a claim of money owed by Mār-Šamaš, a man from Sippar. Because the latter did not pay it back, he seized Mār-Šamaš, saying: ‘If you keep your property and I receive nothing, I will seize the slave of your daughter the nadītum of Šamaš, who lives in the “cloister”.’ That is what he said.” That is what they told me …
A nadītum of Šamaš whose fathers and brothers have provided her support for her to live and for whom they wrote a tablet, and who lives in the “cloister,” is not responsible for the debts or the ilkum-service of the house of her father and brothers. Her father and brothers shall perform their ilkum-service and…Any creditor who seizes a nadītum of Šamaš for the debts or the ilkum-service of the house of her father and brothers, that man is an enemy of Šamaš.
The rescript involves an attempt by a man to seize the slave of a nadītum because of an outstanding debt owed by her father. The king, Samsu-iluna, determines that the slave of the nadītum is not to be taken, since a nadītum is not responsible for the debts of her father or brothers nor their required ilkum-service, which is often discussed as a form of corvée labor. The case revolves around matters of ownership. When a woman married, her dowry did not belong to her father or brothers anymore.12 This is because the daughter became a member of a different household. As such, the daughter, no longer a member of the household of her father or brothers, could not be seized or have her dowry seized because of the debt of her father or brothers. In like manner, when a woman left her household and joined the “cloister” as a nadītum, she was no longer a member of her family’s household, which freed her from her family’s debt obligations and service should they arise.
What is significant for the discussion here, however, is that it demonstrates that the king chose not to limit the decision to the case before him, opting rather to issue his decision in the form of a principle. The issuing of blanketed decisions and principles is reflective of the ways that laws are created.
In terms of the formation of the law collections, it is possible that the collections contain actual decisions made by the king. Yet even if the laws contained in the “law collections” of Mesopotamia are particular judgments of kings, there remains insufficient evidence to view these laws as normative in their relevant contexts instead of one-off judgments. Further, should one assume that the laws were applied to society, they would remain incapable of providing a full picture of daily life because of their limited scope and concern. With these limitations in view, the law collections provide contemplative windows into the application of justice in early Mesopotamia but do not seem to be law codes in a strict sense.
In this work, the “law collections” will be considered in connection to imprisonment but also alongside attestations of responses to “crime” in documents of practice. While the term “crime” is loaded and not necessarily reflective of the Mesopotamian evidence, the term is used in what follows to avoid unnecessary circumlocution. But the reader should keep the limitations of the concept in mind.
Imprisonment in Edicts and Law Collections
Responses to “crime” were typically retributive or restitutive. Retributive consequences are judgments that bring to bear a particular negative consequence on the offender, such as fines, talionic punishments, “mirror-punishments,” or some other corporal punishment.13 Restitution, however, deals with actions required of the offender to right the wrongs that occurred. Such restitution often included some sort of responsive compensation to the offended or their family or owner but could also involve a fine payable to the authorities. In other words, even if the prison was a mechanism of punishment at times, this was certainly not the normal practice.
There is only one edict and one law collection that require mention here in relation to the prison (e2-eš2). As cited above, the Early Dynastic royal inscription/edict, the “Reforms of UruKAgina,” mentions the prison.14
Reforms of UruKAgina (RIME 1.9.9.1) xii: 12.15
Translation: (These things) he proclaimed. “As for the citizens of Lagaš – the one living in debt, the one who had set up (a false) gur measure, the one who had (fraudulently) filled up the gur measure with barley, the thief, the murderer – he swept the prison clear (of them) and established their freedom. UruKAgina made a binding oral agreement with the god Ninĝirsu that he would never subjugate the orphan (or) widow to the powerful…”
While it is unknown whether the actions discussed in this edict were ever put into practice or whether the text was a literary/monumental creation that never affected actual practice,16 later edicts have been connected to historical practice. These later edicts will be discussed below in relation to debt. This does little, however, to establish the historical nature of the early text. But setting aside the question of establishing reform, based on the broader scope of evidence discussed throughout this book, it seems safe to assume the text, “Reforms of UruKAgina,” reliably attests to multifunctional imprisonment in relation to “crimes” and debt at the very early period, a viewpoint supported in numerous other documents from early Mesopotamia, as seen below.
There is only one judgment in the law collections of early Mesopotamia that involves detention and might occur as a talionic punishment for unjustly detaining someone, but the interpretation is disputed.17
“Laws of Ur-Namma” §318
tukum-bi lu2-u3 šaĝa-˹še3˺ in-ak lu2-bi en-nu-ĝa2 i3-ti-le 1(u) 5(diš) gin2 ku3-babbar i3-la2-e
“If a man keeps someone captive, this man will live in prison (literally: under guard). He will pay fifteen shekels of silver.”
In this text, the person who holds someone captive is imprisoned for an unspecified period of time and is required to compensate the victim with fifteen shekels of silver. As I have argued elsewhere, while it has been assumed that the imprisonment was for the coercion of payment, this is the only example in the “Laws of Ur-Namma” that mentions imprisonment when compensation was due.19 This suggests that there is a restitutive and retributive element to the judgment. Nevertheless, the perspective offered by Lafont and Westbrook that this was coercive detention until payment was made, may be closer to the fact.20 However the text is interpreted, the evidence of imprisonment in law codes is decidedly limited.
Imprisonment, as such, is not well-attested in Mesopotamian law collections, but as these collections are not viewed as comprehensive and likely not normative, the impact of this observation is limited in relation to the question of imprisonment from an historical perspective.
Reasons for Imprisonment
In what follows, I will discuss the various reasons a person could be imprisoned together with the related function when accessible. This demonstrates the multifunctional nature of imprisonment, as individuals were held in relation to debt, work, and a variety of “crimes.”
Imprisonment was utilized as part of the judicial process, as will be discussed in Chapter 4. It should be noted that the diversity of “crimes” listed in relation to imprisonment may, therefore, merely relate to the judicial process and likely does not involve imprisonment as punishment. Nonetheless, imprisonment was utilized as a controlling mechanism in relation to a variety of “crimes” that deserve mention here in order to understand Mesopotamian imprisonment.
As cited above, offenses that led to imprisonment are found in the Early Dynastic text “The Reforms of UruKAgina.” According to the text, people were in prison in relation to debt, false measures, theft, and murder.21 Texts belonging to the Old Akkadian period also deal with individuals living in prisons but without further detail about the causes for this imprisonment.22 Wilcke, however, identifies an Old Akkadian text (RTC 96)23 that mentions people who were accused of flight, theft, arson, and murder. Wilcke states that the text reads like a potential prison roster.24 Wilcke also compares this text with another, RTC 92,25 which deals with the plundering of houses.26 These early texts largely comport with the later evidence that reveals reasons for imprisonment, as will be seen below, which offers some support to Wilcke’s position.
As mentioned above, the “Laws of Ur-Namma” §3, from the Ur III period, contemplates a situation where a person is imprisoned for wrongly detaining someone else.27 While most of the causes behind imprisonment during the Ur III period remain unstated, a few are recorded. Beyond forms of debt and flight, which will be discussed below, stated offenses leading to Ur III imprisonment include false claims (BPOA 1, 786)28 and retaining silver (NATN 32).29
In an Old Babylonian letter, a slave is mentioned “who is being held in jail” (i-na ṣi2-bi-ti-im ka-lu-[u2]) for making an insolent remark against the son of his master (AbB 11, 60).30 This text seems to relate to indefinite holding in prison for an offense, since the author of the letter is writing to her father, asking him to have the slave released and gifted to her. Perhaps, imprisonment was preferred in this instance rather than physical punishment, which could bring financial consequences on the owner since the slave was a valuable commodity. But one can only speculate; the details are lost.
In another Old Babylonian letter (AbB 6, 105), imprisonment is used for the purpose of controlling someone.31 In this instance, the letter writer complains that the recipient of the letter repeatedly throws a person by the name of Alammuš-iddinnam in prison (ṣibittim). Still the letter writer wants Alammuš-iddinnam to be sent to him. Although the context is decidedly limited, likely because the letter writer and recipient had shared knowledge that was unnecessary to record for their purposes, the text relates to the control of labor. Such imprisonment in relation to the control of workers is well-attested, as will be demonstrated below.
Old Babylonian letters also attest to imprisonment in relation to theft. In BM 103129, an owner questions why his lad was imprisoned in relation to a robbery.32
Obverse…
5. aš-šum ṣu-ha-ri-ia ˹ša˺ a-na ḫu-ub-tim
6. ta-aṣ-ba-tu-šu-ma° ta°-pa-du°-šu°-u
7. mi-im-ma ṣu-ḫa-ri°-ia°
8. u2-˹ul˺ iḫ-bu-tu…
Reverse:…
17. mi-nu-um ša ṣu-ḫa-ri pa!(T: GEŠ)-da°-ta
Translation: (5–6) Concerning my lad whom you seized because of a robbery and (subsequently) imprisoned. (7–8) None of my lads committed a robbery.…(17) Why did you imprison my lad?
Another Old Babylonian letter, AbB 2, 83, also deals with captivity in relation to theft.33 In each instance, the function of the imprisonment is unclear, as it could be for holding or for coercing payment.
Theft is also attested in relation to imprisonment at Mari, as seen in the situation with Riš-Šamaš, the brother of the king, who was seized with an axe belonging to Samsi-Addu (Joannès 1985, Mél. Birot 4 [A.1401]).34 This text will be discussed more fully below as it relates to “life on the inside.” It seems likely that the imprisonment related to the judicial process and/or for the purpose of coercing restitution. Imprisoned individuals often had to draw upon the resources of others to make such restitution. This is seen in the text BM 103129, cited above, in which the letter writer was trying to get one of his lads released. Dependence on others is also attested in AbB 2, 83. In this text, the letter writer, who is in prison, requests resources for survival and for bribing guards while also maintaining his innocence.35
To these may be added other offenses from Mari, such as those who were detained in the nepārum for unauthorized travel during wartime (A.2776)36 or detainment because of “simple assault” or threatening behavior (ARM 27, 57).37 For the latter, it should be noted that the detainment resulted from a confrontation with a nomad who was said to have stolen bread and beer, but who had also almost killed a servant of the palace. When confronted, the letter writer claims that the nomad engaged in aggressive behavior, whether understood literally as waving a sword or more figuratively as impertinent speech.38 Either way, the person was detained in the nepārum, as the letter writer sends to Zimri-Lim.
Imprisonment is further documented at Mari in relation to the conveying of people to others. In ARM 26, 77,39 Bali-Addu is to send Šarrum-nūr-matīšu to Asqudum, a diviner. Bali-Addu detains Šarrum-nūr-matīšu until he receives a tablet from the king. At which point, he will send the detainee to the diviner.
It remains likely that the diversity of “crimes” attested in relation to imprisonment simply reflects the judicial process, where persons were held until the case could be determined. If found guilty, the imprisonment only served to hold the offender until the actual punishment was meted out, whether corporal punishment, fines, or restitution. While there might be examples of punitive imprisonment, this was surely not the primary function. Imprisonment as part of the judicial process is clearly attested in the preserved record. This function of imprisonment will be considered more fully in Chapter 4.
Imprisonment in early Mesopotamia was frequently used in relation to debt and in order to force job performance. Imprisonment broadly and lexically conceived occurred in public and private contexts.40 While private imprisonment may not relate to prisons in the modern era, there is certainly lexical and functional overlap in Mesopotamia.41 This relationship between public and private connects to some extent the debtor’s prison to the more commonly attested debt-slavery, which involved holding people to coerce payment and to gain access to the debtor’s labor or the labor of some dependent of the debtor.
According to Salvatore Monaco, the Archaic texts of the late fourth millennium attest to the practice of giving loans,42 but knowledge of the debt agreements is decidedly limited until the Presargonic period (2800–2500 bc). Early evidence dealing with defaulted debtors comes from rulers, such as Enmetena, who claims to have offered debt remission and reunited mothers with their children (Enmetena RIME 1.9.5.1.26: column 5 lines 2–8).43 This suggests that debt resulted in families being separated, a practice well-documented in early Mesopotamia. UruKAgina (RIME 1.9.9.1: xii: 12),44 as mentioned before, claims to have released prisoners, some of whom were debtors, which again would attest to the division of families on the basis of debt.
Workhouses/prisons that were used as places where debtors could be placed to work off their debts are attested for the Old Babylonian period. F. R. Kraus compiled several school-text letters that mention the practice of seizing the distrainees of debtors and putting them in either a prison (ṣibittum) or a workhouse (nupārum).45 One such letter warns that “three of your distrainees” [(3(diš) ni-[pa]-ti-ka)] have been caused to enter into prison and that the recipient should come quickly. The distrainees were seized for cultivating a field without permission. While a form of theft, the discussion of distrainees might indicate that the cultivation resulted in a financial penalty.46
In Old Babylonian Mari, many individuals were detained in a workhouse (nepārum) to fulfill their obligations or work off their debts. Others could be held in personal households or in a house of prisoners (both ṣibittī and asīrī). Imprisonment in workhouses often involved a debt, and those detained were in many instances women and children or some other dependent rather the person of the debtor.
Such obligations placed on families did not have to occur from loans but could be financial obligations resulting from theft. In ARM 10, 160, for example, a woman was confined in a workhouse for Yazraḫ-Addu, who took cakes of salt from a person named Ḫatta and brought them to the palace.47 The common practice of detaining distraints also occurred throughout Mesopotamia in households as well, particularly in relation to debt.48 But in this instance, the woman was held in a more official workhouse.
While some were meant to work off their debts or obligations, letters from Mari also attest to ways prisoners could seek to secure release. For example, prisoners could raise money by selling property. Despite offering to sell everything, including his own person and his wife, one individual, who was attempting to avoid the death penalty, was only able to raise four of the required five minas for his release (ARM 14, 17).49 At Mari and in the “house of prisoners” (bīt asīrī) in Uruk, those who were detained could be moved from the institution and given to another institution or individual.50
Cancelling debt related to the king establishing justice in the land. Various edicts were issued that released citizens from their obligations and debt. Unlike the law collections, Charpin demonstrated that such Old Babylonian edicts were reflective of actual practice. These edicts were often issued by the king at his ascension to the throne but also occurred at other times as well.51 Ḫammurapi, for example, issued such releases at least four times in his reign of forty-three years.52 Charpin further demonstrated that the concept of establishing justice in the land should not be confused with more modern conceptions.53 The justice that is established is about returning to one’s station in life. So the release was directed toward the native populations, whereas slaves, irrespective of their places of birth, were to remain in the household that they were born.54
When a deficit was owed to the administrative bodies by an overseer or some other party, this could result in either the responsible party or members of their household being imprisoned. Much like debt obligations that came through loans, this was likely done so that they could work off the amount owed or in order to coerce payment.
Overseers could also be thrown in prisons for failing to meet certain performance expectations. If they owed money to the administrations, these overseers or their household could be placed in prison, likely to work off the amount they owed.
The Old Akkadian text, CUSAS 11: 265, deals with a dependent, perhaps a slave, who was living in prison because of a deficit owed by another.
CUSAS 11: 26555
Obverse ii: 4. sag ad-da-še3
5. e2-˹eš2˺-ka
6. i3-ti-am6
7. GAR.DU 1(diš) ku3 gin2
8. ur-gu
9. i3-la2
Translation: “…for the person (slave?) of Adda, who is in prison, Ur-gu paid the deficit of one shekel of silver…”
It is possible that this amount was a guaranty. In fact, Giuseppe Visicato and Aage Westenholz, the editors of this text, render the verb i3-la2 as “paid the bail.”56
By the Ur III period, imprisonment in relation to deficits is well-attested. For example, AnOr 7, 181 (Umma; Šu-Suen Year 5; Month x; Day 3; MM 340) records that a fisherman named Undaga owed three shekels of silver and was living in prison.57 In MVN 18, 505 (Umma; Year ?; Month 3; MM 701),58 Umani owed an unstated deficit and was similarly imprisoned. Further, MVN 12, 168 from Girsu (Šulgi Year 46; Month 7) attests to imprisonment because of a deficit. After listing the deficit (la2-ia3-am3) of six individuals, the text states: “Gasaga bound (them) in prison” (en-nu-še3 i3-dab5).59 The days spent in prison were converted into workdays, suggesting that debtors were sometimes imprisoned to work off their debts.60 Imprisonment to coerce job performance also appears in the record in relation to runaways. Imprisonment was also used when people failed to report to those in authority or when they failed to remain on work assignments. When administrative bodies expected official duties to be performed, workers and slaves sometimes ran away from their work assignments. This could result in a stay in prison.
The earliest clear evidence of runaways being held in prison can be found in Old Akkadian texts such as FAOS 19: Gir 25, which deals with the temporary imprisonment perhaps of runaways until the governor arrived.61 One Old Akkadian text, RTC 96,62 referenced above, also includes runaways alongside people accused of other offenses, though it should be kept in mind that the text does not mention a prison and can only be contextually inferred.63
The use of coerced imprisonment, particularly of people who were detained for being runaways, raises questions about the context of this confinement and the means used to ensure prisoners did not leave. As discussed throughout this work, imprisonment was multifunctional and multicontextual in early Mesopotamia. The use of guards, fetters, and nose-ropes are all attested in relation to a form of detainment.64
The more extreme practice of using a nose-rope is mentioned in the Ur III period in a couple of letters, which forbid the practice.
TCS 1, 15865
Obverse:
1. na-ba-sa6
2. u3-na-a-du11
3. geme2 lu2-ddumu-zi-ke4 in-tuku-a
4. ˹eš2˺-ĝiri17-še3
Reverse:
5. na-ba-du3
6. geme2 du11-ga-ni-zi-kam
Translation: Speak to Nabasa: “He shall not attach a nose-rope to the slave girl Lu-dumu-zi married. She is the slave girl of Duganizi.”
TCS 1, 4866
Obverse:
1. ba-zi
2. u3-na-a-du11
3. ur-dnanše dumu-dab5 lu2-dna-ru2-a-ka-ra
Reverse:
4. eš2-ĝiri17-še3
5. na-ba-du3
Translation: Speak to Bazi: “He shall not attach the nose-rope to Ur-Nanše, the DAB5-worker of Lu-Naru’a.”
The eš2-ĝiri17 (nose-rope) was used to retrain workers in order to prevent flight. Since both of these letters forbid the practice of using the nose-rope, the practice might have been used by those working or hiring a slave, for example, to avoid liability if an escape occurred. While there is some ambiguity about whether the text has a literal attachment of the nose-rope in view,67 the use of literal nose-ropes are attested in the Old Akkadian period with the vessel fragment AO 5683 (see Figure 3) and discussed in an Old Babylonian inscription attributed to the Old Akkadian ruler, Narām-Suen.68 While attestations in one period does not necessarily carry over to another period, at the very least these letters attest to measures taken to restrain flight risks.
Most imprisonment for the Ur III periods is described as taking place under guard (ennuĝ). Numerous texts refer to people living in prison for periods as short as a few days or over three years (MVN 21, 91),69 as will be discussed more fully in Chapter 4. Although the term literally refers to people being held “under guard,” it remains uncertain if the ennuĝ was an actual building. References made to the e2 en-nun-ĝa2 “house of the guard” or “prison” (AAICAB 1/1, pl. 63–64, 1924-665 reverse column ii line 20),70 however, suggest that a physical structure was in view at least sometimes.71
As mentioned above, both debt (MVN 18, 505)72 and flight could result in imprisonment during the Ur III period. This is because imprisonment served as a multifunctional mechanism for coercion, whether utilized to force payment, which could also entail work, or to coerce work performance.
The imprisonment of runaways is attested in the following text, for example.
AnOr 7, 286:73
Obverse:
1. 1(diš) šeš-kal-la
2. 1(diš) ur-gešgigir?
3. dumu gešguzza-ni-me
4. 1(diš) lu2-dšara2 dumu lugal-iti-da dumu i3-x-ša-ri2
5. 1(diš) gešguzza-ni dumu dnin-ur4-da SIG7-a
1 line erased
6. 1(diš) lu2-dalamuš bar-˹ra˺ gub-˹ba˺
1 line erased
Reverse:
Seal impression
1. lu2 zaḫ3 dab5-ba [x x]
2. en-nu-ĝa2 ˹ti-la˺
3. iti e2-iti-6(diš) [...] u4 2(u) 1(diš)-am3 [ba-ra]-˹zal˺
4. mu dšu-d[suen lugal]-e na-ru2-a-˹maḫ˺ in-du3
Seal:
1. a-tu dub-sar
2. dumu nigargar-ki-du10
3. gal5-la2-[gal]
Translation: One (full-time worker) Šeškala, One (full-time worker) Ur-Gigir, son(s) of Durgarni, One (full-time worker) Lu-Šara, son of Lugal-itida, son of I-x-Šari, One (full-time worker) Guzzani, son of Nin-Urda, the blind worker. One (full-time worker) Lu-Alamuš, x x. Captured runaways, living in the prison.74 The 21st day of month‚ “e-iti-6” has passed. Year: when Šu-Suen, the king, erected the lofty stela.
Seal
Atu, the scribe, Son of Nigar-kidu, the police chief.75
AnOr 7, 286 mentions six people who are seized runaways living in prison (lu2 zaḫ3 dab5-ba en-nu-ĝa2 ˹ti-la˺).
The way this process of flight and imprisonment unfolded is elaborated on by Dahl, who discusses a potter named Lugal-niĝlagare. Mentioned in MVN 21, 203, he is likely the same person as Niĝlagare found in SAT 3, 1502.76 In SAT 3, 1502, Niĝlagare was receiving rations while in prison (en-nu-ĝa2) for being a runaway potter (baḫar3 zaḫ3) in the year Šu-Suen 4. In another text, SAT 3, 1597,77 from the following year, Šu-Suen 5, Lugal-niĝlagare was included in the crew again, suggesting that potters could be imprisoned for running away and later placed in the same crew after serving prison time.
In a somewhat related example from the same period, a man and his father ran away from lance service (Iraq 6, 185 – ĝeš-gid2-da-ta ba-zaḫ3). These two were included in another text (MVN 18, 557) where they were living in prison the following year.78 These texts show that during the Ur III period running away from various work responsibilities could result in a period of time living under guard. After capture, the example of the captured potter suggests that the runaway could be reinserted into the workforce following a stay in prison.79
The topic of the pursuit, capture, and imprisonment of runaways provides context to understand one of the types of places where imprisonment occurred during the Ur III period. As will be discussed below, the roadhouses or resthouses where messengers stayed were used to hold prisoners. For now, it is worth observing that messenger texts attest to the pursuit, capture, and imprisonment of runaways, revealing further the function of prison in relation to the control of fugitives.
Messenger texts from the Ur III period frequently record individuals receiving rations in order to pursue runaways, though some texts from Irisagrig also deal with those dispatched for the purpose of capturing and even killing bandits (lu2-sa-gaz).80 Those sent on missions to capture runaways hold a variety of positions: nu-banda3 (lieutenant), lu2kin-gi4-a lugal (royal messenger), lu2 kas4 (runner), and lu2 gištukul lugal-ka (royal constable).81 Beyond slaves, the types of individuals pursued typically remain unstated in these texts, except in the examples from Irisagrig,82 which refer to the pursuit of eren2 (a servant of the palace),83 most of whom are also called arad2 e2-gal (slaves of the palace); arad2 dnin-ḫur-sag (slaves of Ninḫursag); or lu2 iri-saĝ-rig (men of Irisagrig). Some texts, however, indicate non-institutional pursuit also occurred where slaves of individuals could be sought and captured.84
When looking at imprisonment in relation to runaway workers, the detainment was a means to control the runaway worker that might have been intended to deter future flight attempts. As I have argued elsewhere, corporal punishment, mutilation, and even death are threatened against runaways, indicating that these extreme measures could also be employed.85 But it is likely that imprisonment with forced job performance was the desirable method, except when examples were made of fugitives who were deemed particularly recalcitrant.
Imprisonment to force production or coerce repayment restricted movement, which allowed administrative bodies or even individual households to exert control. The further restriction of movement through imprisonment might have been intended to serve as a deterrent to future flight risks. As discussed in Chapter 5, imprisonment is often depicted as miserable and dangerous. Yet since imprisonment occurred in a variety of contexts, one cannot determine what it was like in every instance. While imprisonment is presented as good for the criminal in the literary text, “Hymn to Nungal,” it is never presented in the record as a pleasant experience.
Conclusion
Imprisonment is only attested once in the law collections of early Mesopotamia with one further attestation in an earlier royal inscription/edict, the Reforms of UruKAgina. Yet, the extent to which the law codes reflect life in Mesopotamia is questionable, and imprisonment is much better attested in other types of documents.
Responses to “crime” typically involved retribution and restitution. With the potential exception of a couple of anomalous attestations, imprisonment was not punitive in any consistent or significant manner. Imprisonment, however, was commonly used as a means of control in relation to the judicial process and to force payments or job performance. In fact, as discussed in Chapter 2, most detention did not relate to “crime” and was more about debt and labor coercion.
As a means of coercion, imprisonment was adaptable to a number of scenarios. This explains the multifunctional nature of imprisonment in the preserved record. Although these distinctions are important and of great interest for the historian, it does not appear that it was necessary in Mesopotamia to differentiate between state and household imprisonment; nor imprisonment in relation to debt or in relation to a “crime.” All of these scenarios were served by a common mechanism of detaining the body in order to produce the desired result of the controlling entity. This is not to suggest that there were not limitations to private imprisonment or that all examples can be flattened. As will be demonstrated in Chapter 4, the king served the highest judicial function beneath the gods themselves. As such, the right to punish belonged ultimately to the king. In order to elucidate further imprisonment at the dawn of history, I will now consider the prison in relation to the judicial process.
Prisons in Ancient Mesopotamia: Confinement and Control until the First Fall of Babylon. J. Nicholas Reid, Oxford University Press. © J. Nicholas Reid 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192849618.003.0004
1 See similar decision and discussion in Charpin 2010b: 71, who also notes the monumental function of the text.
2 See a summary of the debate in Reid 2017a: 9 n. 3. See Haase 1965: 22ff.; Finkelstein 1961; and more recently Charpin 2004: 50–51. Note too Edzard (1974), in particular, who raised the question of reality versus the literary for these social reforms. See further S. Lafont 1994: 91–118. For a synchronic perspective, see Westbrook 2003a: 1–90.
3 Veenhof 1997–2000.
4 Démare-Lafont 2011: 352.
5 In the Fall of 2013, Démare-Lafont gave a seminar at All Souls, University of Oxford on this subject (Démare-Lafont 2013).
6 Cited after Roth 1997: 84–85 with minor variation.
7 See edition in Roth 1997: 105–6.
8 Démare-Lafont 2013.
9 See note to CUSAS 35: 7 (Bartash 2017: 73) for a capital case in relation to the ensi2. See further discussion of capital cases in Chapter 4.
10 See discussion in Charpin 2012: 156–57.
11 Cited after Charpin 2010b: 73–74.
12 See discussion of dowries in Stol 2016.
13 On mirror-punishments and fines that are used as punishments for Old Babylonian Mari, see Charpin 2015: 173–92. Talionic punishments and mirror-punishments are subsets of “crime-specific” punishment, which is when the punishment relates to the “crime” in terms of context, implement, damage (such as eye for an eye), or punishment that connects to the “crime” itself in some way.
14 See Steinkeller (1991) dealing with the Reforms of UruKAgina and early terminology for “prison” (e2-eš2). See Reid 2016: 87 n. 23. See discussion of e2-eš2 in Chapter 2.
15 Cited after Frayne 1998: 264–65. See discussion in Chapter 2.
16 Previous scholarship accepted the claims of the text, but scholars more recently question its function. See discussions in Wilcke 2007a: 24; Hruška 1973: 4–13; 104–32, see particularly p. 5; Edzard 1974: 148–49 and n. 17.
17 See discussion and related textual information in Reid: 2016: 96–97.
18 Civil 2011: 246 and Wilcke 2014: 535. See also edition in Roth 1997: 17. On šaĝa, see Steinkeller 2013a.
19 Reid 2016: 96–97; Reid 2015: 595.
20 Lafont and Westbrook 2003: 221. See similar interpretation in Neumann and Paulus 2011: 201 and Westbrook 2003a: 75 no. 54.
21 See discussion in Steinkeller 1991: 227–33.
22 Note ITT 1, 1287, 1379, 1418. See CUSAS 11: 265, discussed below, that deals with a deficit. Each of these texts deals with the e2-eš2.
23 Thureau-Dangin 1903.
24 Wilcke 2007a: 117–18 n. 385.
25 Thureau-Dangin 1903.
26 Wilcke 2007a: 117–18 n. 385.
27 See discussion in Civil 2011: 253–54; Lafont and Wesbrook 2003: 221.
28 Ozaki and Sigrist 2006.
29 Owen 1982.
30 AbB 11, 60 (Stol 1986: 34–35) = AbPh 39-40, no. 30 (Ungnad 1920); Oppenheim 1967: 93 n. 30.
31 See edition in Frankena 1974: 66–67. See handcopy in Schroeder 1917: 43 (text 105).
32 A full edition of the text is forthcoming by J. N. Reid and Klaus Wagensonner.
33 Frankena 1966: 50–53. See also AbB 2, 121 (Frankena 1966: 82–83) = CT 29, pl. 2 (King 1910), which states that a person shall be caused to enter into prison for taking another’s tool. See too discussion of CUSAS 36: 61 (George 2018) below, which also deals with robbers.
34 Joannès 1985: 102–3.
35 This text will be cited and discussed more fully in Chapter 5.
36 See Charpin and Durand 1997: 383–34. Lines 10–22: “(10–11) Installe des patrouilleurs. Prendre et faire entrer à l’ergastule (12–14) messagers qui circuleraient sans demander (l’autorisation) (15–17) ou marchands qui circuleraient sans demander (l’autorisation)! (21) Il est vraisemblable qu’ils vont se plaindre bruyamment: (22) On doit (quand même) s’en emparer!” See recent partial translation in Sasson 2015: 225.
37 Jack Sasson classifies it as: “Aggressive personalities.” Sasson 2015: 225. See Birot 1993.
38 Durand understands the threatening behavior figuratively, while Sasson translates it more literally. See Durand 1998: 388, and Sasson 2015: 225.
39 Durand 1988. See recent translation in Sasson 2015: 226 4.5.c.iii.
40 On the problems of using terminology such as “private,” see Steinkeller 2004: 91–111; Garfinkle 2004: 1–30; and Garfinkle 2012: 18–27.
41 For detainment in “guest quarters,” see ARM 2, 72: 36. See CAD K: (kalû): 97: “u bāb napṭarišu ik-ta-lu-šu they kept him under arrest in the guest quarters” (line 36). See transliteration and translation in Jean 1950.
42 See Monaco 2012: 178. This matter remains to be decided fully in scholarship.
43 See the edition and bibliography provided in Frayne 1998: 194–99.
44 See full edition and accompanying bibliography in Frayne 1998: 248–65.
45 See Kraus 1959–1962: 25–29. Note BM 80448 = CT 6 32, Pinches 1898. For transliteration and translation, see Kraus 1959–1962: 27–28. See also, the Old Babylonian texts, AbB 14, 128 (Veenhof 2005: 118–19); Kraus 1959–1962: 27 text p.
46 See discussion above. Note the edition in Kupper 1959: 178 (RA 53: 178).
47 Dossin and Finet 1978. See too Durand 2000 no. 1180 (LAPO 18) and Sasson 2015: 224 4.5.b.i.
48 On debt slavery in the ancient Near East, see Chirichigno 1993. More particularly, see Garfinkle 2004: 1–30. Cf. Steinkeller 2002.
49 Birot 1974 and Durand 1998 no. 829 (LAPO 17).
50 For Mari, see discussion in Sasson 1977: 109–11, where a person is moved to a palace roster. For the bīt asīrī, Seri recounts such movement with an individual by the name of Warad-Ištar, who was initially working with the retinue of Etel-pî-Šamaš. Later, he was moved to be utilized in the house of the weavers. Then Warad-Ištar was given as a gift to Ibanni-ilum, the shepherd (UF 10, 39) (Seri 2013: 124). See Loretz 1978 for an edition of text. Rositani further demonstrates the variety of ways in which prisoners of war were released from the bīt asīrī (Rositani 2018: 59–61).
51 Charpin 1990a: 13–24; Charpin 2010b: 83–96.
52 See discussion in Charpin 2010b: 93.
53 On the legal implementation of the edicts, see Charpin 1990a: 13–24 and more recently Charpin 2010b: 83–96, who used legal texts to demonstrate that the edicts were enforced. On the exclusion of houseborn slaves, see Kraus 1984: 280–84. The key term andurārum has been explained by Charpin 1990a as retour à l’origine. Viewing the edicts as returning people to original status explains the exclusion of certain people, such as houseborn slaves, from the release. Their original status as slaves prevents them from partaking more fully in such releases. See also Stol 2004: 865–67. For Mari, see also Charpin 1990b: 253–70. See the helpful summary provided by Hallo 1995: 88–89, who also provides further lexical evidence to supplement the discussion in Kraus.
54 See Reid 2017a.
55 Visicato and Westenholz 2010.
56 Visicato and Westenholz 2010, text 265. See discussion of this text in Reid 2016: 90–91 and in Chapter 2.
57 See editions by Schneider 1932 and Molina 1993 (MVN 18, 181).
58 See handcopy by Molina 1993.
59 Gomi 1982. See too Reid 2016: 92–93.
60 See discussion in Wilcke 2007b: 109–11. In order for debts to be repaid by those imprisoned, either someone else had to pay the debt; work was deemed compensatory and as such the partial goal of lending; or the rations given were enough above subsistence that the creditor could receive some left over. However, as discussed below, at least some of the prisoners were provided for in the Ur III period at a level that is deemed below basic subsistence.
61 On the imprisonment of runaways in this period and an interpretation and translation of this text, see Wilcke 2007a: 177–78: 9.2.1.b. The reference to the prison is written e2-ŠE3-ka. ŠE3 can be read as either eš2 or zid2. Compare editions of this text in LEM 69 (Michalowski 1993: 50), who reads the text as e2-eš2-ka, in the prison, with FAOS 19: Gir 25 (Kienast and Volk 1995: 100–102), who read it as e2-zid2-ka, as a “flourhouse.” See related bibliography to this text in Kienast and Volk 1995: 100–102 and in Wilcke 2007a: 177–78: 9.2.1.b. Compare this temporary imprisonment until the arrival of another with HSS 10, 10 (e2 (bīt) ki-še3-er-tim), handcopy in Meek 1935: Plate 4. See transliteration and translation of HSS 10, 10 in LEM 37 (Michalowski 1993: 35–36) and brief discussion in Chapter 2.
62 Thureau-Dangin 1903.
63 See Wilcke 2007a: 117–18 no. 385.
64 On the use of fetters, see discussion in Chapter 3.
65 See Sollberger 1966. See also editions in LEM 129 (Michalowski 1993) and in particular Molina and Such-Gutiérrez 2004: 9.
66 See editions in Sollberger 1966 and in Molina and Such-Gutiérrez 2004: 9.
67 See discussion in Molina and Such-Gutiérrez 2004: 9 and more recently Reid 2015: 592–93.
68 RIME 2.1.4.3 lines iv: 33–v: 4: (Cited after Frayne 1993: 97): iv: 33: na-ra-am-den.zu / da-num2 / in si2-ip-ri2 / dinanna / i3-nu / den.lil2 / di.ku5-su2 / i-di3-nu-ma / u3 // v.1: ṣe2-ra-at / ni.si11 / qa2-ti-is2-su / i-di3-nu
Translation: Narām-Suen, the mighty, on a mission for Ištar, when Enlil gave this judgement for him and entrusted the nose-rope of the people into his hands…
This Old Babylonian copy details Narām-Suen’s right to rule by stating that he received the nose-rope of the people. On the basis of its later composition, the text may be a literary invention. The use of the term nose-rope in later inscriptions attributed to earlier rulers could be the result of Old Babylonian scribes seeing the imagery in the artwork from the Old Akkadian period and using that imagery as inspiration for a literary invention to describe Narām-Suen’s divine right to rule. It should be noted that these images deal with prisoners of war and not actual slaves. For other discussions relating to the nose-rope in ancient art, see Hansen 2002: 101 (figures 1–3) and for the Assyrian evidence, see Ornan 2007: 59–72.
69 See Koslova 2000 and Reid 2016: 103.
70 Grégoire 1996.
71 For related terms using the Sumerian e2 or the Akkadian equivalent bīt, see Steinkeller 1991.
72 Molina 1993 and Reid 2016: 92.
73 This tablet dates to Šū-Suen year 6, month 8, day 21. See handcopy by Schneider 1932 (AnOr 7, 286) and Molina 1993 (MVN 18, 286). See also edition of this text in Reid 2015: 594–95. TJA pl. 57 (IOS 40) states that two runaways “indeed live in prison both of them” [2(diš)-a-bi ḫe2-til3]. See LEM 73 (Michalowski 1993). Reid 2015: 595 n. 47. Another text, Syracuse 259 (see handcopy by Sigrist 1983), also deals with runaways living in prison.
74 See discussion of the terminology in Civil 1993: 75, and cited above.
75 See also the list conveniently compiled by Steinkeller 1991: 230 n. 15 that includes the texts YOS 4, 183, 192 (Keiser 1919); MVN 14, 330, 362, 475, 482 (Yidiz, Waetzoldt, and Renner 1988). See also Syracuse 259 (Sigrist 1983). TJA pl. 57 (IOS 40) states that two runaways “indeed live in prison both of them” (2(diš)-a-bi ḫe2-til3)—see edition in Szlechter 1963. Compare Daniel Snell’s translation and interpretation of “a second time let the guard take them,” Snell 2001: 50, 169–70. On Niĝar-kidu and chief of the galla, or “police chief,” see Dahl 2007: 47–48.
76 For a copy of MVN 21, 203, see Koslova 2000. For SAT 3, 1502, see the copy by Sigrist 2000. On both these texts, see Dahl 2010: 286 n. 34, and the discussion in Reid 2015: 596–97.
77 See Sigrist 2000; Dahl 2010: 286; Reid 2015: 596–97.
78 For Iraq 6, 185, see transliteration and comments in Fish 1939: 184–86. This text is treated by Englund 1990: 160–62. For a copy of MVN 18, 557, see Molina 1993.
79 Note too CUSAS 39: 205, which deals with what might be a runaway slave girl who is in prison. The text includes the suggestion that this slave girl should be given to the king. See Dahl 2020: 279.
80 See discussion of a number of these texts in Owen 2013: vol. 1, 123–25.
81 See discussion in Reid 2015: 582ff.
82 For fugitive catchers who are called royal messengers, see for example, Nisaba 15, 34: 4–5; Nisaba 15, 39: 25–26; Nisaba 15, 40: 15–16; etc. (Owen 2013).
83 See Reid 2017b: 153 and no. 2.
84 See, for example, Festschrift Sigrist 127–28, 1 (Molina 2008) and “Code of Ur-Namma” (§16 Civil 2011 = §17 Roth 1997). In general, flight in the Old Babylonian period did not usually result in time spent in prison as it did in the Ur III period, but the closest related evidence to the practice is found in texts dealing with the bīt asīrī. For flight and the related consequences during the Ur III period, see Reid 2015. For a comparative study of flight for the entire early Mesopotamian period, see Reid 2014. See the above discussion of flight in the Old Babylonian period in the section bīt asīrī of Chapter 2.
85 Reid 2015: 589ff.