M
. The Sphut. acandrāpti (Computation of True Moon)
Mādhava of Sangamagrāma
R. C. G UPTA
During the Muslim rule in north India, there was a
decline in Hindu culture. This adversely affected the
creative spirit in indigenous art, literature, and science.
Southern India was comparatively less affected, and
traditional culture and the sciences flourished there.
The followers of Āryabhat.a I made enormous con-
tributions to the development of mathematical sciences.
It was a golden age of Indian mathematics.
.
Mādhava of Sangamagrāma, who flourished about
AD 1400, was the first great astronomer and mathema-
tician of the Late Āryabhat.a school, which he in fact
.
founded. Sangamagrāma has been identified as the
modern Irinjalakkuda, a town near Cochin in Kerala
State. Mādhava belonged to the Emprantiri subcaste
group of Kerala Brahmins. We have no knowledge
about his parents and teachers, or of the exact dates
of his birth and death. Various dates ranging from
AD 1336 to 1418 are used in his works. Hence the
period of activity of his life has been roughly fixed
from AD 1340 to 1425.
There is no doubt that Mādhava was an extraordi-
narily brilliant man. He used his talent and sharp
intelligence to acquire knowledge by private study, and
could thus overcome the difficulty of finding a good
Guru because of his inferior status in the dominant
Namputiri Brahminic community. He was a self-taught
genius and not a gifted pupil. He was generally referred
to as Golavid (Master of Spherics) by subsequent
.
scholars and followers of his School, such as Nīlakant.a
Somayāji (AD 1444–1545) and Acyuta Pis.ārat.i
(AD 1550–1621).
Mādhava wrote all his works in Sanskrit, the
classical language of India. One of his earliest works
is the Candra-Vākyāni (Moon Sentences). This was
composed as a revision of Kerala’s ancient traditional
astronomical work attributed to Vararuci, who lived
1,000 years earlier. The Candra-Vākyāni gives 248
mnemonic phrases regarding the longitudinal position
of the moon for each of the 248 days which comprise a
period of nine anomalistic months.
contains 51 verses and is a work of the Karan.a category.
A Karan.a is a handbook on practical astronomy. In this
one, he provides an ingenious method for finding the
true position of the moon.
Mādhava’s Ven.vāaroha (Bamboo Climbing) is an
elaboration of his Sphut. acandrāpti and consists of 74
verses. In this work the author created a facile
procedure to find the true lunar positions at intervals
of about half an hour. It is dated as AD 1403, and is the
most popular astronomical work of Mādhava. Acyuta
Pis.ārat.i wrote a Malayalam commentary on it.
A recently identified astronomical work of Mādhava
is Agan.ita-grahacāra. It is an extensive work on
planetary computations using somewhat novel meth-
odologies. It is a treatise of the Karan.a category and
must have been composed just after AD 1418 which is
the latest date mentioned.
Among other unpublished works of Mādhava there
are two short astronomical tracts. One is the Madhya-
mānayanaprakāra (Method for Computing Mean
Positions) which is extant in a unique manuscript at
the India Office Library. The other is Lagnaprakaran.a,
of which at least three manuscripts exist in South India.
This work deals with computations of ascendents.
It is possible that Mādhava composed a work on
Golavāda (Spherics) which earned him the appellation
Golavid. But the reported manuscript from a private
collection has been eaten by white ants. Mādhava was
also the author of a number of stray or free verses which
have been cited by later authors and commentators.
Scientific Contributions
The traditional “moon sentences” of Vararuci (fourth
century), used in Kerala, gave daily longitudes of the
moon only up to minutes of the arc or angle. Mādhava
computed more sophisticated moon sentences which
expressed the longitudes correctly up to seconds. By
making use of the popular system of alphabetic
numerals, called the Kat. apayādi Nyāya, these mne-
monic phrases were made short and aphoristic.
Mādhava also provided a value of π using a system
.
of word numerals (bhūta-samkhyās).
The knowledge of an accurate value of π enabled
Mādhava to obtain a better value of the traditional
1246 Magic and science
Sinus Totus (Total Sine, or radius). Mādhava’s sine
table is quite precise and accurate. He may have used
traditional methods for getting the table or the newly
discovered power-series expanion of sine (see below).
For computing sine for the argument intermediary
between any two tabulated angles, he knew a formula
which is equivalent to the modern Taylor series
approximation up to the second order. Higher inter-
polation based on second order finite differences had
been known in India since the time of Brahmagupta
(seventh century AD).
For computing π to any desired degree of accuracy,
Mādhava discovered a number of series including the
one =4 ¼ 1
1=3 þ 1=5
1=7:::; often called the
Leibniz series after the German mathematician G.W.
Leibniz.
Another formula perhaps known to Mādhava is now
called the Gregory Series, after the Scottish mathema-
tician James Gregory (1638–1675). The Indian proof is
found in the Yuktibhās.ā (AD sixteenth century) and
other works.
One of Mādhava’s major achievements was the
discovery of the power-series expansions of sine and
cosine, and which are equivalent to
3 5 7
x x x
sin x ¼ x
þ
þ :::;
3! 5! 7!
x2 x4 x6
cos x ¼ 1
þ
þ :::;
2! 4! 6!
The two Sanskrit verses which embody the method of
computing sine based on power-series up to x11 are
quoted by Nīlakan.t.ha in his commentary on the
Āryabhat. īya (II, 17b).
In this connection it is relevant to discuss a small
tract called Mahājyānayana-prakāra (Method for
the Computation of the Great Sines). It gives the
power-series methods for computing Mahājyās (Great
Sines). Unfortunately there is no mention of an author’s
name in it, although Mādhava’s rule for computing
sines up to x11 is mentioned. Sarma attributed the tract
to Mādhava, but Gold and Pingree consider it to be the
work of his follower(s). Perhaps Mādhava explained
his theory during lectures to his pupils, whose lecture
notes may be the basis of the above tract.
References
Primary Sources
Candra-Vākyāni. Ed. K. V. Sarma as the Appendix to His
Edition of Sphut. acandrāpti as well as of Ven.vāroha (see
below).
Mahājyānayana-prakāra ed. and Trans. D. Gold and
D. Pingree. Historia Scientiarum 42 (1991): 49–65.
Sphut. acandrāpti. Ed. K. V. Sarma. Hoshiarpur: Vishveshvar-
anand Institute, 1973.
Ven.vāroha. Ed. K. V. Sarma, with a Malayalam Commentary
of Acyuta Pis.ārat.i. Tripunithura: Sanskrit College, 1956.
Secondary Sources
Gupta, R. C. Mādhava’s Power Series Computation of the
Sine. Gan.ita 27 (1976): 19–24.
---. South Indian Achievements in Medieval Mathematics.
Gan.ita Bhāratī 9 (1987): 15–40.
---. The Mādhava-Gregory Series for tan–1 x. Indian Journal
of Mathematics Education 11.3 (1991): 107–10.
---. On the Remainder Term in the Mādhava-Leibniz’s series.
Gan.ita Bāhrātī 14 (1992): 68–71.
Hayashi, T., et al. The Correction of the Mādhava Series
for the Circumference of a Circle. Centaurus 33 (1990):
149–74.
Pingree, D. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit. Series A,
Vol. 4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1981.
Sarma, K. V. Date of Mādhava, a Little-known Indian
Astronomer. Quarterly Journal of the Mythic Society 49.3
(1958): 183–6.
---. A History of the Kerala School of Hindu Astronomy.
Hoshiarpur: Vishveshvaranand Institute, 1972.
Magic and Science
K AREN L OUISE J OLLY
The concepts “magic” and “science” are products of
Euro-American history; thus their use in other regions
of the globe, from the colonial era to modern
anthropological studies, is intertwined with Western
intellectual history. Consequently, understanding the
meaning of, and relationship between, magic and
science in the context of western notions of rationality
is essential when examining phenomena in non-
Western societies placed in these categories. Magic
and science are, in essence, labels used to exclude
and include according to an intellectual value system
rooted in European history. They are part of the cultural
baggage taken abroad by Euro-American travelers, and
used to identify “otherness” in foreign cultures. In non-
Western cultures, similar practices of “magic” were not
necessarily excluded or marginalized by the growth of
science as they were in the West.
The European evolution of these two words from the
classical (Greco-Roman) era to the twentieth century
shows a growing gap between magic as occult or
hidden knowledge on the one hand, and science and
religion as public knowledge on the other. Increasingly
in the European intellectual tradition, science was
defined in narrower ways while pushing magic out
of the realm of knowledge. This contributed to an
evolutionary paradigm applied by Westerners to non-
Western societies, of progress from magic to religion to
science, a model now called into question by modern
anthropologists. Because of this conceptual evolution
in the intellectual history of Europe, “magic” and
“science” can be used in a number of senses in modern

English usage (see the Oxford English Dictionary). The
gradual transformation of the word science as a
distinctive rationality valued above and against magic
is part of a uniquely European duality not generally
found in non-Western societies, where magic can exist
side-by-side with science and religion.
History of the Terms in the Western Intellectual
Tradition
European intellectual history is full of self-imposed
oppositions: temporal–spiritual, natural–supernatural,
pagan–Christian, devil–God, magic–religion, and
magic–science. All of these are subject to a moral scale
of Good versus Evil, a distinction in Western thought
that has its roots in the Judeo–Christian monotheistic
system positing a single, omnipotent, all-good Deity.
This way of thinking is very different from, for example,
the Chinese world view embodied in Yin and Yang,
opposites that create balance (positive–negative, active–
passive forces) without the identification of Evil versus
Good. Thus, the Western dualities are not, as some
westerners visiting other cultures have assumed, uni-
versals found in all cultures; rather, they are a particular
product of the belief systems and intellectual history
of Europe.
Nonetheless, despite these polar oppositions in
European thought, changes in definitions over time
caused overlaps and gray areas. Thus magic, as the
opposite of religion or science, has a history that
complicates the way the word is used at different times
and places by different classes of people. The self-
defined shape of European history is one of progress
from magic to religion to science: from root definitions
in classical culture (Greco-Roman), through the medie-
val magical and religious mentality, through major
religious and intellectual changes (renaissances) in the
medieval and early modern world, to the development
of science as a separate discipline in the modern world.
At the same time, this chronological picture is muddied
by the slippery definition of magic as it changes in
relation to the growth of religion and science. Through-
out the development of these distinctions, from the
fourteenth through the nineteenth and twentieth cen-
turies, Europeans and Americans went abroad and
applied these differing notions to the peoples they met.
The root meaning of magic contains a sense of
exclusion found throughout the history of the term: in
the Roman world, the Latin magia, derived from magi
(Persian astrologers like the Magi of the Christmas
story), implied a foreigner, even when the practitioner
was a Roman. This was someone who possessed secret
and powerful knowledge both feared and respected,
displayed in the ability to manipulate unseen or
spiritual agencies, in such arts as divination, astrology,
curses, oracles, and amulets to ward off evil (Luck
Magic and science 1247
1985). Thus the word magic has at its root a sense of
marginality in its otherness and its paranormal,
unknown, and supernatural associations, but also a
strong sense of power held exclusively and secretly by
the magus. The root word for science, on the other
hand, is more normative: scientia includes knowledge,
art, or skill. It derives from the Greek heritage a strong
sense of human rationality, but comes to include
divinely revealed knowledge as well in the Christian
era (from ca. 200).
In the progress model, the magic of the European past
is associated with the medieval period (ca. 500–1350),
in contrast to the rationality of the Renaissance
(fourteenth and fifteenth centuries) and Enlightenment
(eighteenth century) intellectual revolutions. “Medie-
val” thinking has earned the label “magic” from later
generations on several grounds. The medieval other-
worldly emphasis and reliance on divine revelation led
to a lack of distinction between natural and supernatu-
ral and contributed to an allegorical way of thinking
about nature, so that objects such as a flower and events
such as storms or illnesses were read as divine
messages. Medieval thinking rested on a belief in a
wonder-working, ever-present God and also a magic-
working evil presence in the devil; sometimes the
miracles of God’s saints and the tricks of the devil
appear similar in method in the eyes of later thinkers
(Flint 1991; Thomas 1971). Specifically, the belief in
supernatural powers in words is found in both
M
Germanic animism (worship of nature spirits) and the
Christian tradition: in Germanic animism charms (ritual
words and actions) invoke the inherent virtues of a
plant. In the Christian Eucharist, bread and wine are
changed into flesh and blood through prayer. The two
were joined in Christianized folk medicine in the
production of charms using Christian prayers as the
powerful words (Jolly in Neusner et al. 1989). To
Protestants (after the sixteenth century) and anthro-
pologists (late nineteenth century), these practices are
all magical in their manipulation of nature through
word-magic (as opposed to true religious prayer as
supplicatory). Yet to the medieval mind, magic was
defined by who – God or the Devil – not by how –
supplication versus manipulation. Thus medieval
thinking was rejected as backward by later rationalists
and was used to describe cultures that had not advanced
out of magical or superstitious thinking.
Religion, in the history of European “progress,”
moves away from magical thinking and opens the door
for rationalism. The tradition of logic and deductive
reasoning dates back to the Greeks and partially
survived into the Middle Ages through Roman-
Christian church leaders and thinkers; the recovery of
Aristotle through Arab sources in the twelfth century
helped spur a renaissance in learning among medieval
scholars so that human reason was placed alongside
1248 Magic and science
divine revelation as a way of knowing truth. This
interest in the potential of human reason to understand
things in conjunction with divinely revealed knowl-
edge cleared a space for reason to function indepen-
dently over the succeeding centuries. The separation of
natural from supernatural, and reason from revelation,
allowed thinkers to focus on the human study of natural
phenomena. Magic in this context became things not in
the category of the divine (miracles) and not subject
to human reason either: black magic associated with
the devil and witches, such as curses and evil spells,
or the low magic of ignorant persons based on false
reasoning, such as herbal charms and love potions.
High, white magic was associated with the intelligent-
sia of the high Middle Ages and Renaissance (twelfth
through fifteenth centuries). These early scientists
dabbled in the occult, a gray area in between divine
knowledge and human reason: occult phenomena were
insensible (not subject to human sense perception),
such as magnetism, gravity, or the pull of the stars, but
might be intelligible (something to be reasoned about);
these occult phenomena, classified as “natural magic,”
became the sciences of astrology, astral medicine, and
alchemy, for example.
In the Scientific Revolution, science became a
separate, and increasingly higher, discipline from
religion; it came to mean exclusively the human
(versus divine) study of natural (versus supernatural)
phenomena. This secularization of knowledge was the
product of the Italian Renaissance of the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries and the Enlightenment of the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Simultaneously,
Protestant ethical values contributed to this process a
utilitarian view of the created order that effectively
circumscribed religion into a rational system: God
made the world to work by certain laws that humans
could understand and systematize (Tambiah 1990).
Human study could produce a true understanding of
reality independent of divine insight. Magic was now
clearly marked as something not rational: it could
be proven to be a hoax (prestidigitation or sleight-
of-hand), and was relegated to the entertainment
industry where it could be enjoyed as an illusion, a
deception that could be scientifically explained. As
science became the religion of the modern west, magic
was being exorcised from modern consciousness not
as demonic but as irrational and backward.
This simple pattern of progress from magic to
religion to science is misleading in two ways: it is
anachronistic in applying later definitions of magic
back on to earlier periods where the word had different
meanings, and it does not take into account the overlaps
and continuities whereby magic survives alongside
religion and well into science. For example, the
Scientific Revolution is compromised by intellectual
dabbling in the occult: the great shift from a geocentric
worldview (earth at the center) to heliocentric (sun at
the center) was founded not just on forward-looking
developments in mathematics and astronomy but
was motivated by a backward-looking interest in a
supposedly Egyptian magical tradition, Hermeticism
(Tambiah 1990). Differences of class in relation to
conceptions of magic further complicate this picture of
Euro-American intellectual history: the older ways of
folk belief, in medicine for example, as a viable, not
magical, method of manipulating nature or spiritual
agencies was retained among many classes long after
the religious authorities or the intellectual elite had
dispensed with it, and in some cases had begun
investigating it as witchcraft (antireligion) or fraud
(unscientific). All of these divergent attitudes toward
magic were carried abroad by Europeans and Amer-
icans: magic as demonic, evil, and fearful; magic as
medieval or backward; magic as unscientific, irrational,
or uncivilized; but always as something “other.”
Modern ethnography, the study of cultures, is a
product of this western history and its intellectual
legacy of magic versus religion or science. The earliest
ethnographers were explorers and missionaries, some
of whom made an effort to observe and document
these “new” peoples. The paradigm of progress some
missionaries used in meeting nonurban, preliterate
peoples was to categorize them as children needing to
be fostered into adulthood; other colonizers used a
model to exploit the “Indians” as subhuman slaves. For
the missionaries, conversion was one step in the
maturing process necessary for the native peoples to
reach the “level” of civilization mastered by the
Europeans.
Modern anthropology attempted to break with the
religiously biased view of these missionaries and take
an objective observer stance which was, none the less,
still colored by an evolutionary model of progress from
magic to religion to science (Herbert 1991). This model
is clearly evident in the works of early nineteenth-
century founders Edward Tylor and Sir James Frazer
and into the twentieth century in Jacob Bronowski
and Bronislaw Malinowski (Tambiah 1990). The
anthropological definition focused on magic as unsci-
entific manipulations of nature or supernatural forces
and classified it according to its false premises
(imitative magic, contagious magic, sympathetic
magic). These notions of magic were assumed as a
universally valid construct applicable cross culturally.
Consequently, observed peoples were placed into the
spectrum of development from magic to science. This
model is the subject of debate in late twentieth-century
anthropological scholarship, by such authors as Francis
Hsu and Stanley Tambiah, who question whether
the European concept of magic can be used accurately
to classify a set of phenomena in a non-European
culture.

Indigenous Views in Non-Western Societies
In Western thought, then, magic has become something
marginal, separate from or opposite to a mainstream
tradition of religion or science. Non-Western practices
of magic seen in their own cultural context are not the
opposite of religion or science, but are complementary
to their political, social, religious orders; magic is not
the “other” in their worldview, but is part of the norm.
Magical practices in non-Western societies can func-
tion as part of their cultural identity, alongside scientific
development or as a subgroup of religion. In many
parts of the world, syncretism is more prominent as a
response to alternate worldviews, resulting in coexist-
ing modes of rationality rather than competing ones.
The ancient civilizations of Asia offer examples of
traditions developing their own modes of rationality
with different dynamics than the European model,
between the spheres of religion, science, and magic.
In China, the traditions are as complex and overlapping
as they are in Europe: ancestor-worship, Confucianism,
Daoism, and Buddhism as belief-systems evolved
and interacted amid the simultaneous development of
science and technology. These belief-systems cannot be
easily categorized as religion, philosophy, or magic
along Western lines. The Buddhist emphasis on the
world as illusory and the Daoist focus on metaphysics
lent themselves more readily to practices resembling
magic in a Western sense (appeals to supernatural aid,
fortune-telling), as did ancestor worship. Confucianism,
on the other hand, has both religious and philosophi-
cal elements; its concern with the social and political
world resembles more the secular humanism of the
western tradition. All of these coexist as alternate,
and sometimes complementary, modes of rationality in
China.
Similarly in the Chinese world, science and
technology do not necessarily replace magico-religious
belief: villagers’ responses to crisis (for example, a
plague) incorporate both medicinal remedies such as
serums proven through experimentation in the Western
scientific tradition, and rituals seeking to appease the
gods. While Westerners would be under some pressure
to justify such magical practices with some rational or
pseudoscientific explanation, the Chinese do not feel
compelled to argue about where or how the practice fits
into some duality of true or false, natural or super-
natural, orthodox or heretical, scientific or magical.
Ancestor worship and recourse to geomancers (practi-
tioners of feng shui, the art of finding spiritually correct
locations for buildings) and fortune tellers (Daoist
priests or other spiritualists) continue in twentieth-
century China and in Chinese communities in the West
without shame or apology (Hsu 1983).
Elsewhere in Asia, “magic” continues as part of
mainstream culture because it is closely linked with
cultural identity. In Korea, female shamans perform
Magic and science 1249
ritual cures and exorcisms (kut) as part of the uniquely
Korean fabric of life, alongside imported traditions
from China and the West; in this way shaman practice
is part of a unique Korean identity (Kendall 1985).
Shintoism in Japan, like ancestor-worship in China, is
part of the Japanese cultural heritage embedded in
everyday life, so much so that it easily accommodated
an incoming religious system such as Buddhism or
the development of science and technology, with which
it has no reason to quarrel. Thus, syncretism, rather
than opposing dualities, is a common pattern in the
dynamics of magic, science, and religion in Asian
cultures.
In many of the ancient near eastern and south Asian
cultures, practices resembling magic (fortune-telling,
amulets, and sorcery) form a subgroup of either religion
or science/medicine. Magicians in India, for example,
are closely linked with the religious traditions of
Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. Indian thought
emphasizes the illusory nature of the physical world;
religious masters (gurus, yogi, and other mendicants)
are able to manipulate the natural world precisely
because they have reached a state of enlightenment
where the world is truly an illusion to them. Likewise
street magicians and stage entertainers practice “decep-
tions” (sawing people, producing trees from a basket,
pulling an egg or a bird out of a bag, making ropes rise)
that echo Hindu or Islamic stories and thus embody
certain truths about the world as a wondrous, deceptive,
M
and illusory place that one looks through to find
meaning. Although such street magicians are a separate,
low (Muslim) caste in India, they are a prominent part of
India’s cultural landscape, popular as reflections of
Indian values (Seigel 1991).
The interconnection of belief, science, and magic is
also seen in Islamic culture. Medieval Islam fostered
scientific, technological, and medical research because
of their belief in a monotheistic Deity who made all
things rational for humans to study (a view that
eventually sparked medieval European science). Yet
Islam also has magical–mystical subgroups, some of
whom were condemned by Islamic law: their explora-
tions of astronomy have astrological connections, as
in Europe; their mathematical concepts have occult
meaning to some; Sufi mystics distanced themselves
from the Islamic intellectual heritage and sought
knowledge through other, spiritual or interior, means.
While these branches of Hinduism, Buddhism, or Islam
may be minority groups, they are not marginal to their
own cultures. Rather, they form an important extension
of mainstream ideas that influences the whole culture,
although not without conflict.
Societies in Africa, the Pacific, and Southeast Asia
that did not have the urban, literate characteristics of
these older civilizations provide clear examples of
how poorly the conceptual dichotomy of magic versus
1250 Magic and science
science works as a model for understanding cultures
where so-called magical practices are part of the norm.
In Mali (Africa), the Sundiata, a twentieth-century
version of an oral tradition dating back to the thirteenth
century, speaks of the war magic used by Malian
sorcerers to make a tribe successful so that others
feared them; their magic oracles dispensed wisdom
for successful living, a combination of prophecy and
character insight. Likewise, many Pacific island
cultures practiced a kind of potent magic in love, war,
and healing that relied on a sorcerer’s ability to conjure
nature and spirits.
These practices encompass both white and black
magic in the European paradigm, to both heal and
curse; such mastery is always dangerous to the
practitioner because of the power of the sources he or
she is using. In New Caledonia (Melanesia), sorcerers
concoct love potions; in Samoa (Polynesia), chants
ward off a headache caused by a god. In Pohnpei
(Micronesia), tribal groups employ sorcery to win a
war, calling on ghosts or natural forces such as tides;
during the Spanish occupation, they used both the
borrowed technology of guns and their own tradition of
sorcery to hold off attacks (Hanlon 1992). Marquesans
(in French Polynesia) also practiced a kind of war
“magic” closely linked to their tribal identity: chants of
power specific to their people and location used words
ritually to invoke natural/supernatural forces to aid
them in battle. The concept of mana in Polynesian
cultures embodies this sense of powerful forces that can
be channeled through words and actions, and is a more
authentic construct for understanding their practices
than is “magic.”
Such beliefs and practices, prior to European contact,
were part of political and social value systems; the
practitioners were feared for their power, but were
not marginal to an intellectual belief system, as they
became in European culture. The retention of these
beliefs in the power of the old ways after contact,
sometimes in defiance of, and sometimes integrated
with, Western beliefs, is a form of cultural resistance
and identity.
Many non-Western cultures, confronted with the
European intruder, perceived the actions of the
newcomer in terms of their own construct of supernat-
ural or occult power. For example, in the Americas,
native American Indians identified literate Europeans
(mostly missionaries) as shamans, and their books as
tools for manipulating natural/supernatural forces.
Literacy was a powerful form of knowledge to acquire,
and therefore was classified with other powerful forms
of knowledge in their culture held by their shamans
(magic and magicians to the Europeans). Thus literacy,
and the Christian religion wound around it, was
incorporated into the native belief system (Axtell
1988). Indeed, in the same way that the taking of
photographs was feared by some groups as a type of
sorcery for capturing their souls, so too the writing
down of history and ethnographic observations
(by Westerners) is sometimes perceived as a kind of
sorcery: the power of shaping and defining cultural
identity past and present.
Just as the magic-religion divide is indistinct, so too
the magic-science line is easily crossed. Westerners
cast doubt on the ancient Polynesians’ ability to
navigate the Pacific to reach new islands such as the
Hawaii chain without the technological tools used by
Europeans to accomplish such tasks. New research and
recreated voyages, however, confirm the knowledge of
wind, sky, and water, and the skills of navigation
contained in the remnants of Polynesian chants and
other oral traditions, usually categorized as magico-
religious rituals. This ambiguous line between magic
and science is also visible in modern globalized
medical practices that incorporate both Western
medical techniques and traditional medicine from
non-Western societies. The Chinese practice of acu-
puncture, once viewed in the United States as magic
or pseudoscience, is now being mainstreamed into
American medicine in lieu of drugs. In Java, a doctor
claims the ability to produce heat and electricity from
his own body for healing purposes and he documents
this ability using the Western scientific mode of proof
(experimentation, repeatability), performing spontane-
ous combustion on video (Ring of Fire). Such global
syncretism is increasing rather than decreasing, blur-
ring the distinctions between magic and science as
defined in European intellectual history.
Traditionally, then, magic has been defined in
opposition to science or religion in Western intellectual
development. However, such practices in non-Western
cultures that appear to resemble this category or are
similar to practices Westerners label magic, may not
in those cultures have been defined as a class in
opposition to some concept of religion or science. The
realization that “one man’s religion (or science) is
another man’s magic” is leading to redefinitions of
these terms and the development of meanings and
categories unique to each cultural context.
See also: ▶Navigation in Polynesia, ▶Navigation in
the Pacific
References
Axtell, James. After Columbus: Essays in the Ethnohistory of
Colonial North America. New York: Oxford, 1988.
Flint, Valerie I. J. The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval
Europe. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991.
Hanlon, David. Sorcery, ‘Savage Memories,’ and the Edge of
Commensurability for History in the Pacific. Pacific
Islands History: Journeys and Transformations. Ed. Brij
Lal. Canberra: The Journal of Pacific History, 1992.

Herbert, Christopher. Culture and Anomie: Ethnographic
Imagination in the Nineteenth Century. Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1991.
Hsu, Francis L. K. Exorcising the Trouble Makers: Magic,
Science and Culture. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood
Press, 1983.
Kendall, Laurel. Shamans, Housewives, and Other Restless
Spirits: Women in Korean Ritual Life. Honolulu: Uni-
versity of Hawaii Press, 1985.
Kieckhefer, Richard. Magic in the Middle Ages. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1990.
Luck, Georg. Arcana Mundi: Magic and the Occult in the
Greek and Roman Worlds. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1985.
Malinowski, Bronislaw. Magic, Science and Other Essays.
Boston: Beacon Press, 1948.
Neusner, Jacob, Ernest Frerichs, and Paul Virgil McCracken
Flesher eds. Religion, Science, and Magic: In Concert and
In Conflict. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.
Seigel, Lee. Net of Magic: Wonders and Deceptions in India.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991.
Tambiah, Stanley. Magic, Science, Religion, and the Scope
of Rationality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1990.
Thomas, Keith. Religion and the Decline of Magic. New
York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1971.
Magic Squares in China
H O P ENG Y OKE
By modern definition a magic square is an arrangement
of numbers in a square whereby the sum of the numbers
in every individual row, in every individual column and
in each of the two diagonals of the square is identical.
Figs. 1 and 2 are examples of magic squares. In Fig. 1
all rows, columns and diagonals add up to the sum 15
and in Fig. 2 they add up to 34.
Magic Squares in China. Fig. 1 Magic square of 15.
Magic Squares in China. Fig. 2 Magic square of 34.
Each number occupies a cell. There are 9 cells in
Fig. 1 and 16 cells in Fig. 2. Figure 1 is known as a 3 × 3
magic square or a magic square of the order 3; similarly
Magic squares in China 1251
Fig. 2 is a 4 × 4 magic square or a magic square of the
order 4. Methods for constructing these two magic
squares as well as some magic squares of higher orders
are given in the Xugu zheqi suanfa (Continuation of
Ancient Mathematical Methods for Elucidating the
Strange), composed in 1275 by Yang Hui. Numbers can
also be arranged to form a circle or even a cube that
shares some of the properties of the magic square.
Nowadays all these come under the heading “number
theory” or even “mathematical recreation” in libraries.
However, the word “magic” in the magic square has lost
some of its original meaning.
Chinese magic squares have attracted the attention of
modern mathematicians and historians of science.
Studies by modern scholars have brought forth many
interesting results, but how and why certain Chinese
magic squares were constructed cannot be fully
understood if one approaches the subject entirely from
the standpoint of modern mathematics. The modern
Chinese equivalent of the term “mathematics” is shuxue,
but prior to the middle of the nineteenth century the
same term had a much wider meaning, embracing
mathematics, philosophy, astrology, and divination.
Studies from the angle of modern mathematics have
recently been supplemented by investigations from a
different perspective.
The first-century book Da-Dai Liji (Record of Rites
by the Elder Dai), contains the following arrangement
of numbers:
M
2,9,4 7,5,3 6,1,8.
This set of numbers also occurs in a probably earlier
mathematical text, the Shushu jiyi (Memoir on Some
Traditions of Mathematical Art), said to be written in
the year 190 BCE by Xu Yue. This is the earliest magic
square on record. It was used mainly in astrology and
divination. Then during the twelfth century one of Zhu
Xi’s (1130–1220) disciples Cai Yuanding (1145–1198)
identified the Bright Hall and the Nine-palace arrange-
ment as the legendary Luoshu chart mentioned in
ancient texts. Together with another legendary chart,
the Hetu River Diagram, the riddles of the universe
were supposed to be embodied therein. Hence the
two charts were used to interpret not only natural
phenomena, but also philosophy and human behavior.
They even found their use in Daoist ceremony and
magic. Numerology played a profound role in Chinese
magic squares. The occurrence of certain numbers, e.g.,
5, 9, 25, 49, 50, and 64 in Chinese magic squares is
significant. All these were closely associated with the
Hetu and Luoshu charts and with the Yijing (I Ching,
The Book of Changes).
Yang Hui’s Xugu zheqi suanfa is the earliest and best
source for Chinese magic squares. The methods of
construction of some of the larger magic squares remind
us of the foot movements of the Daoists performing
1252 Magic squares in Indian mathematics
ceremonies and magic. About three decades later Ding
Yidong wrote his Dayan suoyin which contains a
number of magic squares and magic circles constructed
on a similar basis. Then in about the year 1593 Chen
Dawei collected a number of magic squares in his
Suanfa tongzong (Systematic Treatise on Arithmetic)
without involving himself with the theoretical aspect of
the subject. In 1661 Fang Zhongtong (1633–1698)
wrote the Shuduyan, which contains magic circles,
cubes, and spheres, besides magic squares. Next comes
Zhang Chao’s (b. 1650) Xinzhai zazu (Miscellanea of
Zhang Xinzhai), which includes a Supplement to the
magic squares of Cheng Dawei’s work. The last
description of magic squares by a traditional Chinese
scholar came in the latter part of the nineteenth century
when Bao Qishou wrote his Binaishanfang ji (Collec-
tions of Writings in the Binai Mountain Studies).
The Luoshu chart magic square probably first went
to India and then to the Arab countries, where other
magic squares were later developed in their individual
ways. From the Arab countries magic squares were said
to be first brought to Europe by a Byzantine, Manuel
Moschopoulos (fl. ca. 1295–1316). Transmission of
knowledge between China and her western neighbors
was seldom unidirectional. In 1956 a thirteenth-century
6 × 6 Muslim magic square was excavated near the city
of Xi’an. Magic squares even had a role to play in trade
between China and the Arab countries in the past. In
1906 when Queen Mary of the British Empire visited
Hyderabad in India she was presented with a Chinese
porcelain plate decorated with Arabic inscriptions and
a magic square. This plate is now preserved at the
Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington. It
was manufactured in the eighteenth century at the world
renowned Chinese kiln center, Jingdezhen. It was used
originally by the Muslims as a medicine bowl, so that the
inscriptions were taken from the Qu’rān, and the magic
square was believed to possess powerful virtues for
protecting life, healing the sick, and bringing about a
comfortable delivery when a pregnant woman sat on it.
Other specimens of Chinese porcelain plates bearing
magic squares in a corrupted form are among the
collections of museums and private collectors today.
See also: ▶Yang Hui, ▶Xu Yue, ▶Astrology, ▶Divi-
nation
References
Andrews, W. S. Magic Squares and Cubes. Chicago: Open
Court Publishing, 1908.
Cammann, Schuyler. Islamic and Indian Magic Squares.
History of Religion 8.1 (1969): 181–209, 271–99.
Lam, Lay Yong. A Critical Study of the Yang Hui Suan Fa.
Singapore: University of Singapore Press, 1977.
Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China. Vol. 3.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959.
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics
TAKAO H AYASHI
The oldest datable magic square in India occurs in
Varāhamihira’s encyclopedic work on divination,
Br.hatsam . hitā (ca. AD 550). He utilized a modified
magic square of order four in order to prescribe
combinations and quantities of ingredients of perfume.
It consists of two sets of the natural numbers 1–8, and
its constant sum ( p) is 18. It is, so to speak, pan-
diagonal, that is, not only the two main diagonals but
also all “broken” diagonals have the same constant
sum. Utpala, the commentator (AD 967), also points
out many other quadruplets that have the same sum.
One of the four candidates for Varāhamihira’s original
square, with a rotation of 90°, coincides with the famous
Islamic square, which al-Bīrūnī and al-Zinjānī frequently
used as a basic pattern for talismans.
Varāhamihira called his square kacchaput. a (the cara-
pace of a turtle?), which reminds one of the title of a book
on magic, Kaks.aput.a (date unknown). The book contains
a method for constructing a magic square of order four
when a constant sum ( p) is given. It also contains a square
having the sum 100, which is attributed to Nāgārjuna.
In his medical work, Siddhayoga (ca. AD 900),
Vr.nda prescribed a magic square of order three to be
employed by a woman in labor in order to have an easy
delivery. Its sum is 30. This is the first datable instance
of a magic square of order three in India, although there
is a legend that a Garga, who may or may not be the
author of the Gargasam . hitā (ca. first century BCE or
AD), recommended magic squares of order three in
order to pacify the navagraha (nine planets).
The famous Jaina magic square, which is incised on
the entrance of a Jaina temple, Jinanātha, in Khajuraho,
is assignable to the twelfth or the thirteenth century on a
paleographical basis. It is pan-diagonal. Several Jaina
hymns that teach how to make magic squares have been
handed down, but their dates are uncertain.
As far as is known, T.hakkura Pherū, a Jaina scholar,
is the first in India who treated magic squares in a
mathematical work. His Gan.itasāra (ca. AD 1315)
contains a small section on magic squares that consists
of nine verses. He gives a square of order four, and
alludes to its rearrangement; classifies magic squares
( jam. ta = Sanskrit yantra) into three (odd, even, and
evenly odd) according to the order (n), i.e., the number
of cells (kut. t. ha = Sanskrit kos.t. ha) on a side of the
square; gives a square of order six; and prescribes one
method each for constructing even and odd squares.
The method for even squares divides the square into
component squares of order four, and puts the numbers
into cells according to the pattern of a standard square
 Magic squares in Indian mathematics 1253

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 1 Varāhami- Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 5 Nāgārjuna’s
hira’s magic square ( p = 18). magic square ( p = 100).

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 6 Vr.nda’s

magic square of order three ( p = 30).

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 7 Jaina magic M

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 2 Magic
squares reconstructed from Varāhamihira’s square ( p = 34). square of Khajuraho ( p = 34).

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 3 The Islamic Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 8 Pherū’s
square of order four ( p = 34). square of four and its rearrangement ( p = 34).

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 4 Patterns for magic squares of order four given in the Kaks.aput. a.
1254 Magic squares in Indian mathematics

of order four. That for odd squares first places in the

central column the arithmetical progression whose first
term and common difference are unity and (n + 1),
respectively; and then, starting from the numbers in the
central column and proceeding by knight move,
successively increases the number by n. The square
thus obtained is the same as the one obtained by the so-
called diagonal method (cf. Fig. 21).
Nārāyan.a wrote a comprehensive work on mathe-
matics entitled Gan.itakaumudī (AD 1356). Its last
chapter, called bhadra-gan.ita (Mathematics of Magic
Squares), comprises 55 verses for rules and 17 verses
for examples, and is devoted exclusively to magic
squares and derivative magic figures (upabhadra) of
various shapes (cf. Figs. 22–23).
The topics treated are: definitions of technical
terms; determination of the mathematical progressions

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 9 Pherū’s Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 11 Pherū’s
square of order six ( p = 111). construction method for “odd”-order magic squares.

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 10 Pherū’s construction method for “even”-order magic squares.
 Magic squares in Indian mathematics 1255

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 12 Nārāyan.a’s

squares of four made by “horse-move” ( p = 34).

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 16 Nārāyan.a’s

method for “even-womb” squares (I): folding method.

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 13 Nārāyan.a’s

squares of four made by an arithmetical progression.

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 14 Nārāyan.a’s

squares of four made by n sets of arithmetical
progressions.

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 17 Nārāyan.a’s

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 15 Nārāyan.a’s method for “even-womb” squares (II): according to the pattern
squares of four made by addition of a number (t). of the standard square (Fig. 12a).
1256 Magic squares in Indian mathematics
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 18 Nārāyan.a’s method for “odd-womb” squares (I): zigzag method.
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 19 Nārāyan.a’s
method for “odd-womb” squares (II): transposing method
(conjectural reconstruction).
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 20 Nārāyan.a’s method for odd squares (I): folding method.
to be used in magic squares by means of kut. t. aka,
i.e., indeterminate equations of the first degree; how to
make a square of order four by turagagati (horse
move); the number of pan-diagonal magic squares of
order four, 384, including every variation made by
rotation and inversion.
Then Nārāyan.a gives three general methods for
constructing a square having any optional order (n) and
constant sum ( p) when a standard square of the same
order is known – (1) by means of an arithmetical
progression having an appropriate first term (a) and
common difference (d ), (2) by means of n sets of
arithmetical progressions whose common differences
are all unity, and (3) by adding an appropriate number
(t) to every term of the standard square.
Nārāyan.a next explains two methods each for
constructing sama-garbha (even-womb) or evenly
even, vis.ama (odd-womb) or evenly odd, and odd
squares when the sum is given. The two methods for

Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 21 Nārāyan.a’s
method for odd squares (II): diagonal method.
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 22 (a) Nārāyan.a’s magic lotus with six petals: preliminary magic oblong.
(b) Nārāyan.a’s magic lotus with six petals ( p = 294).
Magic squares in Indian mathematics 1257
the first kind are (1) by folding two preliminary squares
karasam . put. a-vat ( just like the folding of two hands),
and (2) by arranging numbers in the component squares
of order four according to the pattern of a standard
square. For the second kind they are (1) by putting
numbers zigzag in the square and (2) by transposing
certain numbers in the natural square. These two
methods are not completely mechanical, and require
mati (intelligence). The methods for the third kind are
(1) by folding two preliminary squares just as in the
case of the first kind and (2) by starting from the central
cell of any side of the square and proceeding diagonally.
In the last section Nārāyan.a gives a number of
examples for two kinds of derivative magic figures,
sam. kīrn.a (miscellaneous) and man.d. ala (circular). Both
1258 Magic squares in Indian mathematics
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 23
(a) Nārāyan.a’s magic circle: preliminary magic oblong.
(b) Nārāyan.a’s magic circle ( p = 360).
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Fig. 24 Pattern for
magic square of four by Laghunandana.
kinds are made by rearranging ordinary magic squares.
In his encyclopedic work on Hindu Law, Smr.titattva
(ca. AD 1500), Laghunandana gives a method for
making squares of order four having any optional
sum that is determined according to the purpose (see
Table 1).
Significant scholarly work has been done on the
importance of magic squares both mathematically and
philosophically. Cammann and Roşu both discuss the
significance of magic squares in Indian thought and
compare Indian, Islamic, and Chinese magic squares.
Magic Squares in Indian Mathematics. Table 1 Purposes
of magic squares of order four
Sum ( p) Purpose
20 To neutralize poison
28 To protect crops from insects
32 To accelerate delivery
34 To protect travelers
50 To exorcise evil spirits
64 To protect warriors
72 For women having no children
84 To soothe crying children
Hayashi discusses the magic squares of Varāhamihira,
of Pherū, and of Nārāyana, providing the first modern
translations of their works on magic squares. Datta and
Singh’s posthumous work, revised by K. S. Shukla,
mainly treats Nārāyana’s magic squares. Kusuba pro-
vides an English translation with mathematical com-
mentary, as well as an edition of the Sanskrit text, of
Nārāyan.a’s work on magic squares. Singh gives an
English translation of the entire Gan.ita-kaumudi
including the chapter on magic squares.
See also: ▶Varāhamihira, ▶Nārāyan.a
References
Cammann, S. Islamic and Indian Magic Squares. History of
Religions 8 (1968 and 1969): 181–209 and 271–99.
Datta, B. and A. N. Singh. Magic Squares in India. Revised
by K. S. Shukla. Indian Journal of History of Science 27
(1992): 51–120.
Goonetilleke, W. The American Puzzle. The Indian Anti-
quary 11 (1882): 83–4.
Grierson, G. A. An American Puzzle. The Indian Antiquary
10 (1881): 89–90.
Hayashi, T. Hōjinzan (A Japanese translation with mathe-
matical commentary of Nārāyan.a’s ‘Mathematics of Magic
Squares’). Epistēmē. Series 3: Tokyo: Asahi Press, 1986.
i–xxxiv.
Hayashi, T. Varāhamihira’s Pandiagonal Magic Square of the
Order Four. Historia Mathematica 14 (1987): 159–66.
Kapadia, H. R. A Note on Jaina Hymns and Magic Squares.
Indian Historical Quarterly 10 (1934): 148–53.
Kusuba, T. Combinatorics and Magic Squares in India.
A Study of Nārāyan.a Pan.d. ita’s Gan.itakaumudī. Chaps.
13–14. Ph.D. Dissertation, Brown University, 1993.
Ojha, G. K. Ańkavidyā. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1982.
Roşu, A. Études ayurvediques III:Les carrés magiques dans la
médicine indienne. Studies on Indian Medical History. Ed.
G. J. Meulenbeld and D. Wujastyk. Groningen: Egbert
Forsten, 1987. 103–12.
Roşu, A. Les carrés magiques indiens et l’histoire des idées
en Asie. Zeitschrift der Morgenländischen Gesellschaft
139 (1989): 120–58.
Singh, P. Total Number of Perfect Magic Squares: Nārāyan.a’s
Rule. Mathematics Education 16A (1982): 32–7.
 Magic squares in Islamic mathematics 1259

Singh, P. Nārāyan.a’s Treatment of Magic Squares. Indian
Journal of History of Science 21 (1986): 123–30.
Singh, P. The Gan.itakaumudī of Nārāyan.a Pan.d. ita, Chapter
XIV: English Translation with Notes. Gan.ita Bhāratī
24(2002): 35–98.
Vijayaraghavan, T. On Jaina Magic Squares. Mathematics
Student 9 (1941): 97–102.
Magic Squares in Islamic
Mathematics
order r, r 2 subsquares of order s (Fig. 1). Another
contemporary achievement was the construction of
bordered squares in which the even numbers are
separated from the odd ones (Fig. 2).
Treatises explaining general constructions were
common in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. They
also explain how to construct a magic square for a
given sum, or for a word of n letters or n words to be
put in the first row, since a number among the units, the
tens, the hundreds, and one thousand is associated with

J ACQUES S ESIANO

One of the most impressive achievements in Islamic

mathematics is the development of general methods for
constructing magic squares. A magic square of order n
is a square divided into n2 cells in which different
natural numbers (mostly the n2 first naturals) must be
arranged in such a way that the same sum appears in
each of the rows, columns, and two main diagonals. If,
in addition to this basic property, the square remains
magic when the borders are successively removed, we
speak of a “bordered square.” If the sum in any pair of
complementary diagonals (i.e., pairs of parallel diag-
onals lying on each side of a main diagonal and having
together n cells) shows the constant sum, the square is
M
called “pandiagonal.”
Squares are usually divided into three categories:
odd-order squares (n = 2k + 1, k natural), evenly even Magic Squares in Islamic Mathematics. Fig. 1 A
squares (n = 4k), and evenly odd squares (n = 4k + 2). composite square.
There are general methods for constructing squares
of any order from one of these three categories.
Except for the smallest possible order, n = 3, there are
numerous possibilities of forming magic squares of any
given order. There may be, however, some limitations
concerning additional magical properties; for instance,
there are no pandiagonal squares of evenly odd order.
Information about the beginning of Islamic research
on magic squares is lacking. It may have been con-
nected with the introduction of chess into Persia in
early Islamic times. Initially, the problem was a purely
mathematical one; thus, the Arabic ancient designation
for magic squares is wafq al-a’dād (harmonious disposi-
tion of the numbers). We know that treatises were written
in the ninth century, but the earliest extant ones date
back to the tenth century. It appears that, by that time, the
science of magic squares was already established. Not
only was the construction of a magic square, simple or
bordered, explained for various orders, but also several
additional conditions or refinements were considered.
For example, the construction of “composite squares”
was well known: if n = r × s, with r, s ≥ 3, one may fill Magic Squares in Islamic Mathematics. Fig. 2 A bordered
successively, according to a magical arrangement for the square separating the numbers according to parity.
1260 Magic squares in Japanese mathematics

Magic Squares in Japanese

Mathematics

Y OSHIMASA M ICHIWAKI

The study of Magic Squares in Japan began in the

beginning of the Kan-ei period (1624–1643) with the
import of Suan fa tong zog published in 1592 by Chen
Dawei of China. Almost all the famous wasan
(Japanese mathematics) experts, such as Takakazu
Magic Squares in Islamic Mathematics. Fig. 3 Magic Seki (or Seki Kowa, ca. 1642–1708) studied squares.
square from a given first row. On a smaller scale, the study has continued, and we
have gained some new insights lately.
The study of squares concerns itself with some aspects
each of the 28 Arabic letters. The words occurring in of combinatorial mathematics, so some of its general
the first row are either proper names or words of a methods are applied as well. For example, some parts
religious nature (Fig. 3; the five words correspond to of perfect 5 × 5 squares are made by the “Knight Jump
the numbers 81, 7, 116, 66, and 80). Pandiagonal Arrangement”. The study of compositions, which was
squares are constructed in various ways for evenly even started by a Russian scholar, is limited to perfect 4 × 4
orders, but incompletely for odd orders (the method squares, but the method was also applied to 8 × 8
fails for certain orders). squares, as in the study by Motoaki Abe. Rakuho Abe
From the thirteenth century on, magic squares obtained a fantastic result of irregular, perfect 7 × 7
become more and more associated with magic and squares. This is shown below:
divinatory purposes. Consequently, some texts merely
picture squares and mention their attributes. Some
others, though, keep the general theory alive, mostly to
enable the reader to construct amulets by himself.
Interest in magic squares in Europe first arose toward
the end of the Middle Ages, when two sets of squares
associated with the seven planets were learned of
through astrological and magic texts (whence the
name), but without any information on their construc-
tion. Thus, the entire theory had to be built anew, and it
is only in very recent times that the extent of Islamic
research has come to light. It should also be remarked
In this the total of the diagonal or pandiagonal numbers is
that the methods of construction spread eastward
175; the total of the four corner numbers (16 + 47 + 34 + 3)
around the twelfth century toward India and China.
is 100; the total of the numbers around the centers
(9 + 21 + 41 + 29) is 100; and the total of the middle
numbers of the four sides (17 + 10 + 33 + 40) is also 100.
References
In the middle of the Heian period, i.e., in 970,
Sesiano, Jacques. An Arabic Treatise on the Construction of Tamenori Minamoto edited Kuchi-zusami for the
Bordered Magic Squares. Historia Scientiarum 42 (1991): education of young nobility. In the 12th chapter we
13–31.
find this sentence: 4 and 2 make a shoulder, left 3 and
---. Quelques méthodes arabes de construction des carrés
magiques impairs. Bulletin de la Société vaudoise des right 7, legs are 6 and 8, head 9, body 5, tail is 1:
Sciences naturelles 83.1 (1994): 51–76.
---. Herstellungsverfahren magischer Quadrate aus isla-
mischer Zeit, I–III. Sudhoffs Archiv 64.2 (1980): 187–96;
65.3 (1981): 251–65; 71.1 (1987): 78–89; 79.2 (1995):
193–226.
---. Un traité médiéval sur les carrés magiques. Lausanne:
Presses polytechniques et universitaires romandes, 1996.
---. Le traité d’Abu’l-Wafa’ sur les carrés magiques. The legs, head, and tail seem to be those of some
Zeitschrift f ür Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wis- animal (a tortoise?), and maybe they suggest the
senschaften 12 (1998): 121–244. arrangement of numerals. We are not sure how

Minamoto came by this knowledge of squares, but the
3 × 3 square in Kuchi-zusami is the oldest record as far
as we know.
A book by Yūeki Andō (1624–1704), a clansman of
Aizu, is the first in the world in which the author
explains a general way to make squares by increasing
from 3 × 3 to 30 × 30 squares (see Table 1).
Magic Squares in Japanese Mathematics. Table 1 A
general way to make squares
For example, if we exchange positions in square A so
that 1 ↔ 6, 3 ↔ 8, 9 ↔ 4, and 2 ↔ 7, we get square B. Then
the four corners are all even numbers. If we then turn these
four corner numbers 90° clockwise, we get square C.
In the 5 × 5 square like the figure shown above, the
thick-lined square is a 3 × 3 square. Change it into D
of Table 1. Next, work on the four corners of the
outside square, and exchange positions in the following
manner: 1 ↔ 15, 5 ↔ 23, 25 ↔ 11, and 21 ↔ 3. Do not
turn the four corner numbers, because they are odd
numbers. You will complete the work by putting D, the
3 × 3 square, inside it.
Takakazu Seki commented on the general way of
making squares in the books, Hōjin-no-hō and Ensan-
no-hō, written in the third year of the Tenwa period
(1683). He divided them into odd-celled squares and
two types of even-celled squares. Squares by Katahiro
Takebe (1664–1739) are introduced in Volume 4 of the
Ichigen Kappō, written by Shukei Irie.
In 3 × 3 squares, put the numerals in order, turn the
center joined by both diagonals, lines, and rows 45°
leftward. Then turn the center of the lines and rows 180°:
Yoshisuke Matsunaga (1692–1744), a pupil of Seki’s
pupil, wrote Hōjin-Shin-jutsu. There are also studies
by Yoshihiro Kurushima (d. 1757), and by Naonobu
Magic squares in Japanese mathematics 1261
Ajima (1732–1798). The question on step children is in
Jingōki by Mitsuyoshi Yoshida. The question is close to
that of Joseph’s problem in the West.
Shūtarō Teramura (1902–1980) studied how many
“parent–child” squares could be made in all, and in
1926 he made 605 squares. Following are some
examples.
In the first, the parent square is a perfect 8 × 8 square.
The child one (between thick lines) is a perfect 4 × 4
square (shown below):
In another example, the parent square is also a perfect
8 × 8 square, and the child one (upper-middle part) is a
perfect 4 × 4 square, as shown below:
M
To make a perfect 4 × 4 square, choose optional
numbers for x, y, z, u, and t. X = x + y + z + u. Make the
square as follows:
x y z u
z
t uþt x
t yþt
1=2X
z 1=2X
u 1=2X
x 1=2X
y
1=2X
x þ t 1=2X
y
t 1=2X
z þ t 1=2X
u
t
To make perfect 8 × 8 squares, choose optional
numbers for a, b, and c, and construct the square as
in Table 2.
In an N square, in which a line has n divisions, and
which consists of n2 numerals, the total of the vertical
and horizontal lines should be the same as that of both
diagonals. This square is a Magic Square, and if each
sum of the numbers of all the parallel lines is the same,
the square is a Perfect Magic Square. The study of
Michiwaki and Moriyama (1963) tells how to make it.
1262 Magic squares in Japanese mathematics

Magic Squares in Japanese Mathematics. Table 2 Making perfect 8 × 8 squares

a b c d e f g h
c+x d−x e+x f−x g+x h−x a+x b−x
e+y f−y g+y h−y a+y b−y c+y d−y
f−y h+x a−x b+x c−x d+x e−x f+x
−e − y −f + y −g − y −h − y −a − y −b + y −c − y −d − y
−g + z −h − z −a + z −b − z −c + z −d − z −e + z −f − z
−a −b −c −d −e −f −g −h
−c − z −d + z −e − z −f + z −g − z −h + z −a − z −b + z

There are also many special squares. The best

examples of circular squares are introduced in
Takakazu Seki’s Hōjin-no-hō and Ensan-no-hō (see
Fig. 1).
Star squares were studied by Shigematsu Urata and
Rakuhō Abe in 1955 (see Fig. 2).
The first cubic square in Japan was introduced as
“cubic design” in Rakusho-kikan by Yoshizane Tanaka
(1651–1719). In it, he piled up the following 4 × 4
squares in order:

Magic Squares in Japanese Mathematics. Fig. 1 Circular

square.

Arata Sakai started the study of perfect 4 × 4 cubic

squares in 1938, and Shigematsu Urata completed it in
1948. Motoaki Abe made a 5 × 5 cubic square in the
latter part of the Taishō period. A 7 × 7 cubic square
was made by Motoaki Abe and Shōji Shimada.
In 1948 Rakuhō Abe made a perfect 6 × 6 cubic
square with a plane 6 × 6 square as its base, but
the diagonal total was not regular. Michiwaki and
Moriyama studied the way to make special perfect
9 × 9 cubic squares, and the way to count their
numbers.

See also: ▶Seki Kowa, ▶Takebe Katahiro, ▶Ajima

Naonobu

References
Abe, Rakuhō. Three Kinds of Excellent Squares – Difficult
Puzzling Since Two Hundred Years and Its Solutions.
Mathematical Sciences (1977): 39–41.
Magic Squares in Japanese Mathematics. Fig. 2 Star ---. Square of Wasan – History, Characteristics, Works. BUT
square. Bulletin, Science University of Tokyo (1987): 2–5.

Hayashi, Takao. Square in Kuchi-zusami. Journal of History
of Mathematics, Japan 131 (1991): 34–7.
Hirayama, Akira and Rakuhō Abe. Study of Squares. Osaka:
Kyoiku Tosho, 1983.
Katō, Heizaemon. Study of Wasan. Zatsuron. 3 vols. Tokyo:
Japan Association for the Advancement of Science, 1956.
Michiwaki, Yoshimasa and Yoshio Moriyama. A Note on
Perfect and Magic Squares 1. Research Reports of
Nagaoka Technical College 1.2 (1963): 79–98.
---. A Note on Perfect and Magic Squares 2. Research
Reports of Nagaoka Technical College 1.3 (1964): 57–69.
---. A Note on Perfect and Magic Squares 3. Research
Reports of Nagaoka Technical College 2.4 (1966): 69–76.
---. A Note on Perfect and Magic Squares 4. Research
Reports of Nagaoka Technical College 3.1 (1967): 19–30.
---. A Note on Perfect and Magic Squares 5. Research
Reports of Nagaoka Technical College 4.2 (1968): 69–80.
---. A Note on Perfect and Magic Squares 6. Research
Reports of Nagaoka Technical College 5.2 (1969): 77–84.
Magnetism in Chinese Culture
C HEN C HENG -Y IH (J OSEPH )
In Chinese civilization, the ci-shi (lodestones) and
their ability to attract iron are mentioned in a number
of Zhou period Classics. It is stated in the Shanhai
Jing (Classic of the Mountains and Rivers) that
lodestones are found at ao-ze. A remark in the Guan
Zi (Book of Master Guan) indicates that the finding of
lodestones was once viewed by ancient prospectors
as an indication for the possible presence of other
mineral deposits. Both the Gui Gu Zi (Book of
the Devil Valley Master) of the fourth century BCE
and Lushi Chun Qiu (Master Lu’s Spring–Autumn
Annals) of 239 BCE mention that the lodestone
attracts iron.
The attractive interaction between the lodestone and
iron was interpreted as being caused by xiang gan
(mutual influence), a sympathetic response between
two interacting entities. Wang Chong, in the Lun Heng
(Discourse Weighed in Balance) of AD 82 offers the
interpretation that some items attract others, while some
cannot, because their qi is different and consequently they
cannot mutually influence one another. The character qi
literally means vapor or breath. In the course of time, it
took on a number of proto-scientific significances: the
basic constituent entity of all things in nature and the
media of the yinyang interactions. There are a number of
scholars who translate qi as “energy,” “field,” or “matter-
energy,” but in ancient times, the concepts of energy and
field were not yet explicitly developed. Qi, as it is given in
the Chinese texts, is not identified by its intrinsic
properties, but by its general relationship with others.
Though the pattern relationship is identifiable with
Magnetism in Chinese culture 1263
certain aspects of the modern concept of energy, field,
or matter-energy, it is better to preserve the term qi and not
to translate it.
A later account (AD 300) by Guo Pu also comments
on the role of qi in such interactions.
The lodestone draws iron, and amber collects mustard-
seeds. [Since] their qi are invisibly interconnected and
their measures are silently met, the mutual influence
between them consequently occurred.
Such a view of interaction at a distance involving qi
is compatible with modern views.
The strength of such attractive interactions was later
discussed in terms of the weight of iron pieces or the
number of needles that the lodestone was capable of
supporting.
Tao Hong Jing stated in the Ming Yi Bie Lu (Informal
Records of Famous Physicians) that some “[lodestones]
could suspend a chain of more than ten needles”.
Based on such quantitative measures of the attractive
power, lodestones were graded as follows:
A piece of genuine lodestone is called the yan nian
sha if it is capable of attracting, on its four sides,
one catty of iron piece (the equal weight of the
lodestone); called the ji cai shi if it is capable of
attracting, on its four sides, eight ounces weight of
iron piece; and called simply the ci shi if it is
capable of attracting, on its four sides, four ounces
of iron piece (Lei Gong Pao Zhilun). M
The directional property of lodestones was probably
first used in the sinan ceremony, a practice evolved
directly from the tradition of using a gnomon and the
positions of the sun and stars to determine the time and
directions. The term sinan means “south verification”
or “south controller.” The discovery of lodestone’s
south pointing property led naturally to its association
with the term sinan and the sinan (south verification)
devices. However, early mentions of the sinan devices
provide little information on their construction. In the
Gui Gu Zi there is mention of the fact that when the
Zheng people engage in collecting jade, they always
carry with them a sinan to avoid being lost.
The device described by Wang Chong has been
widely considered to be the earliest form of the magnetic
compass.
The Chinese literature of the period ranging from the
Han to the Tang dynasties provides a number of hints
that, by the first century AD, the fact that the directive
property of the lodestone could be transferred to small
pieces of iron was discovered, and by the seventh century
AD, the magnetized needle began to appear in certain
compasses, replacing lodestones for greater precision.
But the records are not sufficiently specific to provide
a definitive account of these developments. Explicit
descriptions of magnetic properties and compass
construction are found in the work of the Song dynasty.
1264 Magnetism in Chinese culture
Properties of magnetized needles are discussed in
the work of Shen Gua (1029–1093). We have from
his Meng Xi Bi Tan (Meng Xi Essays) of 1086, the
following description of declination:
Fang Jia uses the lodestone to rub the point of a
needle;
The needle is then able to point to the south.
It does not, however, point directly at the south,
It always inclines slightly to the east.
Following this description is the passage on the
needle supporting methods:
[The needle] can be supported by making it float
on the surface of water, but it is rather unsteady.
It may be balanced on the finger-nail, or on the rim
of a cup, so that it can turn more easily, but such
supports being hard and smooth [mean it] is liable
to fall off. The best way of supporting the needle is
by suspension. The method uses a single cocoon
fiber of new silk to suspend the needle. By
attaching silk to the center of needle with a piece
of wax the size of a mustard-seed and hanging in a
windless place, the needle will then always point
to the south undisturbed.
He discusses three types of needle-supporting
methods: floating, pivot, and suspension. For the study
of magnetic properties, Shen Gua preferred the sus-
pension method using a silk thread. The other two
methods of supporting the needle, by floating it on the
water surface and by pivoting it on a hard smooth
surface, correspond to those used in the wet and dry
compass, respectively.
Shen Gua’s work also discusses magnetic polarity.
He noticed that some needles pointed north and some
south. He believed that different natures caused this,
just as animals shed at different seasons.
An important discussion of the magnetic compass is
found in the Wujing Zongyao (Collection of the Most
Important Military Techniques) of AD 1044.
When troops encountered gloomy weather or dark
night, and could not distinguish the directions,
they would let an old horse in the front lead them,
or else they would make use of the south-pointing
carriage, or the south-pointing fish to identify the
directions. Now the carriage method has not been
handed down. In the (south-pointing) fish method,
a thin leaf of iron is cut into the shape of a fish two
inches long and half an inch broad, having a
pointed head and tail. It is then heated in a
charcoal fire until it becomes thoroughly red-hot,
taken out by the head with iron tongs, and placed
so that its tail is in the zi direction (due north). In
this position, it is quenched with water in a basin,
so that its tail is submerged for several tenths of a
inch. It is then kept in a miqi (tightly closed box).
To use it, a small bowl filled with water is set up in
a windless place, and the fish is laid as flat as
possible upon the water surface so that it floats,
whereupon its head will point in the wu direction
(south).
The passage not only provides a clear discussion on
the construction of a compass, but also reveals a
different method for magnetizing iron pieces. Thus no
later than the early Song dynasty (960–1279), two
methods of magnetizing were known. Other than
rubbing with the lodestone, an iron piece could also
be magnetized by quenching it from red heat through
the Curie point, held in a north–south direction (in the
magnetic field) of the earth. The discovery of the
thermoremanence phenomena was of great scientific
significance. Since the earth’s magnetic field is rela-
tively weak and the soft iron does not retain its
magnetism long, questions were raised as to whether
such magnetized iron could function satisfactorily as
a compass. Recent archaeological evidence revealed a
long history of steel development in China, beginning
from the later part of the spring-autumn period of
the Zhou dynasty. By the second century BCE, two
methods for steel production from pig iron were
developed, one by the puddling of molten iron and
the other by decarbonization of cast iron in the solid
state without the formation of graphite. Thus, good
steel and steel needles were certainly available in the
early Song dynasty.
An important use of the compass is in navigation.
Clear and accurately datable statements on such a use
are found in the Pingzhou KeTan (Pingzhou Table Talk)
of 1119, when the author says that ships’ pilots look at a
south-pointing needle or sample of the mud collected
from the sea bottom to determine their whereabouts in
dark weather. This is confirmed in other books of the
period.
Based on these statements and other sources,
Needham has concluded that “description of the use
of the compass for navigation on Chinese ships
antedates the first knowledge of this technique in
Europe by just under a century, but there are indications
that it was used for this purpose in China somewhat
earlier.”
Needham is also of the view that “Chinese sailors
remained faithful to the floating-compass for many
centuries. Although the dry pivoted compass had been
described early in the twelfth century AD, it did not
become common on Chinese vessels until it was
reintroduced from the West in the sixteenth century by
the Dutch and Portuguese by way of Japan. Associated
then with it was the compass-card (the windrose
attached to the magnet) which had probably been an
Italian invention at the beginning of the fourteenth

Magnetism in Chinese Culture. Fig. 1 Clay figurine with a
dry-pivoted compass in its arm unearthed in 1985 from the
tomb of Zhu Jinan.
century.” The European mariner’s compass is char-
acterized by sixteen compass points in contrast to the
24 of the Chinese compass. The discovery of the clay
depiction of a dry-pivoted compass in the tomb of Zhu
Jinan (1140–1197) in 1985 raised a number of pertinent
questions. The compass depicted in the arm of the two
clay figurines unearthed from the tomb has 16, not 24,
compass-points. Since the tomb was sealed in 1198, the
compass depicted here could not have been influenced
by those reintroduced from the West.
Both the dry-pivoted and floating compass were
used in Chinese ships. The choice was often based on
accuracy. It should be noted that, though the gyroscope
was invented in China around the first century BCE by
Ding Huan, no known reference to its use in connection
with the mariner’s compass is available.
See also: ▶Navigation, ▶Metallurgy, ▶Compass,
▶Shen Gua
References
Chen, Ding-Rong and Xu Jian-Chng. Jiangxi Linchuan-Xian
Song Mu (A Song Tomb in the Lin-chuan County, Jinagx
Province). Kao-Gu (Archaeology) 4 (1990): 329–34.
de Saussure, L. L’Origine de la Rose des Vents et 1’Invention
de la Boussole. Archives des Sciences Physiques et
Naturelles 5 (2 and 4), 1923.
Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China. Vol. 4,
Part I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962.
229–334.
Tsun, Ko. The Development of Metal Technology in Ancient
China. Science and Technology in Chinese Civilization.
Magnetism in Mesoamerica 1265
Ed. Cheng-Yih Chen. Singapore: World Scientific, 1987.
225–43.
Wang, Zhen-Duo. Sinan Zhinan Zhen yu Luo-Jing-Pan
(Discovery and Application of Magnetic Phenomena in
China). Zhong Guo Kao Gu Xue Bao (Chinese Journal of
Archaeology) 3 (1948): 119–260.
Wenren, Jun. Nan-Song Kan-Yu Han-Luo-Pan de Fa-Ming
zhi Fa-Xian (The Discovery of a South Song Pivoted
Compass). Kao-Gu (Archaeology) 12 (1981): 1127–31.
Magnetism in Mesoamerica
V INCENT H. M ALMSTRÖM
That the pre-Columbian peoples of Mesoamerica were
familiar with the property of magnetism has been sug-
gested by several researchers, among them the geogra-
pher Robert Fuson and the anthropologist Michael Coe.
Indeed, a flattened oblong piece of hematite discovered
during Coe’s excavation of the Olmec site of San
Lorenzo in southern Veracruz state in 1966 has been
thoroughly examined by John Carlson, who suggests
that it probably was fashioned for use as a compass. (In
tests, however, it never aligned more closely than about
35° with the Earth’s magnetic field.) In 1975, a basaltic
sculpture at the site of Izapa, on the Pacific coastal plain
of Mexico near the Guatemalan border, was found M
to possess a strong magnetic field. Variously described
as being the representation of either a frog (Norman
1976) or a turtle’s head (Malmström 1976), it has a
Magnetism in Mesoamerica. Fig. 1 The black volcanic
sands of the beaches near Izapa are the nesting place of
a deep-carapaced black turtle that migrates between the
Guatemalan coast and the Galápagos Islands. Perhaps local
fishermen associated magnetism with the homing instinct of
these creatures. Interestingly, the Chinese also associated
turtles with magnetism, using the term “black turtle rock” for
basalt and making their early compasses in the shape of
turtles. (Photo by the author.)
1266 Magnetism in Mesoamerica
north-seeking pole in its snout and a south-seeking pole
at the back of its head. The discovery led the latter
researcher to speculate that the stone’s carver may have
associated the property of magnetism with the homing
instinct of the turtle. Because it was the only magnetic
object found at the site, critics of the notion that it was a
human artifact argued that it may have been struck by
lightning and its magnetic field had been induced in
that manner (Fig. 1).
However, in 1979, several additional magnetic
sculptures were discovered in the Pacific coastal plain
Magnetism in Mesoamerica. Fig. 2 In the sculptures
known as the “Fat Boys,” magnetism appears to have been
associated with certain qualities of the human being. We can
only speculate that when the magnetic pole was located at the
navel, it may have symbolized the life force, or the continuity
of life, whereas when it was located in the right temple, it may
have represented consciousness, memory, or intellect. (Photo
by the author.)
Magnetism in Mesoamerica. Fig. 3 Because all evidence of magnetism in Mesoamerica is associated with basaltic sculptures
whose size prohibited their movement on more than a local scale, the knowledge of this property apparently was limited
to a small area of volcanism on the Pacific coastal plain of southernmost Mexico and adjacent Guatemala. (Map by the author.)
of Guatemala, including seven which now repose in the
central plaza of the town of La Democracia, and two
more which were identified at the nearby sugar
plantation of El Baúl. Those at La Democracia are
extremely crude depictions of human beings, and,
because of their rotundity, have been termed the “Fat
Boys” by archaeologists. When an entire body is
depicted, the two magnetic poles are usually found on
either side of the navel; when only a head is portrayed,
the two magnetic poles are almost invariably centered
on the right temple (Fig. 2).
The sculptures at El Baúl include a rampant jaguar,
with magnetic poles in each upraised paw, and a tablet
showing two men seated on a bench with their arms
folded over their chests. This single block of stone has
four magnetic poles, one north-seeking pole between
each of the men’s folded arms and one south-seeking
pole below each man in the space beneath the bench. In
1983 a small humanoid sculpture in the plaza of Tuxtla
Chica, Mexico, just back of Izapa, was found to be
magnetic in the right side of its head. Clearly, the
patterns of polarity discerned suggest a conscious intent
on the part of the sculptors to fashion their carvings
around a known center of magnetic attraction, for in
none of the stones has any inset of foreign material
been made. That such recurring patterns could have
been the result of random lightning strikes must also
be ruled out. Because the “Fat Boys” are considered
to date from 1500 to 2000 BCE, it is possible that
these sculptures represent the oldest known magnetic
artifacts in the world. But to what use, other than art
and magic, this knowledge was put, we have no answer
as yet (Fig. 3).

See also: ▶Compass
References
Carlson, John B. Lodestone Compass: Chinese or Olmec
Primacy? Science 189 (1975): 753–60.
Fuson, Robert H. The Orientation of Mayan Ceremonial
Centers. Annals of the Association of American Geogra-
phers 59 (1969): 508–10.
Malmström, V. H. Knowledge of Magnetism in Pre-
Columbian Mesoamerica. Nature 259.5542 (1976): 390–1.
---. Izapa, Birthplace of Time. ▶http://www.dartmouth.edu/
izapa
Norman, Garth. Izapa Sculpture. Papers of the New World
Archaeological Foundation, no. 30, 1976.
Mahādeva
K. V. S ARMA
Mahādeva (ca. 1275–1350) composed the extensive set
of planetary tables, Mahādevī, named after him and
dated 28th March, 1316. He belonged to a family of
astronomers and in his work Grahasiddhi describes
himself as the son of the astrologer Paraśurāma, son of
Padmanābha, son of Mādhava, son of Bhogadeva of the
Gautamagotra, a follower of Sāmaveda and a performer
of sacrifices. The planetary tables contained in the
Mahādevī, prepared for facilitating the computation of
the daily almanac, were extremely popular in the
Gujarat and Rajasthan regions, and numerous manu-
scripts of the work have been located in these places.
While the basic text was restricted to 43 verses, the
author himself wrote a set of instructions for using the
tables, called Grahasiddhi, which also were extensively
used. The popularity of Mahādevī is also attested to by
the several commentaries that were written on the work,
including that of Nr.sim. ha (1528), Dhanarāja (1635)
and Mādhava, and a host of anonymous commentators.
Mahādeva is a synonym of Śiva, one of the trinities of
Hinduism, and so formed one of the words commonly
used to name Hindus. There are several astronomers
of medieval India who bore the name Mahādeva.
Among these are: Mahādeva, younger brother of
Vit.t.hala, from Gujarat, author of Tithicakranirn.aya,
also called Tithinirn.aya, Tithiratna, and Mahādevasid-
dhānta; Mahādeva, author of Jātakāpaddhati, called
also Mahādevapaddhati after his name; Mahādeva, son
of Lun.iga and author of commentaries on the Cintāma-
n.isāran.ikā of Daśabala and the Jyotis.aratnamālā of
Śrīpati; Mahādeva of the Kaun.d. inyagotra, son of
Bopadeva, and author of Kāmadhenu called also
Tithikāmadhenu; Mahādeva, son of Kahnaji Vaidya,
author of Muhūrta-dīpaka in 57 verses, written in
1640, Praśnapradīpa called also Praśnaratna (1647),
Mahāvīra 1267
Bhāveśaphalapradīpa (1647), Kālanirn.ayasiddhānta
(1652), and a commentary on his own Muhūrtadīpaka
(1661); Mahādeva Pāt.haka (1842–1899), son of
.
Revāśankara, and author of Vars.adīpaka, called also
Varśadīpikā (1861), Jātakatattva, written in 1872, Pitr.
mārgapradīpa in 57 verses (1874), Vars.apaddhati, a
compilation (1874), and Āśubodhajyotis.a.
References
.
Dvivedi, Sudhakara. Gan.aka Tarangin.ī or Lives of Hindu
Astronomers: Ed. Padmakara Dvivedi. Benares: Jyotish
Prakash Press, 1933.
Pingree, David. Sanskrit Astronomical Tables in the United
States. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society
58.3 (1968): 1–77.
---. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit. Ser. A, Vol, 4.
Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1981.
Mahāvı̄ra
R. C. G UPTA
The Rās.trakūt.a dynasty of the medieval period was
founded in the Deccan, South India, by Dantidurga
about the middle of the eighth century AD. A king of
this dynasty named Amoghavars.a ruled from AD 815 M
to 877. The long period of his rule is known for its
material prosperity, political stability, and academic
fertility. He was rich, powerful, and peace-loving, and
he patronized art and learning.
In the later part of Amoghavars.a’s reign there lived a
great mathematician named Mahāvīrācārya. Mahāvīra
was a Digambara Jaina and wrote an extensive Sanskrit
.
treatise called Gan.itasāra sangraha (Compendium of
the Essence of Mathematics) about AD 850. It is
devoted to elementary topics in arithmetic, algebra,
geometry, mensuration, etc. The work is important
because it is a collection summarizing elementary
mathematics of his time and providing a rich source of
information on ancient Indian mathematics. It is written
in the style of a textbook and was used as one for
centuries in all of South India. Its importance is greater
still because the Pāt. īgan.ita of Śrīdhara (ca. AD 750),
.
written in the same style as the Gan.itasāra sangraha, is
not extant in full.
Mahāvīra shows sufficient originality not only in
presenting older material lucidly, but also in introducing
several new topics. A commentary called Bālabodha in
Kannada was written by Daivajña Vallabha. A Sanskrit
commentary was composed by Varadarāja. Dates for
these two commentators are not known, nor are their
works available in print. There were other translations in
the eleventh century and in 1842.
1268 Mahāvīra
.
The nine chapters of the Gan.itasāra sangraha are as
follows:
1. Terminology (70 verses)
2. Arithmetical operations (115 verses)
3. Operations involving fractions (140 verses)
4. Miscellaneous operations (72 verses)
5. Rule of three (43 verses)
6. Mixed operations (3371/2 verses)
7. Geometry and mensuration (2321/2 verses)
8. Excavations (681/2 verses)
9. Shadows (521/2 verses)
The total number of verses, 1,131, shows that the book is
quite comprehensive. Another noteworthy feature is that
the Jaina tradition of Indian mathematics is also preserved
. for about 800 years to acquire the powerful tool of
within the scope of the Gan.itasāra sangraha.
The authorship of the astronomical work Jyotis.-
apat. ala is also ascribed to Mahāvīra. Some manu-
scripts of this title are mentioned in the Jina-ratna-kośa
and the New Catalogus Catalogorum, but no author is
mentioned. Another work attributed to him is Chattisu,
but this is also a sort of elaboration of part of the
. 2
Gan.itasāra sangraha made by Mādhavacandra Traivi-
dya (about AD 1000). Whatever the case, the reputation
of Mahāvīra relies solely on his magnum opus.
During ancient times, unit fractions were considered
quite important. There are some interesting results in
.
the Gan.itasāra sangraha on this topic. One rule gives a
practical method for expressing any given fraction as a
sum of unit fractions. Let p/q be the given fraction
( p being less than q). We add a suitable integer x to q
such that (q + x) become exactly divisible by p, say, r
times. Then Mahāvīra’s rule is
p 1 x like solids, Mahāvīra gave a generalization of Brahma-
¼ þ :
q r ðr  qÞ
Mahāvīra made a very significant remark in connection
with the square-root of a negative number. He said “A
negative number is non-square by its nature, whence
there is no (real) square-root from it.”
This remark is the first clear recognition of the
imaginary quantities in mathematics which had to wait
for several more centuries for their formal definition.
Mahāvīra was one of the earliest Indian mathema-
ticians to deal with the lowest common multiple which
he calls niruddha. It was evolved to simplify operations
with fractions.
Arithmetical and geometrical progressions were
already handled earlier. An extensive treatment is
. Arhat Vacana 3.1 (1991): 1–26 (in Hindi).
available in the Gan.itasāra sangraha. In the absence of
modern theories of logarithms and equations, problems
were solved by methods of trial and repetition.
Mahāvīra seemed to be expert in handling all sorts of
equations reducible to quadratic forms and gave a
variety of examples of them.
In mensurational problems in geometry, Mahāvīra
usually gave two rules: one for rough and the other for
better or accurate results. He dealt with all the usual
plane figures. p ffiffiffiffiffiπ, he conformed to the Jaina values 3
For
(rough), and 10 (better). He was the first Indian to
deal with mensuration related to an ellipse which he
calls āyata-vr.tta (elongated circle), but his rules are
approximate.
For an ellipse of semimajor and semiminor axes his
“accurate” results are:
pffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
Area ¼ b ð4a2 þ 6b2 Þ;
pffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
Perimeter ¼ ð16a2 þ 24b2 Þ:
For the exact rectification of the ellipse, one had to wait
calculus. In this situation Mahāvīra’s first attempt is to
be appreciated.
Regarding the volume of a sphere of radius r,
Mahāvīra gave the formula
9
v ¼ r3 ;
which was the practical rule of Jaina tradition. He gave
another rule for the purpose, but it gives a better result
only with an emendment of the text. For the curved
surface of a spherical segment, his rule has been newly
interpreted to yield the formula
S ¼
r2  sin ;
where θ is the semiangle subtended by a diameter of the
base of the segment at the center of the sphere. This
peculiar formula gives quite a good result in all
practical cases (i.e., for θ up to 60°). The modern exact
formula is 2πr2(1 − cos θ). For the volume of frustum-
gupta’s rule based on the theory of averages.
In the end we mention Mahāvīra’s extensive
contribution to the formation of rational figures. He
calls a triangle or quadrilateral janya (generated) when
its sides, altitudes, and other important measures can be
expressed in terms of rational numbers.
See also: ▶Śrīdhara
References
Datta, B. On Mahāvīra’s Solution of Rational Triangles and
Quadrilaterals. Bulletin of the Calcutta Mathematical
Society 20 (1928–1929): 267–94.
Dube, Mahesh. Poet and Mathematician Mahāvīrācārya.
Gupta, R. C. Mahāvīrācārya on the Perimeter and Area of an
Ellipse. Mathematics Education 8.1B (1974): 17–9.
---. Mahāvīrācārya’s Rule for the Surface-Area of a Spherical
Segment. Tulasī Prajñā 1.2 (1975): 63–6.
---. Mahāvīrācārya’s Rule for Volume of Frustum-Like
Solids. Aligarh Journal of Oriental Studies 3.1 (1986): 31–8.

---. The Mahāvīrā-Fibonacci Device to Reduce p/q to Unit
Fractions. HPM Newsletter 29 (1993): 10–2.
.
Jain, L. C., ed. The Gan.itasāra sangraha (with Hindi
translation). Sholapur: Jain Sanskriti Sanraksaka Sangh,
1963.
Jain, Anupam and S. C. Agrawal. Mahāvīrācārya: A Critical
Study. Hastinapur, Meerut: Digambar Jain Cosmographical
Research Institute, 1985 (in Hindi).
Majaprajna, Acharya. Mahavira’s Scripture of Health. Ed.
Muni Dulah Raj and Muni Dhananjaya Kumar. Trans.
Sarla Jag Mohan. Churu, Rajasthan: Adarsh Sahitya
Sangh, 2000.
. .
Rangacharya, M., ed. and trans. Gan.itasāra sangraha of
Mahāvīrācārya. Madras: Government Press, 1912.
Sarasvati, T. A. Mahāvīra’s Treatment of Series. Journal of
the Ranchi University I (1962): 39–50.
Mahendra Sūri
K. V. S ARMA
Mahendra Sūri, Jain astronomer, and pupil of Madana
Sūri, was a protégé of the progressive minded Sultan
Fīrūz Shāh Tuglaq, who ruled in Delhi from AD 1351
to 1388. The Sultan was one of the pioneers of the
cultural exchange between Hindus and Muslims and
was much interested in astronomy. His most important
contribution in this field was the introduction of the
astrolabe into India from the Islamic world. He induced
Mahendra Sūri to study the astrolabe and familiarize
Indian astronomers with the instrument through the
Sanskrit language. This persuasion resulted in Mahendra
Sūri’s writing the Yantrarāja (King of Instruments), in
1370, the first work written in Sanskrit on the astrolabe.
The Yantrarāja sets out in five chapters the theory of
the astrolabe, the construction of the instrument with its
several planes and designs, and lines, circles, and other
markings to be made on the planes while making the
instrument and graduating it for making observations
and recordings. It is to be noted that Mahendra Sūri first
describes the ordinary astrolabe, which he calls saumya-
yantra (northern instrument), wherein the astrolabe is
projected from the south pole, and then the yāmya-
yantra (southern instrument), where the instrument is
projected from the north pole. He then introduces a
.
miśra (mixed) instrument, which he calls phaonīndra-
yantra (the serpentine instrument), wherein the two
types are combined.
The commentary on the Yantrarāja by the author’s
pupil, Malayendu Sūri (fl. 1377) explains the practical
application of the instrument for taking readings. He
also provides tables of the latitudes of about 75 cities in
and outside India, and also one for 32 fixed stars. In this
connection the commentator says that the Muslims
have recorded more than 1,022 stars, but that he has
Makaranda 1269
selected only 32, being those required for practical use
in Indian astronomy and astrology. There is still another
commentary on the work, which is more elaborate than
that of Malayendu Sūri, written by Gopīrāja about AD
1540, which is still in manuscript form.
See also: ▶Astronomy in India, ▶Astronomical Instru-
ments in India, ▶Astrolabe
References
.
Dvivedi, Sudhakara. Ganaka Tarangin.ī or Lives of Hindu
Astronomers. Ed. Padmakara Dvivedi. Benares: Jyotish
Prakash Press, 1933.
Pingree, David. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit.
Series A, Vol. 4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical
Society, 1981.
Yantrarāja of Mahendra-guru with the commentary of
Malayendu Sūri, along with the Yantraśiromai of Viśrāma.
Ed. K. K. Raikwa. Bombay: Nirnaya Sagar Press, 1936.
Yantrarāja of Mahendra Sūri, with the commentary of
Malayendu Sūri. Jodhpur: Rajasthan Prachyavidya Shodh
Samsthan, 1936.
Makaranda
K. V. S ARMA
M
Makaranda was a resident of Kāśī (or Benares,
Varanasi). In AD 1478 he wrote an extensive astro-
nomical manual with the title Makaranda. This was
doubly significant, first because the title was reminis-
cent of his own name, and, second because it called the
computed result obtained makaranda (honey), and
gave the several astronomical terms names of parts of
plants, such as guccha (flower cluster), kanda (bulb),
vallī and latā (creeper), and the like. Makaranda based
his work on the parameters of and practices prescribed
by the modern Sūryasiddhānta, to which he added
certain corrections to insure greater accuracy, and
provided a number of astronomical tables for ease in
computing the daily almanac.
Makaranda’s tables, which are often long and extend
to several centuries, involved much labor and ingenuity
in their preparation. They cover such subjects as tithi
(lunar day, five tables), naks.atras (asterisms, four
tables), yogas (complementary positions of the sun and
the moon, three tables), san.krāntis (entry of the sun
into the zodiacal signs, three tables), mean motion of
planets and their anomalies (11 tables), length of
daylight on different days (one table), weekdays (two
tables), and eclipses and allied matter (ten tables).
In order to render the work of the user easier,
Makaranda provides, in certain cases, two sets of tables,
one for single years and the other for groups of years,
1270 Maps and mapmaking in Africa
all from the epoch date of the commencement of Śaka
year 1400 (AD 1478). Thus, when calculations are
made for a date which is several years after the epoch,
multiples of the group-years can be skipped, just taking
note of the readings for the number of group-years
skipped and applying the same to the relevant year of
the current group. In the case of tithis the group is taken
as 16 years; for naks.atras and yogas, it is nearly 600
years, from AD 1478 to 2054, in 24 year periods. For
the precession of the equinoxes, it is nearly 100 years,
from AD 1758 to 1838, in 20-year periods, and for
san.krāntis for 400 years, from AD 1478 to 1877, in
57-year periods.
Makaranda’s tables were widely used in the entire
northern belt of India, comprised of Gujarat, Rajasthan,
Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Bengal, as attested by the
profusion of manuscripts of the work found in this
region. The work has also been commented on by
several authors, from D.hun.d. irāja (fl. 1590), through
Purusottama Bhatta (fl. 1610), Divākara (fl. 1606), and
Kr.pakara Miśra (fl. 1815), to Nīlāmbara Jhā (b. 1823).
The Siddhāntasudhā of Paramānanda Th.akkura is
based on the work of Makaranda.
See also: ▶Sūryasiddhānta, ▶Lunar Mansions,
▶Astronomy in India
References
.
Dvivedi, Sudhākara. Gan.aka Tarangin.ī or Lives of Hindu
Astronomers. Ed. Padmakara Dvivedi. Benares: Jyotish
Prakash Press, 1933.
Makaranda with the T.īkā of Gokulanātha. Divākara and
Viśvanātha. Kasi: Benarsi Press, 1884.
Pingree, David. Makaranda. Transactions of the American
Philosophical Society 58.3 (1968): 39–46.
Pingree, David. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit.
Series A, Vol. 4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical
Society, 1981.
Maps and Mapmaking in Africa
T HOMAS J. B ASSETT
With the exception of medieval Islamic mapmaking,
the corpus of precolonial African maps is too small for
us to generalize about distinctive cartographic tradi-
tions. B. F. Adler (1910) provides the only summary of
sub-Saharan mapping, and most of his examples are
maps solicited from Africans by European explorers.
The paucity of extant maps may be explained by a
number of factors. First, among literate cultures like the
Muslim Hausa and Jula of West Africa, there existed
effective substitutes such as travel guides written in
Arabic script. These commonly took the form of
itineraries that listed the names of towns between a
starting point and destination (e.g., the road from Bornu
to Mecca). In 1824 Joseph Dupuis provided examples of
these “native charts” kept by merchants and pilgrims
which he used to construct his own maps of West Africa.
Second, the scarcity of maps in nonliterate societies
may be explained by a common recourse to drawing
maps on the ground. European explorers witnessed this
indigenous form of mapmaking and were frequently
impressed by its accuracy. However, the ephemeral
nature of ground maps has left us with few traces of
this apparently widespread practice (see below). Third,
the demand for maps was probably very limited because
of the hazards of traveling beyond one’s territory. Even
merchants risked being captured by neighboring groups
if they did not travel in caravans, carry letters of
introduction, or have contacts in distant communities.
Under these circumstances, there was little demand for
maps as conveyors of geographical knowledge to
outsiders. Finally, in searching for African maps, we
should be wary of looking for Western forms of mapping
in societies whose spatial concepts and relationships
to land are fundamentally different. Western maps are
constructed upon culturally specific notions of property,
territory, and political authority over bounded areas.
One should not assume a priori that African peoples hold
these concepts. Moreover, as Paul Bohannan shows
in his discussion of the “genealogical map” of the Tiv
of central Nigeria and the “rain shrine neighborhoods”
of the Tonga of Zambia, there is tremendous variety
within Africa itself in the conceptualization of space.
Rarely does one find the expression of socio-spatial
relationships in two-dimensional maps. Despite this
restricted development of mapmaking in precolonial
Africa, there are a number of interesting maps to
consider.
One of the earliest examples of African mapmaking
is an Egyptian map dating from about 1150 BCE.
Fragments of the picture map depicting the Wadi
Hammamat area between Thebes and the Red Sea port
of Quseir are preserved on papyrus in the Muzeo Egizio
at Turin. Other ancient Egyptian examples include
plans of gardens and maps of the afterlife painted on
stone during the second millennium BCE.
One of the foremost cartographers of the Middle
Ages was al-Sharīf al-Idrīsī. He was born in Ceuta,
Morocco, in 493 AH/AD 1100 and is believed to have
died there in 560/1165. He was the court geographer
of the Norman king of Sicily, Roger II, for whom
he wrote his celebrated Nuzhat al-mushtāq f ī’ khtirāq
al-āfāq (The Book of Pleasant Journeys into Faraway
Lands, also known as the Book of Roger). This work
contains a world map and 70 sectional maps that build
upon both the Balkhī and Ptolemaic cartographic
traditions. Although written in the twelfth century,

al-Idrīsī’s work was still influential five centuries later
among North African chartmakers. The portolan charts of
the al-Sharafī al-S.ifāqsī family that thrived in the Tunisian
town of Sfax for over eight generations are compilations
based on al-Idrīsī and Catalan sea charts.
A distinctive form of schematic mapping dating from
the eighteenth century is represented in Ethiopian
manuscript maps of Tigre (Fig. 1). These maps consist
of three concentric circles in which Aksum, the center of
Ethiopian Christiandom, is situated in a box in the
innermost circle, as in the figure here; the outer circles
are divided into segments that contain the cardinal
directions and the names of outlying districts. At least five
versions of this map are known to exist, two of which are
found in the manuscript titled Kebrä Nägäst (The Glory
of Kings). Below the circle map is a “wheel of wind” or
“wind rose” in which the cardinal directions are again
Maps and Mapmaking in Africa. Fig. 1 Ethiopian map of
Tigre. From the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Collection
Antoine d’ Abbadie 225 fol. 3-cliché A85/489.
Maps and mapmaking in Africa 1271
shown with east at the top. More research is needed to
examine the relationships between these circle maps and
the texts in which they are found.
Evidence of African maps and mapmaking in
the nineteenth century is largely found in European
accounts of exploration and travel. In many instances,
African mapmaking was stimulated by European
interest in the geography of unexplored areas. A well-
known example is the map drawn by Sultan Bello for
Hugh Clapperton during his visit to the Sokoto
Caliphate in 1824. Clapperton was particularly interes-
ted in the course of the Niger River whose outlet was
one of the great geographical mysteries of the day.
Sultan Bello drew a map in the sand showing the
Niger’s course and later reproduced this map on paper
which Clapperton published in the account of his
journey. Although dismissed by some Europeans as a
“rude representation,” Bello’s map and geographical
writings were valued by later explorers like Heinrich
Barth in 1859. His map is also of interest because it
demonstrates the “rule of ethnocentricity” common to
most mapmaking traditions, in which the territory of a
cultural group – in this case the Sokoto Caliphate – is
placed in the middle of the map.
There are many other examples of Africans drawing
maps on the ground in response to European questions
on the geography of a particular region. The explorer
Charles Beke was shown the incorrect course of the
Gojab River south of Abyssinia by a Muslim merchant
M
named Hádji Mohammed Núr who drew its course on
the ground with his stick. In 1881, the Bohemian doctor
Emile Holub recounts a similar experience when
traveling in the mid-1870s in the Marutse Empire of
the upper Zambezi River. Before leaving to explore
the headwaters of the Zambezi, Holub asked the
Maurtse chief, Sepopo, to suggest a good travel route.
To Holub’s great interest, Sepopo drew a map in the
sand whose accuracy was confirmed by two other
persons familiar with the area. While on a frontier
reconnaissance mission in the dense tropical forests of
southeastern Liberia in 1899, the French explorer Capt.
Henri d’Ollone asked a person named Tooulou to draw
on the ground with a piece of charcoal the distribution
of the different ethnic groups in the region. After a
moment’s reflection and to d’Ollone’s great surprise,
Toolou drew a detailed ground map showing the
location of villages, rivers, and mountains, as well as
ethnic groups. The information gained from solicited
maps was occasionally incorporated into European
maps. For example, sections of the map of the Sahara
produced by the French geographer Henri Duveyrier
in 1864 were based on maps drawn in the sand
by “Cheikh-‘Othmàn.” The German geographer Karl
Weule preserved the maps he solicited by requesting
that they be drawn on paper that he provided. Three of
these solicited maps are found in Adler’s 1910 book.
1272 Maps and mapmaking in Africa
Among the Luba of central Africa, ephemeral maps
were a common feature of initiation ceremonies. During
one stage, the initiate is taken into a meetinghouse where
elders have chalked maps on the wall showing major
lakes and rivers, the location of various chiefdoms, and
the dwelling places of spirits. While facing the map,
initiates are quizzed about the residence of certain chiefs
and spirits within the Luba kingdom. In the final stage
of initiation, elders teach initiates about the origins of
Luba kingship and customary taboos. In recounting the
origin myths, elders use memory boards (lukasa) as
mnemonic devices to aid their storytelling. These small
rectangular boards are covered with beads and shells
that map the migration history of the founding royal
family. Rivers and villages are represented by the
patterning of beads and shells into configurations that
are recognizable to initiates.
An example of cosmographical mapping is found
among the Bakongo of Zaïre in their initiation and
funerary art. The Kongo cosmos is pictured ideograph-
ically as the sun moving through four phases: dawn,
noon, sunset, and midnight. The cosmogram is com-
posed of a cross representing the cardinal directions
with a small circle at each end point. The horizontal
line (kalunga) divides the realms of the living and the
dead through which all persons travel. Only the most
courageous and generous in life return as immortal
spirits in natural forms and forces in the landscape.
A more secular and ambitious mapmaking took
place in the Kingdom of Bamum in contemporary
western Cameroun under the leadership of King Njoya.
Njoya stands out as a highly creative and politically
astute individual who collaborated with a succession of
German, British, and French authorities to consolidate
his rule. He was responsible for developing an alphabet
Maps and Mapmaking in Africa. Fig. 2 King Njoya’s map. From the Public Record Office, Kew, CO 649/7 (Crown
copyright reserved).
which enabled him to write the history of his kingdom
in his own language. He also appears to have been a
self-taught mapmaker whose earliest preserved work
(1906) is composed of a plan of his farm and a route
map between Fumban, the capital of Bamum, and his
fields. Njoya further honed his mapmaking skills when
the German cartographer Moisel visited Bamum in
1908. One of Njoya’s most impressive mapping
projects was a topographic survey of his kingdom that
employed up to 60 individuals. When the British took
control of western Cameroun from the Germans in
1916, Njoya displayed his political skills by presenting
a map of his kingdom to the British political officer
stationed in Foumban. This map with its southerly
orientation shows a well-defined territory in which all
roads lead to the royal capital and historic center of
political authority (Fig. 2). In his letter to the King of
England that accompanies the map, Njoya seeks British
protection against the Germans. In this context, Njoya’s
map becomes an instrument of power that legitimates
his (contested) claim to be the ruler of Bamum and
symbolizes his willingness to collaborate with colonial
authorities.
In conclusion, the dearth of African maps seems to
imply that mapmaking was not a common means of
expressing spatial information. One could even argue
that the maps solicited by explorers reflected European
mapping traditions rather than African custom. How-
ever, the ability of individuals from across the conti-
nent to produce consistently accurate ground maps
suggests that this was an indigenous practice. Ironi-
cally, these ephemeral maps led to the drawing of
new and improved maps of Africa by Europeans who
ultimately employed them in their partition of the
continent into colonies.

See also: ▶al-Idrīsī, ▶Balkhī School
References
Adler, B. F. Karty Piervobytnyh Narodov, Izviestia Impier-
atorskavo Obshchestva Lubitielei Estiestvoznania, Antro-
pologii i Etnografi, sostoyaszchavo pri Impieratorskom
Moskovskom Universitietie, Tom 119. St Petersburg, Trudy
Geograficheskavo Otdielienia, Vypusk II, 1910.
Ahmad, S. Maqbul. Cartography of al-Sharif al-Idrsi. The
History of Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 1. Cartography in
the Traditional Islamic and South Asian Societies. Ed.
J. Brian Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1992. 156–74.
Bohannan, Paul. ‘Land’, ‘Tenure’ and Land Tenure. African
Agrarian Systems. Ed. Daniel Biebuyck. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1963. 101–12.
Denham, Major, Captain Clapperton, and Dr. Oudney.
Narrative of Travels and Discoveries in Northern Central
Africa in the Years 1822, 1823 and 1824. London: John
Murray, 1826.
Dupuis, Joseph. Journal of a Residence in Ashantee. London:
Frank Cass & Co., 1966.
Pankhurst, Alula. An Early Ethiopian Manuscript Map of
Tegré. Proceedings of the 8th International Conference
of Ethiopian Studies, University of Addis Ababa, 1984.
Vol. 2. Ed. Tadesse Beyene. Addis Ababa: Institute of
Ethiopian Studies, 1989. 73–88.
Reefe, Thomas. Lukasa: A Luba Memory Device. African
Arts 10.4 (1977): 48–50, 88.
Shore, A. F. Egyptian Cartography. The History of Cartogra-
phy. Vol. 1. Cartography in Prehistoric, Ancient, and
Medieval Europe and the Mediterranean. Ed. J. Brian
Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1987. 117–29.
Struck, Bernhard. Köing Ndschoya von Bamum als Topograph.
Globus 94 (1908): 206–9.
Thompson, Robert F. and Joseph Cornet. The Four Moments
of the Sun: Kongo Art in Two Worlds. Washington:
National Gallery of Art, 1981.
Maps and Mapmaking in Ancient
Egypt
H ANS B ARNARD
Maps, plans and models present a reduced version of
the real world, either existing or anticipated, by
incorporating selected properties of reality, while
intentionally disregarding others. The selection process
is governed by the purpose of the final result. Maps
and plans are two-dimensional representations of a
three-dimensional reality, usually drawn at a smaller
scale. This scale need not be uniform for a map to be
useful, as clearly shown by the map of the London
Underground, and can in special cases be 1 : 1 or even
larger than reality. Selected details are replaced by
Maps and mapmaking in Ancient Egypt 1273
symbols (such as the circles representing cities on a
modern map of the world) or ignored (like individual
buildings on the same map of the world). Other features
are given a distinctive appearance (such as the color of
the highways on a modern roadmap) or size (like the
exaggerated width of the roads on the same roadmap).
Many maps, plans and models are not in fact based on
the real world, but rather predate reality which is then
changed to fit such designs, blueprints, mock-ups or
prototypes. These must have been as perplexing to
members of an ancient culture as the Ancient Egyptian
maps of the Netherworld, depicting the geography
encountered in the afterlife, are to us. Maps and plans
from different periods or cultures may not only have an
unexpected subject matter, but the scale, symbols and
orientation are often very different from what we are
used to. Likewise, our convention of having North at
the top of a map would not have been understood in
Ancient Egypt as this would have the water of the Nile
flowing up.
Maps were most likely used in Ancient Egypt since
the beginning of the Old Kingdom (2575–2150 BCE
according to the chronology of Baines and Malek 2000:
36–37). There are no unambiguous examples of maps
from this early period, but there is ample evidence
that at least certain members of Ancient Egyptian
society were able to create and understand reduced
representations of reality (Harrell 2001; Shore 1987).
On the well-known Predynastic Narmer palette (dated
M
about 3000 BCE, found in Hierakonpolis, now in the
Egyptian Museum in Cairo) one of the images seems to
represent a walled city in bird’s eye view (Fig. 1). This is
obviously not a map in the modern sense, nor is it meant
to be, but nevertheless a representation of a geographical
reality (a walled city) in a way in which it would not
have presented itself to the artist (but rather in bird’s eye
view). Other early examples of maps include the
“topographic design” on a Predynastic ceramic vessel
(3700–3100 BCE, provenance unknown, now in the
Petrie Museum in London), clearly showing rivers
and mountains, and the very schematic “Map of
the Netherworld” in the wooden coffin of General
Sepi of the 12th Dynasty (1938–1755 BCE, found in
al-Bersha, now in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo),
showing the landscape awaiting the deceased according
to the “Book of the Two Ways.” (Fig. 2). Such
“mythological” maps do not seem to have a complement
in reality, but they must be placed in Ancient Egyptian
perspective in which the Netherworld must have been
deemed a physical reality and objects could magically
obtain a measure of reality just by having been drawn.
A remarkable find from the third Dynasty
(2650–2757 BCE) is a sketch of a vaulted roof (on a
piece of pottery found in Sakkara, now in the Egyptian
Museum in Cairo) on which the lengths of the
(temporary) supports or (permanent) beams necessary
1274 Maps and mapmaking in Ancient Egypt
Maps and Mapmaking in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 1 Bird’s
eye representation of a walled city on the reverse of the
Predynastic Narmer Palette (about 3000 BCE), found in
Hierakonpolis, now in the Egyptian Museum (image courtesy
of Eternal Egypt ▶http://www.eternalegypt.org/ created and
maintained by the Egyptian Center for Documentation of
Cultural and Natural Heritage and IBM).
Maps and Mapmaking in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 2 Map
of the Netherworld, illustrating the Book of Two Ways, in
the coffin of General Sepi (12th Dynasty, 1938–1755 BCE),
found in al-Bersha, now in the Egyptian Museum
(image courtesy of Eternal Egypt ▶http://www.eternalegypt.
org/ created and maintained by the Egyptian Center
for Documentation of Cultural and Natural Heritage
and IBM).
to build such a vault are clearly indicated in numbers
(Arnold 1991; Edwards 1993). Several more elaborate
plans of buildings survive from the Middle Kingdom
(1975–1640 BCE). Some were apparently meant as
architectural plan, such as the drawing of a garden or a
temple on a paving slab from the temple of Pharaoh
Mentuhotep of the 11th Dynasty (1975–1940 BCE,
found in Luxor, now in the Metropolitan Museum of
Art in New York), others seem to depict an existing
structure, such as the drawing of his granaries inside the
coffin of General Sepi (Arnold 1991; Peck 1978). Many
models, mostly of workshops and boats, are known
from the Middle Kingdom, for example the exquisite
series of models from the tomb of chancellor and chief
steward Meketre of the 11th Dynasty (1960–1948 BCE,
found in Luxor, now partly in the Metropolitan Museum
of Art in New York and partly in the Egyptian Museum
in Cairo). Plans and models may not only have been
used during the building of a structure, but alternatively
to demonstrate its appearance to the client or as a votive
item to offer to the gods (Arnold 1991).
As with many other aspects of Ancient Egyptian
society, most of our information on ancient maps and
plans dates to the New Kingdom (1539–1075 BCE).
Examples of mythological maps from this period
include those of the Netherworld, for instance in the
tomb of Sennedjem in Deir al-Medina dating to the
19th Dynasty (1292–1190 BCE) and as an illustration
with Spell 110 of the Papyrus of Any (19th Dynasty,
found in Luxor, now in the British Museum in
London). These maps are based on texts from the
“Book of the Dead” (or the “Book of Going Forth Day
by Day”). Astronomical (or astrological?) maps can be
found painted on the ceiling of the tombs of the royal
architect Senmut in Deir al-Bahri (near Luxor), dated
around 1450 BCE, and of Pharaoh Seti I of the 19th
Dynasty (1290–1279 BCE) in the Valley of the Kings.
These display individual stars and the signs that were
associated with them, which are markedly different from
the Mesopotamian signs that are used today (Wells
1999). A cosmographical map was carved in the lid
of the stone sarcophagus of Uresh-nefer of the 30th
Dynasty (380–343 BCE, found in Sakkara, now in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York). This
complicated image shows the goddess Nut, representing
the sky, bending herself over an image of the world,
depicted as two concentric disks. The god Shu,
representing light and air, is also shown, directing the
sun in its course (Hernandez Marin 1992–1994).
There are several plans of buildings and gardens
preserved from this period. Some seem likely to depict
actual structures, such as the plan of a house in the
tomb of Djehuty-nefer and the plan of a garden in
the tomb of Sennefer (both in Luxor and dating to the
18th Dynasty, 1539–1992 BCE), others appear to have

served as architectural plans. Examples of the latter
include part of a plan of a tomb, possibly that of
Ramesses IV, on a length of papyrus (1156–1150 BCE,
found in Luxor, now in the Museo Egizio in Turin) and
another plan of a tomb, possibly that of Ramesses IX,
on a flake of limestone (1126–1108 BCE, found in
Luxor, now in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo). These
plans are not drawn to scale, but have the measure-
ments that were evidently deemed important, written
out. Another remarkable feature is that the elevations,
rather than ground plans, are shown of the passages
between the rooms. The fact that such features occur on
both plans indicate that these were most likely drawn to
certain rules, much like modern architectural plans, but
with different conventions.
The first unequivocal maps also date back to the
New Kingdom. One depicts the events during the battle
between the most famous Pharaoh of the 19th Dynasty
Ramesses II (1279–1213 BCE) and the Hittite king
Muwatallis at Qadesh (near modern Homs in Syria) in
May 1274 BCE (Baines and Malek 2000: 202–203).
Examples of this map can be found, among other
places, on the first pylon of Luxor Temple and on the
northern wall of the great pillared hall of the Great
Temple in Abu Simbel. Shown are the Orontes, the city
of Qadesh and the placement of the troops.
A second map from this period, drawn on a length of
papyrus found in Deir al-Medina (near Luxor), is most
reminiscent of a modern map (Harrell 2001; Shore
1987). It shows the gold mines, stone quarries and
settlements in the Wadi Hammamat area, about halfway
between Luxor and Quseir (on the Red Sea coast), and
can be considered the oldest known geological map
(Harrell and Brown 1992). The map, now kept by the
Maps and Mapmaking in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 3 The Eastern part of a topographical and geological map of Wadi
Hammamat, in the desert between the Nile and the Red Sea, drawn on papyrus around 1150 BCE (kept in the Museo Egizio
in Turin, photograph used with the kind permission of J. A. Harrell).
Maps and mapmaking in Ancient Egypt 1275
Museo Egizio in Turin, was probably prepared by
Amennakhte, son of Ipuy, for Pharaoh Ramesses IV
(1156–1150 BCE) of the 20th Dynasty (Fig. 3).
Another ancient map with a modern appearance is
from the Zenon Archive, dating to the Greco-Roman
period (332 BCE–395 CE). This map was found on a
length of papyrus recovered from the cartonnage of a
mummy unearthed at the necropolis of Ghoran and is
now kept in the Institut de Papyrologie de la Sorbonne in
Paris (Harrell 2001; Shore 1987). It shows a schematic
plan of the dikes and canals on a plot of land in the
Fayum, an oasis southwest of Cairo, belonging to
Apollonius, head of civil administration under Ptolemy
II Philadelphus (285–246 BCE). Astronomical ceilings
from this period have been preserved in, for instance,
the temples of Edfu and Esna as well as in the Hathor
Temple in Denderah (now in the Musée du Louvre in
Paris). These show both Egyptian stars, similar to those
in the tombs of Semnut and Seti I, and the Hellenistic
version of the Mesopotamian zodiac, a fusion that had
started during the 27th Dynasty (525–404 BCE), the
“Persian Period.” The belief that the position of
the stars can influence human destiny was probably
introduced at a later date.
Alexandria was the capital of Egypt during the
Greco-Roman period and by far the most powerful and
influential city in the region. Thanks to the patronage
of the Ptolemaic rulers and the renowned library of
Alexandria (with about 500,000 “books”) scholarly and
M
scientific knowledge advanced greatly. This was partly
fueled by a renewed onomastic tradition, compiling
existing knowledge in long lists. One of the librarians
of Alexandria was Eratosthenes, born in Cyrene
(Libya) and brought to Egypt by Ptolemy III Euergetes
1276 Maps and mapmaking of the Australian Aboriginal people
(246–221 BCE) as a tutor for his son. He is said to have
collected a comprehensive geography of the then
known world, which is lost but was cited extensively
by the Greek geographer Strabo (63 BCE–24 CE).
Eratosthenes was also the first to attempt to calculate
the circumference of the earth, by comparing the
difference in the height of the sun in Alexandria and
in Aswan, and came surprisingly close to the actual
figure (Berthon and Robinson 1991). A compilation of
geographical and astronomical knowledge that did
survive is that of Claudius Ptolemy, an Egyptian who
lived and worked in Alexandria around 150–200 CE
(Dilke 1987: 177–200). His works form the basis of
many early Arabic and European maps, especially after
some of his works were rediscovered at the end of the
thirteenth century CE in Istanbul (Constantinople) by
the monk Maximus Planudes (Berthon and Robinson
1991).
The first maps of Egypt by outsiders were drawn
in the early Christian period and have been preserved
in, for instance, the fifth century CE “Nile mosaic,” in
Zippori (Sepphoris) in Israel, and the “Mosaic Map”
in Madaba (Jordan). The early Christian view of the
world that was developed by Cosmas Indicopleustes
(“India traveler”) also has its roots in Egypt. Born in
Alexandria in the sixth century CE, Cosmas was a
merchant who, according to his moniker, traveled
extensively. Later in life he converted to Christianity
and settled in Saint Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai.
There he wrote Christian Topography, in which he
describes the world as a chest, owned by God, of which
the lid is the sky and the bottom holds the lands and the
seas. The sun orbits a large mountain rising from the
bottom of the chest and casting a shadow that is
responsible for the night (Dilke 1987: 261–263;
Berthon and Robinson 1991). This seems a rather
unsatisfactory conclusion of a development that started
over 3,000 years earlier and had already resulted in the
brilliant works of Amennakhte and Eratosthenes.
References
Arnold, D. Building in Egypt. Pharaonic Stone Masonry.
New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.
Baines, J. and J. Malek. Cultural Atlas of Ancient Egypt.
1980. Oxford: Andromeda, 2000 (revised edition).
Berthon, S. and A. Robinson. The Shape of the World.
London: Guild Publishing, 1991.
Dilke, O. A. W. The Culmination of Greek Cartography
in Ptolemy and Cartography in the Byzantine Empire. The
History of Cartography. Vol. I. Ed. J. B. Harley and D.
Woodward. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.
177–200 and 258–75.
Edwards, I. E. S. Pyramids of Egypt. 1947. Harmondsworth:
Penguin Books, 1993 (revised edition).
Harrell, J. A. Cartography. The Oxford Encyclopedia of
Ancient Egypt. Vol. I. Ed. D. B. Redford. Cairo: The
American University in Cairo Press, 2001. 239–41.
Harrell, J. A. and V. M. Brown. The Oldest Surviving
Topographical Map from Ancient Egypt (Turin Papyri
1879, 1899 and 1969). Journal of the American Research
Center in Egypt 29 (1992): 81–105.
Hernandez, Marin, A. El Circulo de Oro de Uresh-nefer.
Boletín de la Asociación Española de Egiptología 4–5
(1992–1994): 89–106.
Peck, W. H. Drawings from Ancient Egypt. London: Thames
and Hudson, 1978.
Shaw, I. N. and P. T. Nicholson. British Museum Dictionary
of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum Press, 1995.
Shore, A. F. Egyptian Cartography. The History of Cartogra-
phy. Vol. I. Ed. J. B. Harley and D. Woodward. Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press, 1987. 117–29.
Wells, R. A. Astronomy in Egypt. Astronomy before the
Telescope. 1996. Ed. Ch. Walker. London: British Museum
Press, 1999. 28–41.
Maps and Mapmaking
of the Australian Aboriginal People
D AVID T URNBULL
One of the most common forms of representation
in Australian Aboriginal culture is the map. Bark
paintings are often maps, as are sand sculptures, body
painting, and rock art. Spear throwers and log coffins
may be decorated with maps. Message sticks and Toas
(waymarkers) may incorporate geographical informa-
tion. In 1957 the anthropologist Donald Thomson
visited the central Australian desert country belonging
to the Pintupi people and described his experience:
I was able to…live and hunt with a group of desert-
dwelling aborigines who still followed the life of
their ancestors… On the eve of our going (return)
Tjappanongo produced spear throwers, on the
backs of which were designs deeply incised, more
or less geometric in form. Sometimes with a stick
or with his finger, he would point to each well or
rock hole in turn and recite its name, waiting for
me to repeat it after him… I realized that here was
the most important discovery of the expedition
that what Tjappanongo and the old men had
shown me was really a map, highly conventiona-
lized, like the marks on a “message” or “letter”
stick of the aborigines, of the waters of the vast
terrain over which the Bindubu hunted.
Tjappanongo was clearly endeavouring to convey
topographic information and hence was non-problem-
atically drawing a map. Peter Sutton argues such maps
should be distinguished from iconic representations
which, while spatial, are largely symbolic and per-
formative (Sutton 1998a: 362). However, it seems
plausible to accept an inclusive definition of a map as a
 Maps and mapmaking of the Australian Aboriginal people
device for organizing knowledge spatially, Courts of
law are now accepting paintings of the Dreaming tracks
of the ancestral beings as evidence of ownership and
hence the distinction between maps and icons is
becoming blurred (Turnbull 1998). Why then are maps
so ubiquitous in a culture that has no written language
and, purportedly, has little of the social complexity held
to characterize contemporary Western culture? The
answer is that Aboriginal culture is far from simple,
having as it does one of the richest religious systems in
the world, and that its central values are embodied as
knowledge; knowledge that is spatially organized
because the land and relationships to it underpin
everything. Aboriginal culture is spatialized linguisti-
cally, socially, religiously, artistically, and epistemo-
logically. Aboriginal ontology is one of spatialized
activities, of events and processes, people, and places.
To talk of things is to speak of the relationships
of processes at named sites, it is to consider the
connections between actions of the ancestral beings
and humans. Every moment of daily life is replete
with spatial references; asking someone to move over
may be phrased as “move northwards please”. Dreams
and narratives are cast in a framework of spatial
coordinates. Visiting groups at ceremonial gatherings
distribute themselves in a spatial replication of the
location of their homelands. Ceremonial and initiation
grounds are spatially constructed and oriented either to
other sacred sites or to the sun. The pervasiveness of
spatiality in Aboriginal daily life jointly derives from
the semantic structure of the language in which the
subjects of sentences are not things but relations
and from the centrality of the land in Aboriginal
cosmology. It is the land that is the source of value
and meaning, of rights and obligations. Everywhere is
sacred since all the land was created in the Dreaming
by the activities of ancestral beings as they moved
across the landscape. These journeys left Dreaming
tracks, knowledge of which is recreated in song, story,
and ceremony. Everyone has a spiritual linkage to the
land by virtue of birth such that they are the land.
Knowledge of the Dreaming tracks, of the activities
that created the land of one’s birth, is therefore
evidence of possession of the land and by the land.
Continued prosperity of the land depends on the
fulfilment of the ceremonials and rituals which are in
effect both a celebration of ownership and a continua-
tion of the act of creation. The landscape is the source
of meaning and value and the repository of history and
events and can be read as a map of itself and its own
creation (Watson, Helen and the Yolngu community at
Yirrkala 1993: 36).
However, it is knowledge that is the primary marker
of status and the primary item of exchange (Palmer
1991). Surface knowledge is the outside knowledge
that anyone can speak of; inside knowledge is that
1277
which only the initiated can speak of and which is
gradually revealed through life as maturity is attained.
The way the Yolgnu of Eastern Arnhemland structure
their system is typical of the ways in which it is
possible for Aboriginal groups to have a detailed
understanding of their environment. Their knowledge
system is dependent on the joint articulation of two
modes of patterning. One is genealogical – gurrutu the
kinship system; the other is spatial – djalkiri the
footsteps of the ancestors or the Dreaming tracks
(Watson, Helen, the Yolngu community at Yirrkala, and
David Wade Chambers 1989: 37). The kinship system
provides an unlimited process of recursion that enables
all things to be named and related and thus imposes an
order on the social and natural world that gives it
coherence and value. It provides the framework within
which social obligations with regard to life, death,
marriage, and land can be negotiated. The other mode
of patterning is provided by the stories, myths, or
Dreamings that relate the travels and activities of
the ancestors in creating the landscape in the form of
tracks or songlines that traverse the whole country.
The kinship system and the songlines together form
a knowledge network that allows for everything
to be connected. The concept of connectedness is an
extremely powerful one in Aboriginal culture and is
exemplified by the Yolgnu term likan, which in the
mundane sphere means elbow – the connection of the
upper and lower arm – and in the spiritual sphere
M
connotes the connections among ancestors, persons,
places, and ceremonies. A wide variety of Australian
Aboriginal paintings have been interpreted as being
simultaneously geographic and social; they represent
both the tracks of the ancestors and detailed maps of
places. Hence bark paintings are encoded knowledge of
connections.
The Kunwinjku people of Western Arnhemland
paint both bark and bodies at the Mardayin ceremony in
the “X-ray” style that shows internal body parts. In the
Mardayin ceremony the bodies of the initiates are
painted so that in effect their own body parts are
mapped with a design that represents the body parts of
the ancestral beings and features of the landscape.
These paintings can be read on one level as maps of the
way Kunwinjku “conceive of the spatial organization
of sites in their land in terms of an abstract model of
the divided yet organically related body parts of the
ancestral beings that created those lands. Such sites
are described as transformations of the actual body
parts of the ancestral being, and all the sites thus
created are considered to be intrinsically connected”
(Taylor 1989).
The connective function of bark paintings like this
helps children to learn the shape of the wanga (territory,
land, country) and to have respect for it and the animals
in it by integrating the activities of the ancestors,
1278 Maps and mapmaking: Celestial East Asian maps
people, and places. Ownership of the land thus means
having the right speak of the land, the right to have the
knowledge of it, and also to have responsibility for both
the land, and the knowledge and for its sustenance and
transmission.
While the land may have boundaries that can be
known with precision, it is not good custom to display
them, because they are permeable rather than fixed
entities with rites of access being required and most
frequently granted. “Boundaries are to cross” (Williams
1983), and “the content of ownership is the right to be
asked” (Myers 1986: 99). Areas can be owned by more
than one group, and routes can be common property.
Boundaries are more properly the subject of negotia-
tion and exchange in ceremony, ritual, and protocol.
Protocols are exemplified in the formal role of the
go-between, the diplomat or djarrma the messenger.
Moreover Yolgnu conceptions of place do not cor-
respond to Western legal notions of enclosure but
are more typically open and extendable “strings”
of connectedness (Keen 1995). Consequently, while
Australian Aboriginal groups constantly map their
land, this is a very different process from that of the
dominant white society. Being mapped in the white
manner may have advantages, for example, in making
native title claims. In fact it has become standard
procedure for anthropologists to record Dreaming tracks
on Western topographical maps as evidence that this
knowledge is the property of the claimants. Aboriginal
relationships with country do not equate with the notions
of boundary precision, exclusion, and individual property
rights and the linkages to the state implicit in Western
maps. Aboriginal maps keep those relationships alive
by celebrating and performing connections between
people and land in stories, ceremony, and painting.
References
Keen, Ian. Metaphor and the Meta-Language: ‘Groups’ in
Northeast Arnhemland. American Ethnologist 22 (1995):
502–27.
Morphy, Howard. ‘Now You Understand’ – An Analysis of
the Way Yolgnu Have Used Sacred Knowledge to Retain
Their Autonomy. Aborigines, Land and Land Rights. Ed.
Nicolas Peterson, Marcia Langton. Canberra: Australian
Institute of Aboriginal Studies, 1983. 110–33.
---. Ancestral Connections: Art and an Aboriginal System of
Knowledge. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991.
Myers, Fred R. Pintupi Country, Pintupi Self: Sentiment,
Place and Politics Among Western Desert Aborigines.
Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press and Australian
Institute of Aboriginal Studies, 1986.
Palmer, Kingsley. Knowledge as a Commodity in Aboriginal
Australia. Knowledge, Land and Australian Aboriginal
Experience. Ed. David Turnbull. Geelong: Deakin Univer-
sity Press, 1991. 6–10.
Sutton, Peter. Icons of Country: Topographic Representa-
tions in Classical Aboriginal Traditions. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 3. Cartography in the Traditional
African, American, Arctic, Australian, and Pacific Societies.
Ed. David Woodward, and G. Malcom Lewis. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1998a. 353–418.
---. Aboriginal Maps and Plans. The History of Cartography.
Vol. 2. Book 3. Cartography in the Traditional African,
American, Arctic, Australian and Pacific Societies. Ed.
David Woodward, and G. Malcom Lewis. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1998b. 387–413.
Taylor, Luke. Seeing the Inside: Bark Painting in Western
Arnhem Land. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996.
Turnbull, David. Mapping Encounters and (En)Countering
Maps: A Critical Examination of Cartographic Resistance.
Research in Science and Technology Studies: Knowledge
Systems. Knowledge and Society. Ed. Shirey Gorenstein.
Vol. 11. Stanford Connecticut: JAI Press, 1998. 15–44.
---. Masons, Tricksters and Cartographers: Comparative
Studies in the Sociology of Scientific and Indigenous Knowl-
edge. Reading: Harwood Academic Publishers, 2000.
Watson, Helen and the Yolngu community at Yirrkala.
Australian Aboriginal Maps. Maps Are Territories: Science
is an Atlas. Ed. David Turnbull. Chicago: Chicago
University Press, 1993. 28–36.
Watson, Helen, the Yolngu Community at Yirrkala, and
David Wade Chambers. Singing the Land, Signing the
Land. Geelong: Deakin University Press, 1989.
Williams, Nancy M. The Yolngu and Their Land: A System of
Land Tenure and the Fight for Its Recognition. Canberra:
Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, 1986.
Wood, Denis. Maps and Mapmaking. Cartographica 30.1
(1993): 1–9.
Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial East
Asian Maps
F. R ICHARD S TEPHENSON
For the purpose of this article, East Asia will be
understood to comprise the three countries of China,
Korea and Japan. In common with many other aspects
of culture, mapping of the night sky in both Korea and
Japan began much later than in China and closely
followed the Chinese tradition.
The origins of celestial mapping in East Asia are
lost in the mists of time. Very ancient rock carvings
clearly depicting the Big Dipper have been found
in North Korea, and these are considered to be date
from several thousand years BCE. Occasional stellar
names – such as Dou (the Ladle: presumably the Big
Dipper) and Huo (the Fire Star: probably identified with
the bright red star Antares) – are recorded on Chinese
bone inscriptions from the Shang Dynasty (ca. 1500–
1050 BCE). Several of the folk songs in the Shijing
(Book of Odes) – some of which may date from around
1000 BCE – mention star groups. One of these odes
cites the names of four asterisms: the Celestial Han
River (i.e. the Milky Way), the Draught Ox, the

Winnowing Basket and the Ladle. The description of
the Ladle is fairly specific: “In the north there is the
Ladle; it raises its western handle”. The apparent
motion of the Big Dipper around the north celestial pole
has provided a convenient seasonal and hourly marker
to a variety of civilisations since remote antiquity.
The first known systematic list of constellation
names from East Asia dates from around 433 BCE.
This was uncovered in 1978 from a tomb in Hubei
province and lists the names of all 28 xiu (lunar lodges):
asterisms which were of key importance in astrology
and positional astronomy. There is a persistent tradition
that detailed mapping of the stars began in China
during the fourth century BCE with the work of astron-
omers such as Shi Shen and Gan De. However, the
evidence to support this notion is relatively late: no
earlier than the seventh century AD. Modern investiga-
tions of the measurements in a portion of a star catalogue
supposedly compiled by Shi Shen and preserved in
the eighth century Kaiyuan Zhanjing (Kaiyuan Treatise
on Astrology) have indicated a date around 70 BCE.
The earliest catalogue of constellations covering the
whole of the sky visible from China is preserved in the
Shiji (Records of the Historian). This was compiled by
Sima Qian around the middle of the Former Han
Dynasty (202 BCE to AD 9) and gives brief qualitative
descriptions of about 100 star groups. Later catalogues
list as many as 280 separate asterisms.
The oldest surviving astral map from China dates
from the first century BCE, towards the end of the
Former Han Dynasty. Beginning with this dynasty,
the development of celestial mapping in China can be
traced with increasing confidence, although it is known
that many important star charts and celestial globes
have failed to survive. Since the stars appear to us as
scattered points of light, any attempts to divide them
into groups must necessarily be artificial. This is
illustrated by the great diversity between the constella-
tion patterns as depicted on Eastern and Western charts
of the night sky. Chinese and other East Asian stellar
maps further differ from their Western counterparts in
the following ways:
– There is virtually no symbolic representation of the
constellations by human or animal figures, etc;
– Star groups tend to be much smaller, typically
containing only about five stars;
– Individual stars are represented by circles or dots of
almost equal size – regardless of brightness; and
– An equatorial (rather than ecliptic) co-ordinate
system is standard, with division of the sky into 28
unequal zones of RA, the xiu.
Chinese celestial mapping reveals negligible traces of
Western influence (whether of European, Arab or
Indian origin) until as late as the seventeenth century
Maps and mapmaking: Celestial East Asian maps 1279
when the Jesuits introduced improved knowledge and
techniques.
Whereas many Western constellation names are
derived from Babylonian and Greek mythology,
Chinese names tend to be much more mundane. From
an early period, the celestial vault came to be regarded
as a direct counterpart of the Chinese empire. Star
groups, together with certain individual stars, were
regarded as representing members of the imperial
family, courtiers and other officials – as well as
domestic animals, crops and important buildings (from
palaces to prisons). Any event occurring in a particular
constellation – such as the appearance of a planet or
comet, or “new star” – was regarded as an omen of
change affecting the terrestrial equivalent.
Until about 30 years ago, very few Chinese celestial
maps were known to be extant from before AD 1000.
In his Shiji, Sima Qian asserted that an “astronomical
chart” was depicted on the ceiling of the tomb of
Qin Shihuang, the first Emperor of China, who died
in 213 BCE. This has yet to be excavated. However,
recent excavations at a variety of sites have brought
to light a number of important star charts, mostly
decorating the ceilings of tombs. The earliest surviving
such artefact depicts only 28 star groups – the lunar
lodges. This rather crude but colourful painting adorns
the ceiling of the tomb of an official of the Former Han
Dynasty. It was discovered accidentally in 1987 during
building work in Xi’an, near the site of the Former Han
M
capital. Coins found on the floor of the tomb date from
around 25 BCE. Individual constellations are depicted
in a ring of approximate diameter 2.5 m; stars –
represented by small circles – are joined into groups by
straight lines, as in most later astral maps.
No further chart of the night sky is preserved until
the sixth century AD, but there is documentary
evidence that a number of accurate stellar charts and
celestial globes were produced by leading astronomers
in the intervening time. Around AD 250, Chen Zuo is
said to have produced a map of the stars based on the
schools of the ancient astronomers. This was said to
represent 1,464 stars in 283 groups – numbers which
were to become almost canonical. The purpose of such
artefacts was to predict the risings and settings of the
constellations as well as to follow the movements of
wandering celestial bodies such as planets and comets.
Unfortunately, none of these works survived for more
than a century or two.
A star map dating from AD 526 was discovered
during excavations at Luoyang – another ancient
capital of China – in 1973. This chart is painted on a
tomb ceiling of the late Wei Dynasty (AD 386–557),
and is some 3 m in diameter. The Milky Way features
very prominently, but the constellations are very
sketchily depicted. Clearly, there is no particular reason
why stellar maps painted on tomb ceilings should
1280 Maps and mapmaking: Celestial East Asian maps

compare in quality with those produced by contempo-

rary astronomers.
After AD 526 until well into the tenth century AD,
only a single important celestial map survives. This
paper chart, measuring approximately 110 × 25 cm,
was amongst the vast number of manuscripts uncov-
ered by Sir Aurel Stein in a Buddhist grotto at
Dunhuang (Xinjiang province) in 1907. The crude
but attractive chart, which is now in the British Library,
portrays – in 13 sections – the whole of the night sky
visible from China. Stars are depicted in three colours
(red, black and yellow), possibly reflecting a tradition
which had its roots in the Warring States Period.
A suggested date for this interesting artefact is around
AD 700.
A few decades ago, two huge star maps, dating from
AD 941 and 952, were uncovered from the tombs of
Prince Qian Yuanguan and his wife Wu Hanyue. Qian
Yuanguan was ruler of the small state of Wuyue in
eastern China, the capital of which was close to
present-day Hangzhou. The two star charts, each some
2 m in diameter, were engraved on thick stone slabs
which formed the ceilings of the tombs. Regrettably,
the map from the tomb of Wu Hanyue was destroyed
during the cultural revolution, although an accurate
Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial East Asian Maps.
scale drawing is preserved. Fortunately, the chart from
Fig. 1 “Star observing tower” at Kyongju, Korea, dating
the tomb of Qian Yuanguan still survives, although it is from AD 647 (photograph courtesy of Prof Nha Il-Seong,
badly damaged. This latter chart depicts with fair Seoul).
accuracy the 28 lunar lodge constellations, together
with a few polar star groups. The celestial equator and
north circumpolar circle (circle of constant visibility)
are also carefully positioned.
Many astral maps and celestial globes are known to
have been produced during the highly advanced Song
Dynasty (AD 960 – 1279) in China, but most have long
since disappeared. Only one of the original artefacts of
any consequence, dating from AD 1247, is known to
exist today. This remarkable chart was produced by a
scholar and was intended for the instruction of a future
emperor. It is exhibited at the Suzhou (=Soochow)
Museum in Jiangsu province. The circular chart,
1.05 m in diameter, is engraved on a stele measuring
2.2 × 1.1 m. The surface is still in very good condition
and rubbings are occasionally taken. Entitled Tianwen-
tu (Astronomical Chart), the map portrays the whole of
the sky visible from central China on a polar projection.
A recent count asserts that it depicts 1,436 stars in
277 constellations. Celestial equator, ecliptic and polar
circles are shown, together with radial lines represent-
ing the boundaries of the lunar lodges; the Milky Way
is also clearly depicted. Modern measurements demon-
strate that most star positions are accurate to within
about 2°, which represents tolerably good precision Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial East Asian Maps.
(Figs. 1 and 2). Fig. 2 Computerised reversal (i.e. black on white) from
The great Song Dynasty astronomer Su Song is rubbing of the Suzhou star chart (the star chart is in the
known to have produced a celestial globe 1.7 m in Suzhou Museum, Jiangsu Province, China).

diameter in AD 1092. This was said to represent 1,464
stars in 283 constellations – standardised figures since
ancient times. Although the globe was destroyed a few
decades afterwards, star charts in extant copies of Su
Song’s Xinyi xiang fayao (New Design for an Armillary
and Globe) are believed to reproduce closely the star
patterns on the celestial globe. Copies of an these
charts, which were first printed in AD 1094, are still
available, although the earliest extant version dates
from AD 1781; this is now in the National Library at
Beijing. The entire night sky as seen from Central
China is portrayed in five sections. One of these
sections, depicting the southern hemisphere, has a
central void; this corresponds to the region of the sky
near the south pole which was permanently below the
horizon at the Chinese capital (Kaifeng) of the time.
Apart from isolated constellations such as Denglonggu
(Frame of the Lantern, identical with the Southern
Cross), no far southern stars appear to have been
mapped in any detail until the Jesuit era. Careful
modern measurements show that typical positional
errors on the Su Song maps – or at least the extant
copies – are fairly large, some as much as 4°.
In recent decades, several well-preserved celestial
charts have been uncovered during excavations of
Buddhist mausoleums of the Liao Dynasty (which
flourished in Northern China between AD 916 and
1125). Two of these colorful artefacts, painted on the
ceilings of tombs, are particularly interesting. As well
as depicting stylised versions of the 28 lunar lodge
patterns, they also show symbols – rather sinified –
representing the 12 signs of the Western zodiac. A large
bell, cast in AD 1174, is also adorned with the zodiacal
signs. The signs of the zodiac were first introduced into
China around AD 600, with the translations of
Buddhist sūtras. Not long afterwards, during the Tang
Dynasty (AD 618–907), horoscope astrology – based
on Western methods – became popular in China.
However, this had negligible effect on official practice –
e.g. at Court. No significant pictorial relics survive until
long after the end of the Tang.
A number of substantial star maps are preserved
from the Ming Dynasty (AD 1368–1644), but apart
from those revealing Jesuit influence (after about
AD 1630), none is of the caliber of the Suzhou chart
of AD 1247. Commencing in the late Ming, members
of the Society of Jesus made important contributions
to astronomy in China, and for nearly two centuries
(from AD 1644 to 1826) Western missionaries held the
position of Astronomer Royal in China. Today, many
fine Jesuit celestial globes and maps produced in China
still survive. These include works by Adam Schall
von Bell (AD 1634), Ferdinand Verbiest (1673) and
August von Hallerstein (1757). The Jesuit astrono-
mers did not try to supplant the Chinese constellations
with those of Western origin. However, they measured
Maps and mapmaking: Celestial East Asian maps 1281
stellar positions in existing asterisms with hitherto
unrivalled precision and in some cases added further
stars to individual groups – as well as bringing
knowledge of the far southern stars which are invisible
from China. All significant representations of the
night sky throughout the Qing Dynasty (AD 1644–
1911) either directly or indirectly reveal Western
influence in these ways and are thus outside the scope
of this article.
Korea
The earliest surviving astral map produced in Korea
dates from AD 1395. Entitled Ch’onsang yolch’a
punyajido (chart of the regular division of the celestial
bodies), this left a lasting impression on celestial
mapping in Korea. Indeed, until the end of the last
dynasty (the Yi) in AD 1910, virtually all surviving star
charts produced in Korea which do not show Western
influence appear to be based on it. History records that
the original celestial map, which is 90 cm in diameter
and engraved on a marble slab measuring 2.1 × 1.2 m,
is an accurate reproduction of a much older map which
had been presented to Koguryo, one of the three early
kingdoms of Korea, by a Chinese emperor. Although
this stele was abandoned in a river during a battle in the
Korean peninsula in AD 670, a rubbing still survived in
1395, and this was used to make a new engraving. On
the reverse of the stele is a virtually identical copy M
which may possibly date from AD 1425. Both the
AD 1395 chart and a careful stone replica produced
in 1687 are still preserved in Seoul museums. They
are in good condition, although the earlier artefact has
suffered damage down the centuries – notably during a
Japanese invasion in AD 1592 (Fig. 3).
Each of the stone engravings depicts the usual circles
and lunar lodge boundaries, as well as the Milky Way.
However, several constellation patterns differ consid-
erably from medieval Chinese representations, while
modern measurements of the star positions suggest
an early date – possibly around 30 BCE. Hence the
two steles may well preserve traditions of celestial
mapping which are far older than the detailed Chinese
charts which are still accessible today.
Japan
In 1973, a crude chart showing the 28 lunar lodges in a
square measuring 80 × 80 cm was discovered on the
ceiling of a Japanese tomb dating from around AD 700.
This work, the earliest Japanese celestial chart so far
discovered, clearly shows Chinese influence. Detailed
maps and globes of the night sky based on Chinese
originals are known to have been produced at various
stages in later Japanese history. However, none has
survived before the sixteenth century. A chart compiled
by Ase Yasuyo around AD 1315 was the oldest extant
1282 Maps and mapmaking: Celestial Islamic maps
Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial Islamic Maps.
Fig. 3 Computer scan of Korean star chart engraved in AD
1687. This chart, engraved on stone, is an accurate copy of a
damaged stone chart dating from AD 1395 (illustration
courtesy of Prof Nha Il-Seong, Seoul).
Japanese celestial map until it was destroyed near
the end of the Second World War. Fortunately, some
replicas still exist. The chart – in two sections – showed
the Chinese constellations, ecliptic, celestial equator,
Milky Way and the lunar lodge boundaries. It was
designed to assist the observation of lunar conjunctions
with stars.
The two oldest extant star maps of Japanese origin
both date from around AD 1540. Each is circular,
extending from the north celestial pole to the region of
perpetual invisibility (the area of sky always below the
observer’s horizon), and shows the traditional Chinese
constellations and co-ordinates. Both the Suzhou
celestial map of AD 1247 and the Korean chart of
AD 1395 have had an important effect on Japanese
celestial cartography and many copies of each from the
seventeenth century onwards can be found in Japan.
In recent decades, the study of East Asian celestial
cartography has been enhanced by the growing world-
wide interest in records of comets and supernovae
recorded in China, Korea and Japan. The positions of
these celestial bodies were often carefully described in
relation to specific star groups. In order to trace the
movements of comets (notably Halley’s Comet) or
deduce the locations of past supernovae, it is necessary
to make a detailed investigation of the individual
constituents of asterisms with reference to modern star
catalogues. This work continues.
See also: ▶Lunar Lodges, ▶Kitora
References
Chen, Meidong and Zhu, Bian. Zhongguo gu xingtu (Star
Charts in Ancient China). Liaoning: Jiaoyu Chubanshe,
1996.
Miyajima, Kazuhiko. Japanese Celestial Cartography before
the Meiji Period. History of Cartography. Ed. J. B. Harley
and David Woodward. Vol. II, Part 2, Chap. 14. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1994.
Oh, Gil-Sun. Creating ancient Star Maps Using a Computer.
Astronomical Instruments and Archives from the Asia-
Pacific Region. Ed. Wayne Orchiston, F. Richard Ste-
phenson, Suzanne Debarbat, and Nha Il-Seong. Seoul:
Yonsei University Press, 2004. 165–176.
Pan, Nai. Zhongguo hengxing guance shi (History of Stellar
Observations in China). Shanghai: Shelin Chubanshe,
1989.
Stephenson, F. Richard. Chinese and Korean Star Maps
and Catalogs. History of Cartography. Ed. J. B. Harley and
David Woodward. Vol. II, Part 2, Chap. 13. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1994.
Stephenson, F. Richard and David A. Green. Historical
Supernovae and Their Remnants. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2002.
Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial
Islamic Maps
E MILIE S AVAGE -S MITH
The earliest evidence of Islamic interest in celestial
mapping is a vaulted ceiling in a small eighth-century
provincial palace, known as Qus.ayr ˓Amrah, in the
desert of present day Jordan. One of the bathrooms in
this palace has a domed ceiling painted to resemble the
vault of the heavens. It is the oldest astronomical dome
of heaven preserved today. Though the ceiling has
badly deteriorated, enough remains to ascertain that the
artist was influenced by late Antique and Byzantine
two-dimensional flat maps of the skies. The iconogra-
phy of the constellation figures, the lack of stars, and
the method of projection are in keeping with classical
and early Western medieval maps of the heavens. The
sequence of the constellations on the domed ceiling,
however, is not as one would see it when looking up
into the sky, but rather as it would appear when looking
down onto a celestial globe (see Savage-Smith,
Celestial mapping).
The celestial globe is the oldest form of celestial
mapping, for its origins can be traced to Greece in the
sixth century BCE, though the earliest preserved
example is an eleventh-century Islamic globe made in
Valencia. This three-dimensional model of the skies
presented the stars as seen by an observer outside the

sphere of stars, so that the relative positions of the stars
are the reverse, east to west (or right to left) of their
appearance when viewed from the surface of the earth.
Islamic celestial globes were made from the ninth
through the nineteenth centuries, steadfastly maintain-
ing the basic classical design and encouraging the
concept of a spherical universe rotating around the
earth.
No flat two-dimensional star maps on paper or
parchment from Islamic lands have survived, if indeed
any were made, although planispheric maps of the skies
drawn on parchment exist today from the Roman and
Byzantine worlds. Displaying the entire surface of a
sphere on a flat surface – such as parchment or paper or
a metal plate – requires a system of mathematical pro-
jection. In addition to the method called stereographic
projection known in late antiquity, other methods
for flat mapping were described in the early eleventh
century by the versatile scholar Abū al-Rayh.ān
Muh.ammad ibn Ah.mad al-Bīrūnī (b. 973) working in
Iran. Three of his proposed methods correspond in
modern terms to orthographic projection, azimuthal
equidistant polar projection, and globular projection.
His ideas, however, appear to have had no direct effect
upon subsequent celestial mapmaking in the Islamic
world, and no maps employing these novel methods are
known today (see Savage-Smith, ‘Celestial mapping’).
The evidence for Islamic interest in flat mapping of
the entire sky is found only in instrument design and
production. The flat, planispheric astrolabe was, in fact,
the most commonly used form of celestial map in the
Islamic world, for it consisted of a pierced star map
placed over a projection of the celestial coordinate
system as it related to the observer’s position on earth.
The resulting representation of the positions of the
stars with respect to the local horizon forms a two-
dimensional model of the heavens. The method of
stereographic projection required for the astrolabe’s
construction was certainly described by the Greek
astronomer Ptolemy in the first century AD, though not
the instrument itself. It was also Ptolemy who compiled
a star catalog giving coordinates for 1,022 stars, with
descriptions of 48 constellation outlines based mostly
on Greek mythological characters which served as
mnemonic devices for mapping the skies. This star
catalog was the basis for all the medieval Islamic star
catalogs as well as instruments employing stars (See
Kunitzsch and Knappert). It seems certain that the
astrolabe was a Greek invention, but its design and
production were perfected in the Islamic world, where it
was manufactured in many variations from Spain to
India from the early ninth through the nineteenth
century.
The influence of early modern European celestial
mapping is evident in an astrolabe plate engraved in
Maps and mapmaking: Celestial Islamic maps 1283
Iran in 1654–1655 by the instrument maker Muh.-
ammad Mahdī of Yazd. His metal plate reproduces the
northern and southern hemispheric maps from a
planispheric celestial map printed about 1650 by the
Parisian engraver Melchior Tavernier, whose brother
Jean-Baptist Tavernier had made six trips to the Near
East before his death in 1689 and probably served as
the conduít by which the map reached Iran. Tavernier’s
star map included the new chartings of the southern
skies at the end of the sixteenth century, and these were
carefully rendered by Muhammad Mahdī, who changed
the labels of the Ptolemaic constellations into Arabic,
but did not attempt to give Arabic names to the newer
non-Ptolemaic constellations. Muh.ammad Mahdī made
at least two additional copies of these plates, but they
appear to have had no subsequent influence on Islamic
celestial cartography (See Savage-Smith, Celestial
mapping; and also Savage-Smith Wake field).
Celestial space was also often represented by
schematic diagrams that did not involve the mathemat-
ical determination of coordínates (necessary for globes)
or methods of projection (required for planispheric
maps or astrolabes). In such diagrams, concentric circles
were often used to indicate in general terms the orbits
of the planets and the sphere of the stars about the earth,
which was viewed as being at the center of the
universe. More complex and abstract diagrams illus-
trating the orbit of an individual planet employed
concentric and eccentric circles to explain the peculia-
M
rities of the planet’s path (see Van Brummelen).
Mapping the entire sky or heavens was not the only
form of celestial mapping to occupy Islamic thinkers.
Maps of individual constellations rather than the entire
sky had the advantage of not employing a coordinate
system or requiring knowledge of projection methods.
The most important guide to constellation diagrams in
the Islamic world was undoubtedly an Arabic treatise
written in the tenth century by ˓Abd al-Rah.mān ibn
˓Umar al-S.ūf ī, a court astronomer in Isfahan. He
provided two drawings of each of the 48 classical
constellations, one as it would be seen in the sky by an
observer on earth and one as it appears on a celestial
globe (see Wellesz). According to one account, al-S.ūf ī
obtained his images by laying very thin paper over a
celestial globe and tracing the constellation outlines
and individual stars. While taking pains to make clear
to the reader the mirror–image relationship between
constellations as imagined in the sky and those on a
celestial globe, by treating each one individually al-S.ūf ī
ignored the spatial interrelationships of the constella-
tions to each other. Al-S.ūf ī also preceded the discussion
of each constellation with a survey of traditional
Bedouin constellations visualized in the same area of
the sky, such as the constellation of a lion much larger
than Leo with gazelles running before the large lion.
1284 Maps and mapmaking in China
Numerous copies of this popular treatise exist today,
with dress and general presentation of the figures
changed to reflect local artistic fashions and con-
ventions, and many later writers incorporated the
constellation images into their treatises. Sometimes in
later works the constellations were illustrated without
stars, with only the animal or human mythological
form that gave rise to the constellation outline, and
occasionally even the understanding of the mythologi-
cal figure was lost or confused. The diagrams of
individual constellations of stars yielded an easily
understood nonmathematical guide to portions of the
skies, while giving wide scope to the artist in inter-
preting the animal and human outlines.
Another form of Islamic celestial mapping was the
emblematic or symbolic representation of celestial
bodies (planets as well as constellations of stars) and
their spatial relationships. The 12 zodiacal signs were
often represented as emblematic motifs rather than as
constellation diagrams. No attempt was made to represent
the stars forming the asterism or even the basic outline of
the constellation. Rather, each constellation was repre-
sented by a commonly accepted convention, such as
a two-headed man sitting cross-legged for Gemini,
or for Libra a squatting man with scales over his
shoulders or held overhead. The seven classical planets
(Moon, Mercury, Venus, Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn)
were designated by human personifications. Venus, for
example, was portrayed as a woman playing a lute-like
instrument or Jupiter as a man reading a book. In
astrological writings, zodiacal signs were related to
the planets by a series of “domiciles.” Thus the moon
was most frequently associated with, or domiciled in,
Cancer, and the sun in Leo. The remaining five planets
were each assigned two zodiacal signs as their domi-
ciles; Venus, for example, was assigned to both Libra
and Taurus. Artisans working in metal or with manu-
script painting would represent these spatial relation-
ships by depicting Taurus as a bull ridden by a lute
player (Venus), or Cancer with a lunar disk, or Leo as a
lion surmounted by the radiant disk of the sun. In a
second system, the zodiacal signs were combined with
the “exaltation” or “dejection” of a planet, which could
also be represented symbolically. The lunar nodes (the
northern and southern intersections of the moon’s orbit
with the ecliptic) were referred to as the head and tail of
a dragon, which came to be regarded as a pseudo-planet
associated with Sagittarius and Gemini and often
represented graphically. Such symbolic representations
of celestial bodies and their spatial relations formed
an important part of medieval Islamic understanding
and graphic interpretation of the heavens. They did not
require the difficult technical knowledge necessary for
geometrically projected mappings and they were an
attractive subject matter for artists to interpret flexibly
(see Savage-Smith, ‘The Islamic Tradition’).
Each type of Islamic celestial mapping was directed
at a different audience. The fairly educated audience
who could interpret the symbolic and allegorical
representations of celestial bodies was probably more
select than those who could appreciate a constellation
diagram. Different still would be those who could
appreciate as a scientific instrument the celestial globe
with its stars positioned by coordinates or the astrolabe
with the stellar coordinates projected geometrically
onto a flat plate. The Islamic world’s apparent lack of
flat stellar maps of the entire visible sky drawn on paper
or parchment has yet to be fully explained (see Sabra).
See also: ▶Globes, ▶al-Bīrūnī, ▶Astrolabe, ▶Stars in
Islamic Astronomy, ▶al-S.ūf ī
References
Kunitzsch, Paul and J. Knappert. al-Nudjūm (The Stars).
Encyclopaedia of Islam. 2nd ed. Vol. 8. Leiden: Brill,
1991. 97–105.
Sabra, A. I. Configuring the Universe: Aporetic, Problem
Solving, and Kinematic Modeling as Themes of Arabic
Astronomy. Perspectives on Science: Historical, Philo-
sophical, Social, 1998.
Savage-Smith, Emilie. Celestial Mapping. The History of
Cartography. Volume Two, Book One: Cartography in the
Traditional Islamic and South Asian Societies. Ed. J. B.
Harley, David Woodward. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1992a. 12–70.
---. The Islamic Tradition of Celestial Mapping. Asian Art 5.4
(1992b): 5–27.
Savage-Smith, Emilie and Colin Wakefield. Jacob Golius and
Celestial Cartography. Learning, Language and Invention:
Essays Presented to Francis Maddison. Ed. W. D.
Hackmann, A. J. Turner. London: Variorum, 1994. 238–60.
Van Brummelen, Glen. Mathematical Methods in the Tables
of Planetary Motion in Kushyar Ibn Labban’s “Jami’ Zij”.
Historia Mathematica, 1998.
Wellesz, Emmy. An Early al-Sufi Manuscript in the Bodleian
Library in Oxford: A Study in Islamic Constellation
Images. Ars Orientalis 3 (1959): 1–26.
Maps and Mapmaking in China
C ORDELL D. K. Y EE
The Chinese have one of the world’s longest histories
of mapmaking – more than 2,000 years. An adequate
account of this history, however, has yet to be written.
For some time spans, the first to the tenth centuries, for
example, losses from warfare and neglect have probably
been great. Almost no examples of maps remain, so that
one must make inferences on the basis of textual sources
and other evidence. For other periods, especially from

about the seventeenth century on, so many maps, as
well as supplementary textual sources, survive that no
one has adequately surveyed them.
Despite these difficulties, it is still possible to make
some broad generalizations. Before the twentieth
century, mapmaking in China was an activity of the
educated elite, those who formed the pool from which
posts in the government bureaucracy were filled. In the
course of their duties, these scholar-officials developed
mathematical techniques and instruments needed to
produce measured maps of high accuracy. Such maps
have features familiar to users of modern maps – scalar
indications, directional markers, conventional signs to
represent topographic features, and a lack of perspec-
tive. Their look is planimetric, all features being
represented as if lying on the same plane and as if
viewed from above. Maps like these form only a portion
of the body of surviving works, and partly for this
reason it would be misleading to characterize Chinese
mapmaking before the twentieth century as what we in
the West now call science. As will be discussed later, it
was a broader activity than the word “science” usually
connotes, one that often involved measurement.
The foundations for quantitative mapping were
established early in China’s cartographic history. The
magnetic properties of lodestones, or south-pointers,
were known from about the third century BCE. There is
textual evidence that during the second century BCE
the idea of map scale was understood. Around this
time Chinese surveyors and mapmakers already had
considerable technical resources available to them
for producing maps drawn to scale: graduated rods,
carpenter’s squares, plumb lines, and compasses for
drawing circles, and even sighting tubes that could be
used for measuring inclination. In addition, a reference
frame suggestive of a coordinate system for identifying
locations had been hinted at by astronomers who
divided the heavens into sectors, or lunar lodges (xiu).
A few hundred years after these beginnings, Pei Xiu
(223–271), a mapmaker known for large-area maps
drawn to scale, formulated a set of principles necessary
to produce accurate maps. These principles stressed
the importance of consistent scale, directional mea-
surements, and adjustments in land measurements to
correct for irregularities in the terrain being mapped.
The principles had some influence on later mapmakers.
Jia Dan (730–805) drew a large-area scale map fol-
lowing Pei Xiu’s principles, as did Shen Kuo (or Gua,
1031–1095). But none of the works by these map-
makers survives, so that it is impossible to judge how
well they followed Pei’s principles. Moreover, none of
Pei’s own work survives, so it is not known how well
Pei followed his own ideas.
Some researchers have claimed that maps dating
from the fourth to the second century BCE are evidence
that mensurational techniques were being applied to
Maps and mapmaking in China 1285
mapmaking (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 1–2). One of these,
discovered in Hebei Province, is a bronze architectural
plan of a mausoleum. Perhaps better-known examples
are two silk maps discovered at Mawangdui, near
Changsha, Hunan (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 20–21, 25–26).
Other early maps are a set of maps drawn on wood
discovered at Fangmatan in Gansu (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 4–
17). There is some disagreement over what areas the maps
found at Mawangdui and Fangmatan represent and how
they should be reconstructed. Such questions need to
be resolved before it can be determined whether the
maps were drawn to scale. Pei Xiu, in articulating his
principles of mapmaking, had complained about the lack
of accuracy in maps before his time. It is not yet clear
whether his assessment of his predecessors was justified.
In any case, a map produced within a half century of
Shen Kuo’s death suggests that mapmakers were
capable of following Pei’s principles quite rigorously:
this is the much celebrated Yu ji tu (Map of the Tracks
of Yu [the Great, legendary emperor]) (Cao, Vol. 1,
plates 57–59; ▶http://www.henry-davis.com/MAPS/
EMwebpages/218.1.html). It was carved in stone in
1136 and measures 80 × 79 cm. It represents all of
China, and is impressive for the accuracy of its
depiction of China’s coastline and the courses of the
Yellow and Yangtze Rivers. The map is also notable for
the square grid imposed on its surface. According to a
note on the map, each grid increment represents 100
Chinese miles. The grid is thus a scaling device, not a
M
coordinate system like latitude and longitude. After the
Yu ji tu the best known examples of grid maps are
printed in the Guang yutu (Enlarged Terrestrial Atlas,
ca. 1555) by Luo Hongxian (1504–1564) (Cao, Vol. 2,
plates 147–156). This atlas is a revision of a map no
longer extant, the Yutu (Terrestrial map, 1320) by Zhu
Siben (1273–1337). It contains a general map of China
and individual maps of provinces, all with grids.
According to Luo, the grid, in addition to serving as a
scaling device, served as an aid in aligning sections of
maps drawn or printed on different sheets.
The origins of the Chinese cartographic grid are
unknown. Its use is certainly consistent with Pei Xiu’s
call for scale and attention to directions, and it has some
similarities with the lunar lodges long used in Chinese
astronomy. The polymath Zhang Heng (78–139),
credited with an armillary sphere, a seismograph, and
a topographic map, has been suspected of using a grid.
But there is no direct evidence that any mapmaker
before the Yu ji tu employed the device.
On other Chinese maps made at roughly the same
time as the Yu ji tu, the grid is conspicuous by its
absence, perhaps an indication that their makers were
not particularly concerned with measurement and scale.
A number of these maps are, like the Yu ji tu, engraved
in stone, but are not considered as accurate as the Yu ji
tu: for example, the Hua yi tu (Map of Chinese and
1286 Maps and mapmaking in China

Foreign Lands, 1136) (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 60–62;

▶http://www.henry-davis.com/MAPS/EMwebpages/
218.html), engraved on the other side of the stone on
which the Yu ji tu appears, and the Jiu yu shouling tu
(Map of the Prefectures and Counties of the Nine
Districts [the empire], 1121) (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 63–65).
As their titles suggest, these maps, like the Yu ji tu,
represent all of China. An example of a stone map
depicting a smaller area is the Pingjiang tu (Map of
Pingjiang Prefecture, 1229) (Cao, Vol. 1, plates 79–81).
It, too, lacks a grid, and its scale has been found to vary
from about 1:1,300 to 1:2,800 in the central portion
and from about 1:10,000 to 1:77,000 at the periphery.
The evidence thus suggests that by the twelfth
century Chinese mapmakers had the resources to
produce measured maps of high quality, but in many
cases did not make full use of those resources. This is
not necessarily a defect. In general Chinese mapmakers
seem to have regarded their task as encompassing more
than representation according to a consistent scale. The
Chinese word tu, commonly translated as map, also
means picture, diagram, or chart. As the range of
meaning suggests, the forms of Chinese mapmaking
extend beyond what are easily recognizable as fore-
runners of modern measured maps.
Maps served a variety of functions for which
uniform scale might be necessary or desirable: navi-
gation, water conservancy, public works, defense and
military planning, government administration, and record
keeping for land tax accounting. But they also served
purposes for which attention to scale might not be so Maps and Mapmaking in China. Fig. 1 Pictorial map of
important: they might be used to symbolize political Hainan island dating from the nineteenth century. Notes on
power, to represent unseen other worlds, or to illustrate the map describe marriage and other ceremonies of the Li
configurations of energy (or qi), knowledge of which people. The mapmaker has distorted the shape of the island so
was useful in “siting” (dili = land patterns or geonomy, that it resembles a rectangle, an auspicious form. North is at
or more popularly, fengshui = wind and water or the bottom. Ink and color manuscript, 184 × 93 cm. Courtesy
geomancy) (Fig. 1). of the Library of Congress (G7822.H3E62 18–.H3 Vault).
The media used for mapmaking also show consider-
able diversity. Already mentioned have been flat maps
engraved on bronze and stone, drawn on silk, wood, who made maps. Their educations generally emphasized
and paper, and printed with woodblocks on paper. Maps broad learning, frequently encompassed humanistic and
were also painted on walls of caves and tombs. Three- scientific disciplines, and often centered around texts. Not
dimensional relief models were also made. One of the surprisingly the activity of mapmaking often involved
largest of these, described in the Shi ji (Records of textual study. This was the case with Pei Xiu, Jia Dan,
the Grand Historian, ca. 91 BCE, by Sima Qian), is Shen Kuo, and Luo Hongxian, those who are credited
contained in the tomb of Qin Shihuang (d. 210 BCE), with advancing quantitative mapmaking techniques.
founding emperor of the Qin Dynasty (221–207 BCE). Among the major sources of geographic information
It supposedly consists of representations of the heavens a mapmaker might consult were the dynastic histories,
above and the empire below, with mercury-filled which conventionally included geographic records, and
streams representing rivers and the sea. local gazetteers, compendia of historical and geograph-
Mapmaking in pre-twentieth-century China did not ical information focusing on China or one of its various
develop into a distinct specialty of learning as it did subdivisions. Gazetteers often included maps, usually
in Europe. As the variety of map functions suggests, at the head of the geographic section. These maps often
mapmaking was located at the intersection of a number lack scalar indications and are frequently pictorial. In
of activities and traditions of learning. This is consistent such instances, they do not seem to have been intended
with the educational background of the intellectual elite to be used or studied in isolation, but were meant

to be complemented by the accompanying text. The
maps give an idea of the spatial relationships between
geographic features, while the texts provide detailed
information on distances and directions. This relation-
ship between image and text does not seem to have
been restricted to maps in gazetteers. Jia Dan and Shen
Kuo, for example, say that their maps were accom-
panied by extensive notes, and Luo Hongxian’s
Guangyu tu consists mostly of text.
The relationship between map and text seems to
reflect the close ties among painting, calligraphy, and
poetry. From about the tenth century on, many Chinese
artists, themselves often members of the bureaucratic
elite, conceived the highest work of visual art as a
combination of all three arts, each contributing in
different ways to the aesthetic effect of the entire
artifact. Tu (maps or pictures) of geographic subjects
often had poems inscribed on them, suggesting that
maps were valued like other forms of visual art for their
emotional and expressive effects (Figs. 2 and 3). In
addition to employing quantitative techniques and
devising means to present the information gleaned
from those techniques, Chinese mapmakers drew upon
the resources of the visual arts to express their
responses to the land. The “language” of Chinese maps
Maps and Mapmaking in China. Fig. 2 Poetry on scroll
bearing map, stamped in red ink (at lower left). The couplet,
by the poet Du Fu (712–770), reads: “Most certainly this is
Jiangnan’s lovely landscape;/In the season when the leaves
fall I meet with you again.” The couplet was stamped in
response to a long map, a detail of which appears in Fig. 3.
(Minsheng yanchang quantu (Complete Map of the Salt
Fields in Fujian, 1746). Courtesy of the Library of Congress
(G7823.F8H5 1746.M4 Vault Shelf ).
Maps and mapmaking in China 1287
thus seems to have been more than one of denotation,
of correspondence to material realities. This seems to
be true even with maps of utilitarian function. Scholars
have long noted, for example, that some of the
representations on the nautical chart in the Wubei zhi
(Treatise on Military Preparations, ca. 1621, comp.
Mao Yuanyi) resemble elements often seen in Chinese
landscape paintings (Cao, Vol. 2, plates 168–171).
One result of the interactions between mapmaking
and other areas of learning seems to be that grid maps
in particular and measured maps in general constitute a
small proportion of the surviving corpus of Chinese
maps made before the twentieth century. The disparity
in the numbers of measured maps and more pictorial
maps seems especially pronounced during the seven-
teenth through the nineteenth centuries, long after the
development of woodblock printing, which made
possible the relatively quick production of multiple
copies of maps (see Fig. 3). This disparity has fostered
the conclusion that after the sixteenth century Chinese
mapmaking declined, as mapmakers seemed to pay less
attention to quantitative techniques and accuracy.
It is just as reasonable to view Chinese cartographic
history after the Yu ji tu not simply as a decline in
mapmaking, but as an implicit, if not conscious, rejec-
tion of the measured map as the representing map-
making at its best. A mathematical map is reductive in at
least two ways: a quantitative approach regularizes the
earth’s surface, and is less challenging and demanding
M
than a qualitative approach. A mathematical map can
be drawn by almost anyone; pictorial maps with their
greater detail require more advanced drawing skills.
The compilation of a map like the Yu ji tu is an
impressive achievement. But once it is drawn, it is
simple to draw it again. Pictorial maps are visually
more complicated.
Chinese mapmakers seem to have noticed the same
difference and preferred maps that allowed them to
demonstrate artistic skill. An index of this preference
is the large number of manuscript maps intended as
final products, even after the development of printing.
In Western Europe manuscript maps intended as
final products are rare after the advent of printing.
Mathematical techniques and printing technology
made possible the production of large numbers of
exact copies of originals. Yet in China, scholar-officials
often copied maps by hand, introducing variations, or
drew their own maps. The production of manuscript
maps was an opportunity to display skill with the brush
both in painting and in the art of writing – possibly one
reason for the close ties between mapmaking and
landscape painting.
Thus it is no surprise that in China there was little
innovation in measured mapping, little interest in
developing quantitative technique further, after the
twelfth century. Improvements in the mariner’s compass
1288 Maps and mapmaking in China
Maps and Mapmaking in China. Fig. 3 Mingsheng yanchang quantu (Complete Map of the Salt Fields in Fujian, 1746;
detail). The look of this map belies its use in law enforcement – as an aid to prevent salt smuggling. Ink and color in silk,
33 × 571 cm. Courtesy of the Library of Congress (G7823.F8H5 1746.M4 Vault Shelf ).
and measurements of celestial latitude, for example, do
not seem to have influenced Chinese mapmakers, as such
developments affected European mapmaking. In addi-
tion, Chinese mapmakers did not develop projection
techniques for transferring points from a spherical to a
plane surface. Mapmakers seem to have believed the
earth’s surface was generally flat, so that, in their minds,
drawing maps on plane surfaces would not result in
appreciable distortion.
In 1267 a Persian astronomer presented the Chinese
imperial court with a “geographic record” that repre-
sented the earth as round, but the representation seems
to have had no effect on Chinese mapmaking. The
Chinese did not begin to adopt techniques of spherical
projection until the late sixteenth century when Jesuit
missionaries, notably Matteo Ricci (1552–1610), intro-
duced Ptolemaic cartography with its coordinate system
into China. Some Chinese copied Ricci’s maps, and in
the eighteenth century, Jesuits were commissioned by
Chinese emperors to survey and map the entire empire.
In carrying out this work, the Jesuits employed Chinese
assistants. But even so, Chinese adoption of European
techniques was slow, since the Jesuits were limited in
their access to China, and many Chinese intellectuals
resisted a view of the earth as round. The bulk of
maps made in China continued to be made in the
traditional manner up to the late nineteenth century.
There was little uniformity in mapmaking, even within
the government. Maps might be planimetric; they
might be pictorial; they might be drawn to scale; they
might not be; they might have grids (Fig. 4); they might
lack them; even if they had grids, they might not be
drawn to scale (Fig. 5); and late in the nineteenth
century they might have square grids as well as lines of
latitude and longitude. They also varied in physical
format and could be made on sheets, scrolls, fan-folded
strips, and bound volumes (see Extra).
Circumstances in the nineteenth century, however,
fostered change in this situation. As China weakened
as a result of domestic problems and encroachments
by European powers, many Chinese intellectuals began
to believe that China needed reform. Some pointed
out that European maps were superior to those of
the Chinese. In response, the government tried to
standardize mapmaking practices, stipulating that stan-
dard projections and scales be used. Progress in instituting
these changes was difficult since there was a shortage
of personnel capable of employing the necessary
techniques. Not until after the collapse of the empire
in the twentieth century did the European conception of
cartography as primarily quantitative fully supplant the
traditional Chinese idea of a map as an intersection of
various lines of learning including the literary and
visual arts.
In the first half of the twentieth century the quality of
measured maps improved as more Chinese were trained
in the earth sciences. During the Second World War,
however, accurate measured maps were still not in good
supply – a situation that hampered the Chinese military.
To remedy that situation, the Chinese government took
steps to promote cartography. In 1956 it established a
State Bureau of Surveying and Mapping which under-
took to produce a series of topographic maps for
the whole country. Since then more institutions have
 Maps and mapmaking in China 1289

M
Maps and Mapmaking in China. Fig. 4 Huangchao zhi sheng fu ting zhou xian quantu (Complete Map of Provinces,
Prefectures, Subprefectures, Departments, and Counties under the Qing, 1864). This map has a grid in which each grid
increment equals 200 Chinese miles. A legend explaining the various signs on the map appears on the right. Woodblock print,
hand-colored to show provincial boundaries, 57 × 58 cm. Courtesy of the Library of Congress (G7820 1864.H8 Vault).

been established to make maps, and others, such as
the Wuhan Technical University of Surveying and
Mapping, have been set up to teach cartography. As
part of China’s effort to modernize, Chinese carto-
graphy has employed the latest technological advances:
remote sensing, satellite photography, and geographic
information systems.
Extra: Maps and Mapmaking in China:
A Controversy
Some scholars would question whether the Jesuit surveys deserve the
brief account they are given here. The surveys have been taken as
evidence that China entered the early modern world as early as the
eighteenth century (see, for example, Needham and Hostetler).
I have no objection to describing the Jesuit surveys as early
modern. Describing the Jesuit atlas as early modern emphasizes its
departure from traditional Chinese practices. Most maps made under
the Qing were not early modern. Maps drawn to scale were part of the
Chinese mapmaking tradition, but according to the available
evidence, pictorial maps were made in far greater numbers. Traditional
Chinese mathematical cartography was not the same as modern
mathematical cartography in that it did not employ spherical
coordinates or map transformations. Thus the Jesuit surveys were
not representative of what Chinese mapmakers were doing or were
even capable of carrying out; the influence of the Jesuit surveys was
limited primarily to the central government.
The claim that the use of early modern maps justifies calling Qing-
dynasty China an early modern map culture comparable to early
modern European map cultures rests on a superficial resemblance.
An equation of Qing China and early modern Europe is possible only
if the use of mathematical maps for the exercise of political control is
the sole criterion of early modernity. But to use this single criterion is
to overlook the many ways in which Qing-dynasty China differed
from early modern Europe intellectually, socially, and economically.
The predominance of the mathematical map in Europe did not come
about simply because of its usefulness for political control and
inventory. Modern cartography is not simply a matter of mapmaking
technique and map use. There is a philosophy of nature associated
with it. That philosophy implies that certain methods, based on
mathematical reasoning, should be used to understand nature. That
philosophy of nature and the emphasis on mathematical reasoning
were largely absent from the Qing scholarly world until late in the
1290 Maps and mapmaking in China

Maps and Mapmaking in China. Fig. 5 Huanghe tu (Map of the Yellow River, nineteenth century, before 1854; detail). This
map is oriented with south at the top and shows flood-control works along the lower course of the Yellow River before 1854.
Distances between places are given in notes on the map, and from these it does not seem that the mapmaker attempted to
maintain a consistent scale. The grid appears to have been drawn after the image was completed, perhaps as an aid to copying. A
manuscript map could not be reproduced by woodblock printing without destroying it, so hand copying skills were important
for mapmakers. Ink and color on silk, 38 × 183 cm. Courtesy of the Library of Congress (G7822.Y4A5 18 – H9 Vault Shelf ).

nineteenth century. Chinese evidentiary scholarship, for example,
does not yield anything resembling Newtonian mechanics. The
inadequacy of the mathematical map as a measure of the modern
becomes clear when one recalls that mathematical maps of the entire
empire were available in China as early as the twelfth century. On
that basis one could locate, as some have on other grounds, early
modern China in the Song dynasty. The problem is that after the
twelfth century Chinese mapmakers generally turned away from the
mathematical.
Furthermore, a number of political, social, and intellectual
developments occurring in early modern Western Europe did not
occur in Qing-dynasty China – for example, those fostering the
formation of modern democratic institutions. One could argue that
those conditions still have not fully arisen in China. A case in point is
the dissemination of information. Modern mathematical maps were
widely circulated among the middle class in Europe; it was simply
not the case that modern maps were understood and used only by a
few in early modern Europe. Such widespread familiarity with
modern mathematical maps was slow to come in Qing-dynasty
China, if it ever did come. It does not seem likely that left to
themselves, Chinese mapmakers would have developed the map
transformations of modern cartography. In fact they tended to resist
them and what they implied about the world’s size and shape. Map
transformations are predicated on an understanding that the earth is
spherical; Chinese mapmakers before the late nineteenth century
generally dealt with the earth’s surface as if it were flat. Modern
cartographic techniques may be available to anyone in principle, but
historically they have not been acceptable to everyone. There was
something that stopped Chinese mapmakers from adopting the map
transformations brought by the Jesuits. Qing rulers used early modern
cartography, but Chinese mapmakers did not produce early modern
maps until late in the nineteenth century. If one wants to understand
what Chinese mapmakers were doing under the Qing, one does not
study the maps produced as a result of the Jesuit surveys. They had
little effect on Chinese mapmakers. They did not participate in the
modern cartographic revolution until well after the Jesuit surveys.
This statement may perpetuate an image of a China resistant to
change, but in making their own maps, they were. The image in some
cases is justified.
In addition, to describe the Jesuit atlases as Chinese is to portray
the Jesuits simply as Qing operatives – a disingenuous characteriza-
tion at best. The Jesuits had their own purposes for carrying out the
surveys. Their information was not intended solely for the Qing
court. It was sent back to Europe where it had more influence on
mapmakers than in China. There it changed the cartographic image of
China, made it more accurate, and the importance of that geographic
information for economic expansion is well known.
What is being said here is not to deny that European maps and
Chinese maps have some similarities. Otherwise it would not make
sense to speak of European and Chinese “maps.” In both traditions
pictorial and mathematical mapmaking were practiced. But the two
traditions differed in the valuation placed on the two modes of
mapmaking. In China pictorial mapmaking became dominant; in
Europe mathematical mapmaking became dominant. In one history,
text was more important than image as a bearer of information; in the
other text was less important and was moved to the margins and
eventually off the map. Among Chinese mapmakers there was little
movement toward marginalizing text. Indeed, practices of eviden-
tiary scholarship made the study of texts central.
As far as mapmaking is concerned, the evidence so far does not
allow one to identify a specific dynastic period as equivalent to early
modern Europe. The attempt to do so seems to privilege what
happened in Western Europe as a norm when it is by no means clear
that all societies have to go the way of Europe. It still makes sense to
distinguish Western European culture from Chinese culture, as recent
political events make abundantly clear.

See also: ▶Zhang Heng, ▶Armillary Spheres, ▶Geo-
mancy in China, ▶Maps and Mapmaking: Chinese
Geomantic Maps, ▶Shen Gua (or Kuo)
References
Cao, Wanru et al. eds. Zhongguo gudai ditu ji (An Atlas
of Ancient Maps in China). 3 vols. Beijing: Wenwu
chubanshe, 1990–1997.
Cartography in China. Chaps. 3–9 of The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 2. Cartography in the
Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies. Ed. J. B.
Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1994.
Chen, Cheng-siang. The Historical Development of Cartog-
raphy in China. Progress in Human Geography 2 (1978):
101–20.
Dahlen, Martha. The Vanishing Border: A Retrospective of
China and Hong Kong Through Maps. Hong Kong: Credit
Lyonnais Securities Asia, 1997.
Hostetler, Laura. Qing Colonia Enterprise: Ethnography and
Cartography in Early Modern China. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 2001.
Hu, Philip K., comp. and ed. Visible Traces: Rare Books and
Special Collections from the National Library of China.
New York: Queens Borough Public Library; Beijing:
National Library of China, 2000.
Li, Xiaocong. Ouzhou shoucang bufen Zhongwen gu ditu
xulu (A Descriptive Catalog of pre-1900 Maps Seen in
Europe). Beijiing: Guoji wenhua chuban gongsi, 1996.
Liu, Zhenwei ed. Zhongguo gu ditu (Collection of China’s
Ancient Maps). Beijing: China Esperanto Press, 1995.
Mills, J. V. G. Ying-yai sheng-lan: “The Overall Survey of the
Ocean’s Shores” [1433]. Trans. Ma Huan. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1970.
Needham, Joseph, et al. Science and Civilisation in China.
Vol. 3. Mathematics and the Sciences of the Heavens and
the Earth, 1959. Vol. 4, Physics and Physical Technology.
Pt. 1. Physics, 1962; Pt. 3. Civil Engineering and Nautics,
1971. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1954.
Smith, Richard. Chinese Maps: Images of “All under
Heaven.” Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.
---. Mapping China’s World: Cultural Cartography in Later
Imperial Times. Landscape, Culture, and Power in Chinese
Society. Ed. Wen-hsin Yeh. 52–109. Berkeley: Institute of
East Asian Studies, University of California, 1998.
Taylor, D. R. F. Recent Developments in Cartography in the
People’s Republic of China. Cartographica 24.3 (1987):
1–22.
Unno, Kazutaka. “Tōyō chizugakushi” (A Bibliographi-
cal Review of the History of Asian Cartography: from
the End of the Second World War). Kagakushi kenkyū
(Journal of History of Science, Japan), 2d series, 30 (1991):
1–14.
Woodward, David, Catherine Delano-Smith, and Cordell
D. K. Yee. Approaches and Challenges in a Worldwide
History of Cartography. Barcelona: Institut Cartogràfic de
Catalunya, 2001.
Yan, Ping, et al. China in Ancient and Modern Maps.
London: Sotheby’s, 1998.
Yee, Cordell D. K. Space and Place: Mapmaking East and
West; Four Hundred Years of Western and Chinese
Cartography. Annapolis: St John’s College Press, 1996.
Maps and mapmaking: Chinese geomantic maps 1291
Maps and Mapmaking: Chinese
Geomantic Maps
H ONG -K EY Y OON
The Chinese geomantic map is a type of cartographic
expression of a landform that portrays a place as
geomantically auspicious or inauspicious. In search
of an auspicious site for a grave, settlement, temple,
or house, geomancers often make extensive field
surveys using compasses. Determining an auspicious
site, which is often found on a foothill, is a complex
business achieved by considering landforms, water-
courses, and the direction that the locality faces. The
results of important surveys are often recorded in maps.
Although the geomantic sketch map is a large-scale
map, the scale is not accurate beyond the immediate
area of the auspicious site, because the map is normally
based on eye measurements and impressionistic
descriptions of a locality.
Chinese geomantic maps have basically the same
surveying and cartographic methods and identical or
similar map symbols. A geomantic map may represent
an auspicious site (the geomancy cave: normally desig-
nated as a grave or a house site) by the symbol of
a small single circle or an even smaller circle inside a
small circle. A geomantic map is a topographic map M
featuring mountain ranges most prominently, because
the auspicious vital energy is said to flow through
these ranges before accumulating in a geomancy cave.
Mountain ranges are expressed in stylized but realistic
shapes, using different symbols for different parts of
a mountain: a single black line marks the end of foothills
and the beginning of flat land; a serrated demarcation
line shows slopes along the edge of mountain ridges;
the mountain ridges and peaks are colored black. Broken
lines symbolize a smaller watercourse. A broken line
with a solid line on one side may represent a bigger
river. A large lake, river or sea may adopt the symbol
of scales, which are also used in other types of maps
in East Asia.
The first main characteristic of a geomantic map is
that it is a center-oriented map. The focus of the map
is on the auspicious site of a given landscape which
normally occupies the central position of the map. In
the depiction of the topographic formations, only the
mountains facing the auspicious site are presented in
the map.
The second interesting point concerns the perspec-
tives on the map. The point of perspective on the
modern topographic map of contour lines is in the sky
directly above the concerned landform. However, that
for the relief formations of the mountain slopes on the
geomantic map is on the ground at the auspicious site,
1292 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map
while that for watercourses on the map is in the sky
directly above the waters concerned.
The third point is that there is a lack of map
symbols indicating cardinal direction. Unlike modern
maps, the top of the geomantic map is assumed to be
southward, because an auspicious site is normally
facing a southern direction. Although geomancy maps
did not adopt a symbol of direction, the exact direc-
tion that an auspicious site faces is often noted with
Chinese characters which enable a map reader to tell
directions.
The fourth point is that the geomantic maps are
generally large scale maps focusing on a small
catchment area or a small basin. Other non-geomantic
traditional Chinese maps are normally small-scale maps.
The fifth point concerns the emphasis on mountain
ranges in the map. Especially emphasized are the
relationships between the key mountain ranges en-
circling an auspicious site because mountain ranges are
believed to be the route of the flow of qi (vital energy)
which influences people auspiciously.
The origin of cartographic skills used in the
geomantic map is not clearly understood yet by modern
scholars. Fully developed geomantic maps had already
appeared in a Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) geomantic
manual, Renze Shuji. The technique of presenting relief
formations in Chinese geomantic maps is perhaps
more sophisticated than that on any other type of
map in traditional China. However, their cartographic
contribution is yet to be evaluated.
References
Nemeth, D. A Cross-Cultural Cosmographic Interpretation of
Some Korean Geomancy Maps. Cartographica 30.1
(1993): 85–97.
Xu Shanji, and Xu Shanshu. Renze Shuji. Xinzhu, Taiwan:
Zhulin Shuzhu, 1969.
Yoon, H. The Image of Nature in Geomancy. GeoJournal
4(4): 341–8, 1980.
---. The Expression of Landforms in Chinese Geomantic
Maps. Cartographic Journal 29 (1992): 12–15.
---. The Traditional Standard Korean Maps and Geomancy,
New Zealand Map Society Journal 6 (1992): 3–9.
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin
Papyrus Map
J AMES A. H ARRELL
Discovery and Reconstruction of the Map
An ancient Egyptian map drawn on a scroll of papyrus
paper was discovered between 1814 and 1821 by
agents of Bernardino Drovetti, the French Consul
General in Egypt. The map came from a private tomb in
the ancient village of Deir el-Medina, near the modern-
day city of Luxor (ancient Thebes) in Egypt (Fig. 1).
This village housed the workers responsible for
excavating and decorating the royal tombs of the
Egyptian New Kingdom (1539–1075 BCE) in the
nearby Valley of Kings and Valley of Queens (Černy
1973; Bierbrier 1982; Romer 1984). Soon after it was
found, the map was sold to King Charles Felix, ruler of
the northern Italian Kingdom of Sardenia and Pied-
mont. In 1824, this king established the Egyptian
Museum in Turin, the kingdom’s capital, and here the
map has resided ever since. The many map fragments
were originally considered parts of three separate
papyri that were designated as “Papyrus or P. Turin”
1869, 1879, and 1899. Most of these fragments were
eventually recombined to form a single map about 280
cm long by 41 cm wide (Fig. 2). This papyrus has long
been recognized as one of the oldest geographical maps
to survive from antiguity and much has been written
about it (e.g., Gardiner 1914; Goyon 1949; Shore 1987;
Harrell and Brown 1992).
The current reconstruction of the map in the
Egyptian Museum, which dates to the early 1900s, is
incorrect in several of its details. A new arrangement of
the map fragments has been proposed and this is shown
in Figs. 3–6. The principal changes are the transposi-
tion of map fragments H-J and E, the placement of L at
the bottom of E, and the narrowing of gaps between
many of the fragments (which shortens the map to
about 210 cm). This new reconstruction is consistent
with the requirements that:
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.
Fig. 1 Map of Egypt showing the locations of Deir
el-Medina, the Valley of Kings, and Wadi Hammamat.

1. the adjoining fragments should correlate closely in
terms of the features drawn on the map side, the texts
and drawings on the map’s backside (Figs. 7–8), and
the fiber patterns in the papyrus paper;
2. the width of the fragments and the spacing between
the breaks within them should match for those
fragments that are vertically juxtaposed; and
3. the topography and geology of the area shown
on the map should be taken into account. Figs. 3 and
5–8 are computer-generated photo-mosaics derived
from digital scans of photographs taken of the
papyrus.
The map was rolled up when discovered and
subsequently handled, and this explains the espe-
cially poor preservation of the rightmost portion in
Fig. 3, which formed the outer abraded surface of
the scroll. An unknown amount of the papyrus has
been lost at its right edge and so fragments K and
N-P cannot be correctly placed. The map is not
truncated here, but drawings of an unknown number
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.
Fig. 2 The arrangement of the papyrus map fragments as
currently displayed in the Egyptian Museum in Turin, Italy
(adapted from Goyon 1949: Pl. 1 and 2; and reproduced in
Harrell and Brown 1992: Fig. 2). The texts are identified by
numbers (as in Fig. 4 and Table 1), and the fragments are
identified by letters (as in Figs. 4–8 and Table 3).
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 3 Papyrus map as reconstructed by Harrell and Brown (1992).
Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map 1293
of stone blocks and the accompanying texts are
missing. The Egyptian Museum has many small map
fragments that it left out of its reconstruction (and are
also missing from Figs. 3–8) and eventually these
pieces of the puzzle will be added to create a more
complete map.
Topographic and Geologic Content of the Map
The Turin papyrus map is notable for being the only
topographic map to survive from ancient Egypt and
also for being one of the earliest maps in the world with
real geographic content. Although there are a few older
topographic maps from outside Egypt, they are all quite
crude and rather abstract in comparison to the relatively
modern-looking map drawn on the Turin papyrus.
This map shows a 15 km stretch of Wadi Hammamat
(Valley of Many Baths) in the central part of Egypt’s
Eastern Desert (Fig. 1). The top is oriented toward the
south and the source of the Nile River with west on
the right side and east to the left. There is no constant
scale used on the map, but by comparison with the
actual distances in Wadi Hamamat it is evident that
the scale varies between 50 and 100 m for each 1 cm on
the map.
The topography and geology of the Wadi Hamma-
mat area are shown in Fig. 9. The corresponding
features on the ancient and modern maps are indicated
by the colored lines in Figs. 4 and 9. From the good M
agreement between these maps, it can be seen that the
papyrus clearly depicts Wadi Hammamat’s long course
and eventual confluence with wadis Atalla and el-Sid,
the surrounding hills (shown as stylized conical forms
with wavy flanks that are laid out flat on both sides of
the valleys), the quarry for bekhen-stone, and the gold
mine and settlement at Bir Umm Fawakhir (Well of the
Mother of Pottery). Bekhen-stone (geologically, meta-
graywacke sandstone and siltstone) is a beautiful
grayish–green ornamental stone that was highly prized
by the ancient Egyptians. The only quarry was in Wadi
Hammamat, and this was worked sporadically from the
Early Dynastic period through Roman times (about
1294 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 4 Schematic of the papyrus map showing the reconstruction by
Harrell and Brown (1992: Fig. 3). The numbers refer to texts and the letters to map fragments as in Fig. 2. Corresponding
features on this map and the modern one in Fig. 9 are indicated by the colored lines.

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 5 The left (eastern) half of the papyrus map. See Table 1 for
translations of the texts (as numbered in Figs. 2 and 4).

3000 BCE to 400 AD). The gold mine at Bir Umm
Fawakhir was active during the New Kingdom and
again in the Ptolemaic through Early Byzantine periods
(about 1500 BCE to 600 AD).
Fragment A shows five cultural features associated
with the gold-mining settlement, including: four
houses, a temple dedicated to the God Amun (the
large white area subdivided by walls), a monument
stone honoring King Sety I (1290–1279 BCE of the
New Kingdom’s 19th Dynasty), a water reservoir, and,
at the confluence of wadis Hammamat and el-Sid, a
water well with an encircling wall that casts a shadow
on its right side. The brown patch of ground opposite
the settlement may represent an area where either mine
tailings were dumped or farming was practiced.
On map fragments A and H, within the main valley
represented by multicolored dots, there are three small
drawings of trees, which from their form can be
identified as Tamarisks. The tree on fragment H
(Fig. 10), which is drawn upside-down, is just opposite
the bekhen-stone quarry (the green oval at the base of
the brownish black hill) and at the center of the sharp
bend in the valley. On the ancient map, this is the
only major bend in Wadi Hammamat prior to its
confluence with Wadi Atalla. As seen in Fig. 9,
however, Wadi Hammamat actually has many sharp
bends as well as wide meanderings. Because the
ancient map was drawn on a papyrus scroll, which
would have resembled a modern roll of paper towels,
the author did not have the freedom to show the
 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map 1295

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 6 The right (western) half of the papyrus map. See Table 1 for
translations of the texts (as numbered in Figs. 2 and 4).

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 7 The backside of the left (eastern) half of the papyrus map. See
Table 3 for comments on the texts.

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 8 The backside of the right (western) half of the papyrus map.
See Table 3 for comments on the texts and drawings.
1296 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 9 Topographic (above) and geologic (below) maps of Wadi
Hammamat (adapted from Harrell and Brown 1992: Fig. 4). Corresponding features on this map and the ancient one in Fig. 4
are indicated by the colored lines.
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.
Fig. 10 Detail of the papyrus map (fragment H) showing an
upside down tree in the wadi directly opposite from the
bekhen-stone quarry, which is shown as a greenish oval
embedded within the brownish black hillside.
true wandering course of Wadi Hammamat and so
included only the most important bend, the one near
the bekhen-stone quarry.
The papyrus map also has numerous annotations
written in hieratic script (the cursive form of hiero-
glyphic writing) that identify the features shown on the
map (see Table 1 for translations), including: the
destinations of the valley routes (texts 1–3, 9, and 16
on fragment A), the distance between the bekhen-stone
quarry and gold mine (text 17 on fragment E), the
location of gold deposits in the hills (texts 4–5, 11–12,
and 16′ on fragments A and D), the gold-mining
settlement (texts 6–8 and 10 on fragment A), the
bekhen-stone quarry (text 20 on fragment H), and the
sizes of the quarried bekhen-stone blocks (texts 23 and
25–28 on fragments M-P). Text 18 on fragment F is
especially important for understanding the purpose of
the map because it refers to a bekhen-stone quarrying
expedition and the destination of the quarried blocks.
Besides being a topographic map of surprisingly
modern aspect, the Turin papyrus is also a geologic
map because it accurately shows the geographic
distribution of different rock types (the black hills with
Hammamat siliciclastics, and the pink hills with
Dokhan volcanics, Atalla serpentinite and Fawakhir
granite) and the lithologically diverse wadi gravel (the
brown, green, and white dots within the main valley
that represent different kinds of rocks), and it also
contains information on quarrying and mining (see
Table 2 for a description of the geologic units).
Additionally notable are the representation of iron-
stained, gold-bearing quartz veins with three radiating
bands on the pink hill above the gold-mining settlement
on fragment A (beneath text 5), and text 11 on fragment
A, which reads very much like a legend on modern
 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map 1297

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Table 1 Translations of the Hieratic Texts on the Map Side of the
Turin Papyrus (Adapted from Harrell and Brown 1992: Table 1)

Text Translation
number1

1 the road that leads to the sea

2 another road that leads to the sea
3 the road of Tent-p-mer [the translation of the last word is uncertain – it may be the name of an unknown locality or
it may mean “treasurer” or “harbor”]
4 mountains of gold
5 mountains of gold
6 the houses of the gold-working settlement
7 cistern [or “water reservoir”; the text is written on top of the water sign]
8 stela of Menma’atre, life, health, and prosperity! [King Sety I, 1290–1279 BCE, of the New Kingdom’s 19th
Dynasty]2
9 the road of Ta-menti [the last word is apparently the name of an unknown locality]
10 the shrine of Amun of the pure mountain
11 the mountains in which gold is worked, they are colored pink
12 mountains of gold and silver [or perhaps “mountains of electrum”, where electrum is a natural mixture of gold and
silver]
13 …the hill of Amun
14 the hill where Amun rests
15 [not translatable; appears to be part of a name for some locality]
16 [too fragmentary to translate, but it appears to be comments on travel from one unnamed locality to another; a
travel time of “one day” and “gold” are mentioned]
16′ mountains of gold [appears to be a continuation of 16 but is a separate text]
17 distance from the gold-working settlement to the mountain of bekheny,…khet [this text is repeated three times,
apparently for emphasis; the distance in units of khet is missing]3,4
18 …the bekheny-stone that is found in the mountain of bekheny, the King…[name lost] life, health, prosperity, having
sent the great magistrates to bring the portrait statue of bekheny-stone…to Egypt. They deposited it in the Place of
Truth beside the Temple of Userma’atre setepenre, the great God [i.e., near the Valley of Kings at the mortuary M
temple of Ramesses II, 1279–1213 BCE, of the New Kingdom’s 19th Dynasty; also known as the Ramesseum]…
left it at the enclosure of the Tomb and there it lay being half worked in year 63
19 [not translatable]
20 the place in which they work in the great business of bekhen-stone which was established as a quarry
21 the measurement of this…
22 [not translatable]
23 …of stone that is pulled by men from the east…3 cubits wide [about 1.6 m]4
24 …bekheny…
25 breadth of 2 cubits, 2 palms [about 1.2 m]; thickness of 2 cubits, 3 palms…fingers [about 1.3 m]
26 breadth of 2 cubits [about 1.0 m]; thickness of 2 cubits
27 …palms…fingers
28 …palms; thickness of 2 cubits…palms
1
See Figs. 2 or 4 for locations of texts. Note that “…” indicates missing text, untranslated ancient Egyptian words are italicized, and comments
are given within brackets.
2
All dates in this article are taken from p. 36–37 of Baines and Malek (2000).
3
Texts 17 and 18 are written in a script that is bold, calligraphic and near-hieroglyphic in style. All other texts are written in a less elaborate
hieratic script.
4
The ancient Egyptian units of measure are as follows: 1 khet = 100 cubits; 1 cubit (the standardized distance from the elbow to the tip of the
longest finger) = 7 palms (palm widths) = 28 fingers (finger widths); 1 cubit = 52.31 cm, 1 palm = 7.47 cm, 1 finger = 1.87 cm.

geologic maps by explaining what the pink coloring
represents. The Turin papyrus is the oldest known
geologic map in the world and it is all the more
remarkable considering that it would be another 2900
years before the next geologic map was made and this
was in France during the mid-1700s. There is no reason
to think, however, that the ancient author intentionally
set out to make a geologic map. From the colors used
for the hills and wadi gravel, it is evident that he merely
drew what he literally saw in the desert – the real hills
and surface gravels have the same general colors as
those on the map (Table 2).
1298 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Table 2 Geologic Units in the Wadi Hammamat Area as Shown on
the Map in Fig. 9 (Adapted from Harrell and Brown 1992: Table 4)

Geologic age Name Description

Quaternary Wadi Alluvium Sand with lithologically diverse pebbles and cobbles of many colors but especially
white, pink, brown, dark gray, and green.
Upper Nubia Sandstone. From a distance appears purplish-black due to a coating of “desert
Cretaceous Sandstone varnish”.
Late Fawakhir Granite and granodiorite with abundant iron-stained, gold-bearing, hydrothermal
Precambrian Granite quartz veins. From a distance appears pink to pale red due to natural coloring.
Hammamat A variety of slightly metamorphosed sedimentary rocks, including (meta) greywacke
Siliciclastics sandstone to siltstone (the ancient Egyptian bekhen-stone), conglomerate and shale.
From a distance appears dark brownish-gray due to a coating of “desert varnish”.
Dokhen A variety of slightly metamorphosed volcanic rocks, including (meta) rhyolite,
Volcanics andesite, and basalt. From a distance appears pinkish-brown due to weathering.
Atalla Serpentinite. From a distance appears pinkish-brown due to weathering.
Serpentinite

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.

Fig. 11 Amennakhte, son of Ipuy (modified from Romer
1984: p. 115). Redrawn from a relief carving on a stela
erected in Thebes by his family after his death (now in the
New York Metropolitan Museum of Art).
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.
Fig. 12 Ramesses IV’s year-three stela (CM 12) in Wadi
The Map’s Author and Purpose Hammamat’s bekhen-stone quarry.
The map was made about 1150 BCE by the well-known
“Scribe of the Tomb” Amennakhte, son of Ipuy (Romer
1984: 106–115) (Fig. 11). It was prepared for one of
the quarrying expeditions sent to Wadi Hammamat by other notables. A now famous rock-cut inscription or
King Ramesses IV (1156–1150 BCE) of the New stela (officially designated CM 12) was left on the
Kingdom’s 20th Dynasty (Peden 1994). The purpose of quarry wall by this king to commemorate his final and
these expeditions was to obtain blocks of bekhen-stone largest expedition during the third year of his six-year
that would be carved into statues of the gods, king and reign (Christophe 1948) (Fig. 12). According to the
 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map 1299

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Table 3 Comments on the Hieratic Texts and Drawings on the
Backside of the Turin Papyrus Map (Adapted from Harrell and Brown 1992: Table 3)

Map fragment1 Comments

A (across top) Synopsis: Amennakhte, in his house one morning, bears witness to a sworn oath and
statement (not recorded in the text) by a “citizen” (name lost). Signed by Scribe of the Tomb
Amennakhte (date lost). [this is almost certainly the earliest text written on the backside
because Egyptian scribes filled in scrolls from top to bottom and right to left]
A (left half & top of right half ) Synopsis: A wooden statue of Ramesses VI is to be carved, and ornamented with a kilt of
gold, and a crown of lapis lazuli (and another mineral?). It is to be placed in the mortuary
temple of Ramesses II (the Ramesseum) in the Chapel of Hathor for the purpose of
establishing a cult for the worship of Ramesses VI. The required offerings on festival days
and the duties of the temple personnel attached to this cult are also described. [unsigned and
undated, but Amennakhte’s handwriting]
A (the rest of the right half )2 Synopsis, Part 1: Hori went to Karnak Temple in Thebes at the summons of Ramessenakhte,
the High Priest of Amun. There he was told to gather a large quantity of copper [which
would have been used for the tools wielded by the workers excavating the royal and private
tombs] and bring them to the Temple. Hori returned to the necropolis in the company of two
Guards of the Treasury, Paynodjom and Amenmose son of Tjewenany, and the servant
Pnekhemope. Dated year 6, 3rd month of Akhet, day 20.
Synopsis, Part 2: Hori returned to Karnak Temple in the company of Paynodjom and
Amenmose plus the two Foremen of the Tomb, Nekhemmut (Hori’s brother) and Anherkhe.
They met with Ramessenkhte and turned over the requested copper to the Scribe
Khonsmose, who received it for the Treasury of Amun. Dated year 6, 4th month of Akhet,
day 7. Signed by Scribe of the Tomb Hori, son of Khons.
A (upper right edge), B & D [untranslated, but possibly Hori’s handwriting]
A (lower right corner) & C [untranslated, but the handwriting is that of either Amennakhte or another, unknown scribe]
D (right edge & upper part of [untranslated, but the handwriting is that of either Hori or another, unknown scribe]
left edge)
H (right half ), I & J [untranslated, but appears to be a list, possibly of statues and their associated festival days;
the large, bold, calligraphic and near-hieroglyphic script in this text is like that in texts 17 M
and 18 on the map side, and probably is Amennakhte’s handwriting in his more formal
script]
J (upper right edge), [untranslated, but appears to be a memorandum plus a hymn, possibly to Horus, that is in
F (upper two-thirds of left half ) Amennakhte’s handwriting]
F (lower one-third of left half ) [untranslated, but the handwriting may be that of Amennakhte or another, unknown scribe]
F (right half ) [untranslated, but Amennakhte’s handwriting]
G [untranslated, but Amennakhte’s handwriting]
E [untranslated, but possibly Hori’s handwriting]
extending across the bottom edge [untranslated, but one long line of text in possibly Hori’s handwriting]
of A, C, H, I, J, F, G, E, L & M
L & M (lower right edge) drawing showing a scattering of squarish pebbles (?) plus two curved parallel lines, the latter
similar to those used to indicate wadis on the map side
M a grid-square in red ink with fragmentary drawings of the sky goddess Nut, and below, the
god of air and light, Shu, or perhaps the god of Earth, Geb; a tiny stick-man is standing on
Nut’s back
M (top) drawing of a crocodile
N fragmentary drawings of a tree trunk (palm?) and a wing (either the vulture Goddess Nekbet
or the falcon god Horus)
1
See Figs 7 and 8 for locations of map fragments. Fragments K, O, and P have no texts or drawings.
2
The gist of these two texts has been revised from Harrell and Brown (1992: Table 3) based on a new translation by Janssen (1994).

inscription, this included 8,362 men, which makes it the
largest recorded quarrying expedition to Wadi Hamma-
mat after one about 800 years earlier during the Middle
Kingdom’s 12th Dynasty. It is almost certainly for
Ramesses IV’s big expedition that the map was made,
but what purpose it served is unclear. It could not have
been a road map showing the way to the quarry because
it only covers a small area with the 75 km between Wadi
Hammamat and the Nile Valley excluded. Most likely, it
was drawn as a visual record of the expedition to be
1300 Maps and mapmaking in Egypt: Turin papyrus map
viewed by either Ramesses IV or Ramessenakhte, the
High Priest of Amun in Thebes, who organized the
expedition for the king.
Although Amennakhte did not sign his name to the
map, it is clear that he is its author. There are two
pieces of evidence that support this identification. First,
the text on the map side is in Amennakhte’s distinctive
handwriting, which is well known to Egyptologists
who have studied his many other writings. And second,
the first and earliest text on the backside of the papyrus
(the first one listed in Table 3) was written and signed
by Amennakhte. It is not at all surprising that
Amennakhte would have made the map. As one of the
two “Scribes of the Tomb” during Ramesses IV’s reign
(along with Hori, son of Khons, who also wrote some of
the later texts on the back), Amennakhte was an
important administrative official in the Theban region
and this is where the map (text 18) says the blocks
of bekhen-stone were taken. He is well known from
his many other surviving works to be an individual with
an unusual combination of scribal, cartographic and
artistic skills as well as a “sense of geology”. These
attributes are especially well displayed on another of his
papyri in Turin’s Egyptian Museum. This is an
architectural plan of Ramesses IV’s tomb in the Valley
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map.
Fig. 13 Ramesses IV’s tomb plan drawn by Amennakhte,
son of Ipuy (now in Turin’s Egyptian Museum).
Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 14 Ruins of the ancient village of Deir el-Medina, Egypt.
Amennakhte’s family tomb (no. 1338) is excavated into the hillside on the right, and his house (highlighted in red) is inside the
rectangular, walled precinct at center.
of Kings (Carter and Gardiner 1917) (Fig. 13). It is by
far the most elaborate and sophisticated tomb plan to
survive from ancient Egypt. It has Amennakhte’s
distinctive handwriting labeling the parts of the tomb
and giving their dimensions, and on the back is his last
will and testament. The plan also includes elements of
geology, such as a drawing of the king’s sarcophagus
in the central burial chamber painted to resemble
the pink granite of Aswan from which it was carved,
and the location of the tomb under a mountain of
well-layered, inclined strata, which is an accurate
depiction of the situation in the Valley of Kings.
It is now known that Drovetti obtained both the
quarry map and tomb plan, along with many other
papyri, from Amennakhte’s family tomb at Deir
el-Medina. If the map was made for Ramesses IV’s
big quarrying expedition then why did Amennakhte
keep it, and why did he and others reuse its backside for
documents and drawings unrelated to the map? The
answer to the first question is unknown, but that to the
second is clear. Because papyrus paper was an
expensive commodity in ancient Egypt, it was common
practice among scribes to use the originally blank
backsides once whatever was written or drawn on the
front side was no longer needed. In other words, the
papyrus map became scrap paper after the quarrying
expedition it recorded lost its importance, perhaps
following Ramesses IV’s death a few years after the
map was made.
Amennakhte’s family tomb still exists as does,
remarkably, his house in Deir el-Medina (Figs. 14
and 15). That it is his house is known from an inscribed
door jamb, now removed for safe keeping that graced
its entrance. It is interesting to contemplate that it
may be in this very place where one of the world’s
oldest and most important maps was made over 3100
years ago.

Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Papyrus Map. Fig. 15 House of Amennakhte, son of Ipuy in the ancient village of
Deir El-Medina, Egypt. Only the ground floor (with four rooms) survives, but the remains of stairs (not visible) indicate that
there was a roof terrace where people could work or sleep.
See also: ▶Mining in Egypt
References
Baines, J. and J. Malek Cultural Atlas of Ancient Egypt
revised ed. New York: Checkmark Books, 2000.
Bierbrier, M. L. The Tomb-Builders of the Pharaohs. London:
British Museum Publications, 1982. [republished by
American University in Cairo Press, Cairo, 1989]
Carter, H. and A. H. Gardiner. The Tomb of Ramesses IV and
the Turin Plan of a Royal Tomb. Journal of Egyptian
Archaeology 4 (1917): 130–58.
Černy, J. A. Community of Workmen at Thebes in the
Ramesside Period. Cairo: Institut Francais d’Archéologie
Oriental, 1973.
Christophe, L. La stele de l’an III de Ramsès IV au Ouâdi
Hammâmât (No. 12). Bulletin de l’Institut Francais
d’Archéologie Orientale 48 (1948): 1–38.
Gardiner, A. H. The Map of the Gold Mines in a Ramesside
Papyrus at Turin. Cairo Scientific Journal 8 (1914): 41–6.
Goyon, G. Le Papyrus de Turin: dit des Mines d’or et le Wadi
Hammamat. Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte
49 (1949): 337–92.
Harrell, J. A. and V. M. Brown. The Oldest Surviving
Topographical Map from Ancient Egypt (Turin Papyri
1879, 1899, and 1969). Journal of the American Research
Center in Egypt 29 (1992): 81–105.
Janssen, J. J. An Exceptional Event at Deir El-Medina
(P. Turin 1879, verso II). Journal of the American Research
Center in Egypt 31 (1994): 91–7.
Peden, A. J. The Reign of Ramesses IV. Warminster: Aris and
Phillips (1994).
Romer, J. Ancient Lives: The Story of the Pharaoh’s Tomb
Makers. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1984.
Scamuzzi, E. Egyptian Art in the Egyptian Museum of Turin.
New York: H. N. Abrams, 1965.
Shore, A. F. Egyptian Cartography. The History of Cartography.
Ed. J. B. Harley and D. Woodward. Volume 1: Cartography
in Prehistoric, Ancient, and Medieval Europe and the Medi-
terranean. Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 1987. 117–29.
Maps and mapmaking in India 1301
Maps and Mapmaking in India
J OSEPH E. S CHWARTZBERG
In comparison to Europe, the Islamic world, and East
Asia, the cartographic achievements of South Asia
appear modest and until the 1980s were scarcely M
recognized by historians of science. In recent years, new
archaeological evidence, surviving sacred and secular
texts, and other evidence have led to a change in
scholarly opinion. We now believe that some form of
mapping was practiced in what is now India as early as
the Mesolithic period, that surveying dates as far back
as the Indus Civilization (ca. 2500–1900 BCE), and
that the construction of large-scale plans, cosmographic
maps, and other cartographic works has occurred
continuously at least since the late Vedic age (first
millennium BCE). Because of the ravages of climate and
vermin, surviving maps from prior to the eighteenth
century are rare and are largely in stone, metal, or
ceramic. However, cosmographies painted on cloth date
back at least to the fifteenth century, while palm leaf
architectural plans from seventeenth-century Orissa are
believed to be copies of manuscripts originally prepared
as early as the twelfth century. Few surviving maps on
paper predate the eighteenth century.
Though not numerous, a number of map-like graffiti
appear among the thousands of Stone Age Indian cave
paintings; and at least one complex Mesolithic diagram
is believed to be a representation of the cosmos. Other
map-like grafitti continued to be produced by tribal
Indians over most of the historic period. The principal
reason for supposing that surveying was a feature of the
Indus civilization is that the regularity of its planned
1302 Maps and mapmaking in India
grid-pattern urban settlements could not easily be
achieved without it. Moreover, excavations have
uncovered several objects that appear to have been
simple surveying instruments and measuring rods. The
uniformity and modular dimensions of the bricks for so
much of the architecture over the vast extent of the
Indus civilization are also noteworthy. During the
ensuing period of the Vedic Aryans, the building of
enormous sacrificial altars was an important religious
activity. Texts known as Śulbasūtras set forth in great
detail how these altars were to be constructed and called
for drawing on the ground a plan prefiguring each altar.
Again, a system of modular measures was employed.
The ancient practice of building gigantic altars, once
widespread, has died out over most of India, but
survived into the latter half of the twentieth century in
the Indian state of Kerala. Hindu temples were also built
according to ancient detailed textual prescriptions,
known as Śilpaśāstras, which also specified drawing
on the ground, at full scale, the outline of the structure to
be. That practice is still followed. Comparable, though
simpler, rules applied, at least in theory, to the building
of houses. The Śilpaśāstras also contained a variety of
models for laying out towns and cities; however, the
layout of present-day Indian settlements suggests that
such models were seldom closely followed.
For the historic period, one of the earliest surviving
artifacts that clearly embodies recognizable map symbo-
lizations is an allegorical wall sculpture from Udayagiri
in Madhya Pradesh, ca. AD 400, which shows the
confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna Rivers in
Madhyadesa (the sacred Central Region of India) over
which the then Gupta Empire held sway. Other early
datable works are sculpted bas relief cosmographies,
some of which were quite elaborate. The earliest of these,
depicting Nandīśvaradvīpa, the eighth continent of the
Jain cosmos, was carved in Śaka 1256 (AD 1199–1200).
It may safely be assumed that cosmographic paintings
adorned the walls and portals of many ancient temples
and monasteries of India’s main religious groups –
Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists – just as they still do in Jain
religious edifices and in Buddhist establishments in other
parts of the world. However, largely because of the
ravages of time and partially because of the iconoclasm of
Muslim invaders, virtually none of these survive from
prior to the twelfth century, apart from fragmentary
remains in the Buddhist caves at Ajanta.
Astronomy and its handmaiden astrology were
well developed sciences in ancient India. The major
texts provided detailed observations that enabled latter-
day scholars to prepare elaborate celestial diagrams.
Despite these, there is no unequivocal evidence that
astronomical charts accompanied those early works or
were otherwise drawn. Horoscopes were prepared to
show the positions of major heavenly bodies at
particular times (especially at times of birth), and iconic
representations of those bodies as deities often appeared
in sculpture and paintings, as did the signs of the
zodiac. But none of these were formed into assem-
blages that one would readily designate as maps.
During the Mughal period (1526–1857), however, planar
astrolabes and celestial globes were manufactured in
northwestern India. One Muslim family practiced the
trade in Lahore over a period of several generations.
Though some of these works used Sanskrit, rather than
Persian, as was the norm, in naming various heavenly
bodies, the tradition in which all were made has been
dubbed “Islamicate.” A variety of related objects in the
form of giant masonry instruments appeared in the
astronomical observatories constructed during the period
ca. 1722–1739 by the Rajput king, Sawai Jai Singh, in
his capital at Jaipur and in Delhi, Varanasi, Ujjain, and
Mathura. Many of these are still usable.
At least five Hindu cosmographic globes are known,
all based largely on Purān.ic texts from the mid-first
millennium BCE to the mid-first millennium AD. The
oldest of these is a brass globe, probably from Gujarat,
dated Śaka 1493 (AD 1571). The largest (diameter ca.
45 cm) and most elaborate, and the only one to contain a
substantial component of geographic information along
with its mainly mythic elements, is a papier-maché
globe, probably from eastern India, that appears to date
from the mid-eighteenth century. One of the other globes
is a painted wooden production, also thought to be from
eastern India, probably from the mid-nineteenth century.
Two are late nineteenth century bronze creations of
unknown provenance. Unlike most Western globes,
none of these was constructed with the use of gores, the
triangular or moon-shaped pieces that form the surface
of modern globes.
A number of planispheric world maps also survive.
All but one of these, a crude Marathi map on paper,
probably from the mid-eighteenth century, are essen-
tially Islamicate productions, in which mythic elements
(e.g., the Land of Gog and Magog) coexist with known
geographic places. The largest and most ornate of the
world maps is a richly illuminated eclectic painting on
cloth, with text in Arabic, Hindustani, and Persian; it
probably dates from the eighteenth century and may be
of either Rajasthani or Deccani provenance. Addition-
ally, a 32-sheet atlas of the “Inhabited Quarter” (i.e., the
part of the world suitable for human life), forms part of
a 1647 encyclopedic work by Sadiq Isfahani of Jaunpur
in what is now Uttar Pradesh. The orientation on maps
made by Muslims is typically toward the south.
Indigenous regional maps, mostly from the eigh-
teenth and early nineteenth centuries, derive mainly
form Rajasthan, Kashmir, Maharashtra, and Gujarat,
probably in that order of frequency. These range in size
from very large (several meters on a side) to page-size
productions, the larger works being almost always
painted on cloth. No clear schools of cartography

emerge, though one can usually distinguish among
regions of origin. Map symbols and orientation vary
markedly, though some regional tendencies may be
noted. No map has a consistent scale, though some
contain textual notes on distances between places.
Route maps most commonly appear in strip form,
occasionally as lengthy scrolls, and typically show the
places and physical and man-made features encoun-
tered between two given points. Some route maps,
largely relating to pilgrimages, which frequently take
the form of circuits, are likely to be more complex.
Surviving navigational charts are few in number,
entirely from Gujarat, and in a tradition presumably
derived from the Middle East. The oldest such known
work is dated AD 1710.
The most common genre of maps are those that
relate to relatively small localities, especially individual
towns, as well as plans of specific forts, palaces, temples,
gardens, and tombs. Such maps served many purposes:
guides to pilgrims, aids for engineering projects, plans, or
documents for military activities, commemorations of
historical events, text illustrations, interior adornments,
and so forth. Locality maps typically combine a largely
pictorial rendition of specific structures, drawn in either
an oblique perspective or in frontal elevation, with an
essentially planimetric rendition of the encompassing
space. Hill features on such maps (as well as on regional
maps) are characteristically shown in frontal perspective.
Colors for rendering hills, water features, and vegetation
are naturalistic and not very different from what one
would encounter on Western maps. The largest known
Indian map, depicting the former Rajput capital at
Amber in remarkable house-by-house detail, measures
661 × 645 cm. (260 × 254 in., or approximately
22 × 21 ft).
Although hundreds of Indian maps have now been
studied and described, hundreds of additional recently
discovered works await analysis; and it may be safely
predicted in light of the interest aroused by recent
research that many more maps will soon come to light.
See also: ▶Astrology in India, ▶Astronomy in India,
▶Observatories in India, ▶Jai Singh
References
Arunachalam, B. The Haven-Finding Art in Indian Naviga-
tional Traditions and Cartography. The Indian Ocean:
Explorations in Exploration, Commerce, and Politics.
Ed. Satish Chandra. New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1987.
191–221.
Bahura, Gopal Narayan and Chandramani Singh. Catalogue
of Historical Documents in Kapad Dwara, Jaipur. Part II.
Maps and Plans. Jaipur: Published with the Permission of
the Maharajah of Jaipur, 1990.
Caillat, Collette and Ravi Kumar. The Jain Cosmology. Basel:
Ravi Kumar, 1981.
Maps and mapmaking: Islamic terrestrial maps 1303
Digby, Simon. The Bhugola of Ksema Karna: A Dated
Sixteenth Century Piece of Indian Metalware. AARP (Art
and Archaeology Research Papers) 4 (1973): 10–31.
Gole, Susan. Indian Maps and Plans: From Earliest Times
to the Advent of European Surveys. New Delhi: Manohar,
1989.
Gutschow, Niels, Benares: The Sacred Landscape of
Varanasi, Stuttgart: Edition axel Menges, 2006.
Habib, Irfan. Cartography in Mughal India. Medieval India, a
Miscellany 4 (1977): 122–34. Also Published in Indian
Archives 28 (1979): 88–105.
Savage-Smith, Emilie. Islamicate Celestial Globes: Their
History, Construction, and Use. Washington DC: Smith-
sonian Institution Press, 1985.
Schwartzberg, Joseph E. South Asian Cartography. Part 2.
Cartography in the Traditional Islamic and South Asian
Societies. Vol. 2, Book 1. The History of Cartography. Ed.
J. B. Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1992. 295–509.
Tripathi, Maya Prasad. Development of Geographic
Knowledge in Ancient India. Varanasi: Bharatiya Vidya
Prakashan: 1969.
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic
Terrestrial Maps
A HMET T. K ARAMUSTAFA M
The cultural boundaries of premodern Islamic civiliza-
tion (ca. 700–1850) extended from the Atlantic shores
of Africa to the Pacific Ocean and from the steppes of
Siberia to the islands of South Asia. Widely different
traditions of empirical and theoretical cartography
developed and coexisted within this cultural sphere.
The academic study of these traditions is at its
preliminary stages, and it is likely that further research
will unveil hitherto unknown aspects of the cultural
history of maps in the Islamic world (Figs. 1 and 2).
Practice
If one leaves aside purely literary references to maps
and map use in historical sources for the first three
centuries of Islamic history, the first significant corpus
of Islamic terrestrial maps that survive are those that
accompany texts written by the Balkhī school of
geographers (al-Balkhī, al-Is.t.akhrī, Ibn H.awqal, and
al-Muqaddasī) during the tenth century. This set of
maps normally comprised a world map, maps of the
three seas (the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean, and
the Caspian Sea), and maps of seventeen regions of the
Islamic world. Not based on any projection and lacking
a scale, it is possible that these maps were based on
geographical writings that described the postal routes
and administrative divisions of the Islamic states.
1304 Maps and mapmaking: Islamic terrestrial maps
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps.
Fig. 1 Ibn Hawqal’s map of the world. By permission of the
Topkapi Sarayi Müzesi Kütüphanesi, Istanbul (A. 3346).
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps.
Fig. 2 al-Idrīsī’s world map from the Sofia manuscript. By
permission of the Cyril and Methodius National Library,
Sofia (Or. 3198, fols. 4v-5r).
The other major cartographic school to develop
in this period of Islamic history was the Ptolemaic.
No early specimen of this school survived – the most
spectacular of these seems to have been a world
map produced for the ˓Abbāsid caliph al-Ma˒mūn
(r. 813–33) – and one has to turn to the celebrated
geographical compendium of al-Sharīf al-Idrīsī, entitled
Nuzhat al-mushtāq fi˒˒khtirāq al-āfāq (The Book
of Amusement for Those Yearning to Penetrate
the Horizons) to appreciate fully the strength of the
Ptolemaic cartographic tradition. Al-Idrīsī’s work,
completed in 1154 and accompanied by a large world
map engraved on silver (no longer extant), contained a
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps.
Fig. 3 Yāqūt’s climate map. From Jacut’s geographisches
Wörterbuch, 6 vols, ed. Ferdinand Wüstenfeld (Leipzig: F.A.
Brockhaus, 1866–73), vol. 1, between pp. 28 and 29 (fig. 4).
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps.
Fig. 4 al- Bīrūnī’s seven kishvars. From al- Bīrūnī, Kitāb
al-tafhīm li-avā˒il s.inā˓at al-tanjīm, ed. Jalāl al-Din Humā˒ ī
(Tehran, 1974), 196.
small world map and 70 sectional maps that collectively
represented the whole of the known world. Latitudes
and longitudes, not shown on the maps, were given in
the text (Figs. 3–8).
Cartographic representation of the globe during the
High Caliphal and Early Middle Periods (ca. 700–
1250) was not confined to geographical mapping of the
Balkhī and Ptolemaic schools. In their attempts
to depict the world Muslims also resorted to geograph-
ical diagrams. At least three different traditions of

Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps.
Fig. 5 Seventy-two section scheme of sacred geography. By
permission of the Topkapi Sarayi Müzesi Kütüphanesi,
Istanbul (B. 179, fol. 52r).
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps. Fig. 6 Plan of the fortress of Van. By permission of the Topkapı Sarayi
Müzesi Arşivi, Istanbul (E. 9487).
Maps and mapmaking: Islamic terrestrial maps 1305
diagrammatization were used: the seven-climata
scheme, the seven-kishvar system, and the qibla charts.
The seven-climata scheme, Ptolemaic in origin,
divided the inhabited portion of the earth into seven
zones (Arabic iqlīm) based on latitude calculations. In
the seven-kishvar system, of Persian origin, the
inhabited portion was represented in seven circular
regions (Persian kishvar), arranged so that six of the
regions totally engulfed the seventh central one. The
qibla charts, occasioned by the religious prescription to
perform various ritual acts in the direction of the Ka˓ba
in Mecca, divided the world into four, eight, 11, 12, or
more sectors around the Ka˓ba.
These cartographic traditions, originally developed
during the tenth and eleventh centuries, formed the
basis of further cartographic activity during the Later
Middle Period and the Period of the Great Regional
Empires (ca. 1250–1850). There took place a certain
degree of interaction between the Balkhī and Ptolemaic
schools, the most notable outcome of which was
the attempt to place a graticule on the circular world
map by H.amd Allāh Mustawf ī (d. 1339) and H.āf iz.-i
Abrū (d. 1430). The formation of the Gunpowder
Empires during the sixteenth century opened up new
directions in Islamic mapmaking. We are particularly
well informed about Ottoman maps and mapmaking.
Graphic representation of space was used systemati-
cally for administrative purposes in the spheres of
military operation and state-sponsored architectural
M
construction. At least two new genres, visual itineraries
and town views, were also introduced and heavily used
in illustrated histories produced under imperial patron-
age. Perhaps the most significant and representative of
such spectacular productions – of which over 30 are
extant for the period 1537–1630 – is the Mecmū˓-i
menāzil of Mat.rakçı Nas.ūh. (d. 1564), an account of
1306 Maps and mapmaking: Islamic terrestrial maps

Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps. Fig. 7 Plan of a Turkish bath. By permission of the Bild-Archivder
Österreichischen Nationalbibliothek, Vienna (Cod. 8615, fol. 151a).

Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic Terrestrial Maps. Fig. 8 Plan of Istanbul from the Hünernāme. By permission of the
Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Kütüphanesi, Istanbul (H. 1523, fols. 158b–159a.).
 Maps and mapmaking: Islamic world maps centered on Mecca
Sultan Süleymān I’s campaign into eastern Anatolia,
Persia, and Iraq in 1533–1535. Not much is known on
cartographic production in the Safavid and Mughal
Empires.
Theory
Quite apart from cartographic practice and only tenu-
ously related to it, a strong tradition of rigorous
investigation of the earth was maintained in Islamic
civilization from at least the ninth century onward. In
addition to purely narrative geographical accounts,
serious attention was paid to geodesy – the measure-
ment of distances, or the determination of exact points,
on the curved surface of the earth. As a result, a
considerable number of geographical tables exist in
Arabic and Persian, normally included in astronomical
works. These either list places under climates, with no
longitudes given and only the latitude of the climates
specified, or assign longitude and latitude values for
each place individually. The question of projection was
also addressed in some detail. These theoretical aspects
of Islamic cartography are perhaps best exemplified in
the works of the scholar al-Bīrūnī (d. after 1050),
whose output constitutes the culmination point of
Islamic geodesy.
Map Use
The extant corpus of Islamic maps, when coupled with
purely literary references to cartographic practice,
suggest that the mapping instinct in Islamic civilization
was by and large harnessed to the cause of scholar-
ship and imperial artistic production. The majority of
Islamic map artifacts were produced by the elite for
the elite for the purposes of edification, illustration, and
propagation of imperial glory. Practical application was
the exception rather than the rule and remained
confined to military maps and architectural drawings,
which developed into distinct traditions only in the
Ottoman Empire. The products of elite high culture,
however, were infinitely more likely to be preserved, if
only in literary form, than their popular or folk
counterparts, so that the surviving cartographic record
of premodern Islamic societies is only partially
reflective of everyday mapping practices.
See also: ▶Balkhī, ▶al-Muqqadasī, ▶al-Idrīsī, ▶Qi-
bla, ▶Ottoman Science, ▶Geodesy, ▶al-Bīrūnī
References
Harley, J. B. and David Woodward eds. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 1. Cartography in the
Traditional Islamic and South Asian Societies. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1992.
1307
Johns, Jeremy and Emilie Savage-Smith. The Book of
Curiosities: A Newly Discovered Series of Islamic Maps.
Imago Mundi 55 (2003): 7–24.
Kamal, Youssouf. Monumenta Cartographica Africae et
Aegypti. 5 vols. in 16 pts. Cairo, 1926–51. Facsimile
reprint. 6 vols. ed. Fuat Sezgin. Frankfurt: Institut für
Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften,
1987 [maps].
King, David A. Two Iranian World Maps for Finding the
Direction and Distance to Mecca. Imago Mundi: A Review
of Early Cartography, 1997.
---. World-Maps for Finding the Direction and Distance to
Mecca: Innovation and Tradition in Islamic Science.
London: Al-Farqan Islamic Heritage Foundation/Leiden:
Brill, 1999.
Miller, Konrad. Mappae arabicae: Arabische Welt- und
Länderkarten des 9–13. Jahrhunderts. 6 vols. Stuttgart,
1926–31 [maps].
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic World
Maps Centered on Mecca
D AVID A. K ING
Three remarkable world maps have come to light since
1989. The maps have Mecca at the center and are so
devised that the direction of Mecca (qibla) and distance
to Mecca can be read directly for any locality in the M
Islamic world between Andalusia and China (see the
frontispiece for an illustration of the first world map).
The maps are engraved on circular brass plates of
diameter 22.5 cm and clearly hail from the same
workshop. From considerations of the calligraphy and
decoration they can be associated with Isfahan and dated
ca. 1675. But they are all clearly copied from different
originals, and so they are from a series of such world maps
about which until recently we knew nothing.
The highly sophisticated cartographical grid (see
Fig. 1) is to be used in conjunction with the scale
around the circumference, on which the qibla can be
read, and with the nonuniform scale on the diametral
rule, on which the distance to Mecca in farsakhs can be
read. (A farsakh is equivalent to 3 mile.) There are
some 150 localities marked on each of the maps, but the
selection is not identical: their coordinates are at first
sight based on those in the Sult. ānī Zīj of Ulugh Beg
(Samarqand, ca. 1430), based in turn on those in the
Īlkhānī Zīj of Nas.īr al-Dīn al-T.ūsī (Maragha, ca. 1250),
but there are several localities whose coordinates testify
to the fact that they were taken from the common
source of both the Sult. ānī and Īlkhānī Zījes, namely, the
mysterious anonymous Kitāb al-At. wāl wa-l-˓urūd. li-l-
Furs, a source known to us only from citations by
the astronomerprince Abu’l-Fidā˒ (Hama, ca. 1325).
The Kitāb al-At. wāl wa-l-˓urūd. may be as early as
1308 Maps and mapmaking: Islamic world maps centered on Mecca

the twelfth century. On the other hand several of the
localities in India featured on the maps were not
founded until the early fifteenth century. In fact, the
earliest known geographical table featuring all of
the localities on the two maps is found in a treatise
on the astrolabe compiled in Najaf in 1702/03 by one
Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic World Maps Centered on
Mecca. Fig. 1 The mathematics underlying the theory of
the grid on the Isfahan world maps, enabling the user to
read the qibla on the circumferential scale and the distance on
the diametral scale. An approximation has been used on the
world map so that the latitude curves are arcs of circles; this
produces slight inaccuracies noticeable only on the edges of
the map (that is, in Andalusia and China). Drawn by the
author.
˓Abd al-Rah.īm ibn Muh.ammad, who wrote that he
compiled his table from al-T.ūsī, Ulugh Beg, “and
others.” But he also presented the qiblas and distances
to Mecca for the 274 localities in his list, and at least
some of these feature on various Persian astrolabes
from the mid-seventeenth century, that is, some 50 year
before he compiled his treatise. In fact ˓Abd al Rah.īm
simply copied a table compiled in Kish near Samarqand
in the first half of the fifteenth century. This was,
in fact, the actual source of the geographical data on
the three world maps. Since 1999, when the first
two maps were published, Jan Hogendijk has found two
sources, one from tenth-century Baghdad and the other
from eleventh-century Isfahan, in which a solution to
the qibla problem using conic sections is discussed.
On the maps the circular arcs for the latitudes are
excellent approximations to segments of ellipses. Now
that we know what to look for, it is not too much to
hope that a reference to a map grid based on this
solution to the qibla problem might be found in some
other early source.
Although the origin and development of these
Mecca-centered world maps is still obscure, it is clear
that they are entirely Islamic in their conception. Indeed
they represent the culmination of Islamic mathematical
cartography, and have no parallel in sophistication
between Antiquity (the world map of Ptolemy, ca. 125)
and European cartography of the seventeenth century.
Prior to their rediscovery it was thought that the first

Maps and Mapmaking: Islamic World Maps Centered on Mecca. Fig. 2 The world map proposed by Carl Schoy ca. 1920
for preserving direction and distance to Mecca. There are major cartographic distortions for regions on the other side of the
world. On the Isfahan world map, even though it was made ca. 1700, we are dealing essentially with the world as known to
Ptolemy. (From Carl Schoy, Gnomonik der Araber. Berlin and Leipzig: Walter de Gruyter, 1923, between pp. 44 and 45.)

person to construct a world map centered on Mecca
from which one could read off the qibla and distance to
Mecca was the German historian of Islamic science
Carl Schoy, who published such a map ca. 1920.
See also: ▶Qibla, ▶Ulugh Beg, ▶Zīj, ▶Astrolabe,
▶Nas.īr al-Dīn al-T.usī, ▶Astronomy in the Islamic
World, ▶Religion and Science in Islam I
References
King, David A. World-Maps for Finding the Direction and
Distance to Mecca. Innovation and Tradition in Islamic
Science. Leiden: Brill, 1999. (Detailed analysis of the first
two maps.)
---. Synchrony with the Heavens: Studies in Astronomical
Timekeeping and Instrumentation in Medieval Islamic
Civilization. Vol. 1: The Call of the Muezzin (Studies
I–IX). Leiden: Brill, 2004; Vol. 2: Instruments of Mass
Calculation (Studies X–XVIII). Leiden: Brill, 2005,
especially VIIc. (On the third map and the newly-
discovered treatises.)
Maps and Mapmaking in Japan
K AZUTAKA U NNO
The first record of Japanese mapmaking is an Imperial
edict in AD 646 included in the Nihon Shoki
(Chronicles of Japan), 720, ordering that each province
reports its territorial range to the central government by
means of a map. However, no fragment of such a map
is extant now. The earliest extant maps relate to land
ownership and date from the eighth century. These
maps are almost all preserved in the Shōsōin, Nara, and
consist of a map of Tōdai-ji temple precincts, 756, and
over 20 maps of paddy fields. On these maps we can
observe the traditional Chinese grid system. The
majority of them are drawn on hemp.
The extant early general maps of Japan include: one
dated the 12th month, the third year of the Imperial era
known as Kagen (1305/06), now owned by the Ninna-ji
temple, Kyoto; Dai-Nihonkoku Zu (Map of Great
Japan) in the 1548 codex of an encyclopedia,
Shūgaishō (Collection of Oddments); and Nansem-
bushū Dai-Nihonkoku Shōtō Zu (Orthodox Map of
Great Japan in Jambudvīpa) drawn in the mid-sixteenth
century (Tōshōdai-ji temple, Nara). These maps show
the coastline and the boundary lines between provinces
by means of smooth curves, and have the common
characteristic of showing the main routes from the
province of Yamashiro, where the capital Kyoto
Maps and mapmaking in Japan 1309
had been located since 794, through almost all the
provinces. Maps with such characteristics are called
“Gyōki-type” maps, because they have an inscription
indicating that the author was Gyōki (668–749), a
revered Buddhist priest. But no one believes today that
they were actually the work of Gyōki, for the capital in
his time was not Kyoto but Nara, Yamato Province.
Later, in the ritual of Tsuina (which had been instituted
on Gyōki’s advice in 706 in order to offer prayers for
national peace and the health of the people), a map of
Japan came to be used to provide a concrete image of
the country. It may be imagined that by association
maps so used came to be called by his name.
The earliest extant map of the world is the Go-
Tenjiku Zu (Map of the Five Indies), drawn by Jūkai, a
Buddhist priest, in 1364, and now owned by the Hōryū-
ji temple in Nara. The actually existing Buddhist
continent called Jambudvīpa is drawn; India occupies a
great part of the continent, and China, Persia, Japan,
and many countries of Central Asia are shown. There
are ten other extant maps which are copies made in
later periods, and which belong to the same group.
Incidentally, the above-mentioned Shūgaishō also
contains a rough map of Jambudvīpa entitled Tenjiku
Zu (Map of India).
European cartographical works were introduced to
Japan in the late sixteenth century, and the coastlines of
the Gyōki-type maps came to be drawn in detail,
especially in the area of Kyūshū. This revision seems to
M
have been done by the European pilots and by the
Portuguese Ignacio Moreira, who resided in Japan
between 1590 and 1592.
Exact maps of provinces were needed for state
administration. But there are no known records about
the compilation of national maps after the year 646
mentioned above (except for government orders of 738
and 796) until 1591, when the Toyotomi government
embarked on such a project. The extant maps of two
counties in Echigo Province are rare examples of the
results of this project. The Tokugawa Shogunate, which
succeeded the Toyotomi government and held its
hegemony for two and a half centuries until 1867,
gave orders for cartographical records of all provinces
on five occasions during its reign.
These orders were issued in the tenth year of the
Imperial era of Keichō (1605); about the tenth year of
Kan’ei (ca. 1633); the 12th month of the first year
of Shōhō (1645); the tenth year of Genroku (1697);
and the sixth year of Tempō (1835). No detailed
records remain as regards the first and second projects.
After the third project, prescriptions aiming at some
regularization of form were issued, for example, the
scale was fixed at six sun to one ri (1:21,600). For
the third project, the Shogunate also required the
province to submit the plans of cities where the clan
offices were located. These maps and plans are huge
1310 Maps and mapmaking in Korea
and beautifully colored. All of the maps of the fifth
project, and some earlier ones, are still extant in the
National Archives in Tokyo.
General maps of Japan based on the provincial maps
were compiled on each occasion except the fifth
project. The earliest extant official map of Japan is
the so-called Keichō map of Japan, compiled in the
mid-seventeenth century and now in the National Diet
Library, Tokyo. On this map the eastern half of Honshū
is completely curved to the north, and depicted as
smaller than it actually is. The island of Shikoku, which
actually has projections in all four directions of the
compass, is drawn in a rectangular form.
The best of the official maps of Japan compiled
during the Edo era is the so-called Shōhō map of Japan,
based on the results of the third cartographical project,
and completed around 1670. Compiled by the famous
surveyor Hōjō Ujinaga, this map shows the shape of the
Japanese archipelago which is very close to actuality.
These maps strongly influenced private works of
cartography. Nihon Bunkei Zu (Map of Japan Divided
into Parts), published in 1666, and the series of works
by the painter Ishikawa Ryūsen beginning in 1687,
were based on the Keichō map of Japan; the former was
the first printed atlas of Japan. Seki Sokō’s Nihon Bun’
iki Shishō Zu (Easily Understandable Atlas of the
Regions of Japan), 1698, and Nagakubo Sekisui’s
works (first edition, 1779) were also based on this
“Shōhō map of Japan”.
In traditional cartography, little attention was paid to
the existence of spherical coordinates, but latitudes are
shown in the portolan charts of Japan (ca. 1670, Mitsui
Bunko Library, Tokyo; National Museum, Tokyo). The
first map of Japan made under the influence of these
charts and having a network of parallels and meridians
was Mori Kōan’s Nihon Bun’ya Zu (Astronomical Map
of Japan), 1754. In this map, however, parallels and
meridians were simply added to the already existing
official map. We also find such a network on
Nagakubo’s maps of Japan, but with only the degrees
of latitude. It is evident that they imitated Mori’s idea,
and moreover had a greater social influence, because
these latter maps were often printed, while Mori’s
remained only a manuscript.
The first map of Japan that was based on actual
observation of degrees of longitude and latitude was
completed by officials of the Shogunate astronomical
observatory in 1821. The surveying began in 1800 and
mainly concentrated on the coastlines, as the title Dai-
Nihon Enkai Yochi Zenzu (Maps of the Coastlines of
Great Japan) shows. The supervisor of the surveying
throughout was the astronomer Inō Tadataka, and all
the maps thus made in this project are called “Inō’s
maps”. The 1821 maps consisted of 214 sheets on a
scale of 1:36,000, eight sheets of 1:216,000, and three
sheets of 1:432,000.
The making of topographical maps by triangulation
began in 1781, and in 1944 the entire country was
depicted on maps with a scale of 1:50,000. Western
style charts began to be systematically executed by the
navy in 1871.
See also: ▶Ino Tadataka
References
Cortazzi, Hugh, Isles of Gold: Antique Maps of Japan. New
York: Wealherhill, 1983.
Namba, Matsutaro, Nobuo Muroga, Kazutaka and Unno. Old
Maps in Japan. Osaka: Sōgensha, 1973.
Oda, Takeo, Nobuo Muroga, Kazutaka and Unno. Nihon
Kochizu Taisei Sekaizu Hen (The World in Japanese Maps
until the Mid-Nineteenth Century). Tokyo: Kōdansha,
(in Japanese).1975
Unno, Kazutaka. Japanese Cartography. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 2. Cartography in the
Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies. Ed. David
Woodward. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.
346–477, pls. 22–9.
Unno, Kazutaka, Oda Takeo, Nobuo and Muroga. Nihon
Kochizu Taiseī (Monumenta Cartographca Japonica).
Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1972 (in Japanese).
Maps and Mapmaking in Korea
G ARI L EDYARD
Korea has a long history, but evidence of mapmaking
comes only from about the fifth century AD, when a
nobleman’s survivors painted a map of Liaodong city
(now in Liaoning Province, China, but then within the
borders of the Korean Koguryŏ kingdom (37 BCE–
668)) on a wall of his tomb. Since the tomb is in
northern Korea, the map probably was meant to
comfort him with an image of his far-off hometown.
Koguryŏ’s southern neighbors, the kingdoms of
Paekche (18 BCE–663) and Silla (57 BCE–935) are
known through written historical sources to have used
maps in local administration, but no examples have
survived. The same is true for the long Koryŏ dynasty
(918–1392). The people of Koryŏ times had a sure
sense of the peninsular outline of their country and are
said to have commemorated it in the shape of the
kingdom’s standard silver bullion unit. Outlines of
Korea also appear on a few Chinese maps of the twelfth
century. Toward the end of the dynasty an enterprising
scholar composed an elaborate map of the world –
probably just the China–Korea region – and this work
was probably connected in spirit to the Kangnido of
1402, which, in a copy of about 1470, is the oldest
Korean-made map to survive.

The Artifactual Record
The succeeding Chosŏn dynasty built a much stronger
and more durable state than had previously been known
in the Korean peninsula. A vast amount of mapping
was carried out in the fifteenth century, but aside from
some prominent exceptions there is little remaining
trace of this early production. Most surviving Korean
maps are of the seventeenth century or later, and are
most commonly found in albums, often hand-drawn
but occasionally including wood-block prints. Larger
maps are usually found preserved in silk or paper
scrolls or on screens. A large sample of this material is
now available in published color illustrations.
From the seventh century on, Korean kings presided
over a strongly centralized, bureaucratic state. Provin-
cial governors and district magistrates were responsible
for producing maps of their areas in response to requests
from central authorities for geographical, demographic,
and fiscal information. Thus the central government
maintained and frequently updated a broad range of data
from which provincial and national maps could be
compiled. The most complete such compilation to
survive in its entirety is the Sinjŭng Tongguk yŏji
sŭngnam (Complete Conspectus of Korean Territory,
newly expanded; called the Sŭngnam for short) of 1531,
descended from earlier editions going back to 1481.
Beginning in the late fifteenth century, the government
generally limited publication and dissemination of maps
for national security reasons, and the maps that were
available, such as those in the Sŭngnam, were rather spare
in detail. But security concerns also spawned the defense
map (kwanbangdo) genre, which was rich in information
relating to logistics and communciation.
Geomancy
In the late ninth century, Koreans began to articulate
a national geomantic structure for their country. In
its elementary form, geomancy ( p’ungsu, Chinese
fengshui) is an originally Chinese science employed in
siting graves, human habitations, temples and shrines,
and towns and cities. The landscape is the locus of
forces which deliver energy and power through
networks of montane “arteries” (maek) or riparian
“veins” ( p’a), which will be determined to be either
favorable or unfavorable for the use envisaged for a
particular site. Even today, specialists in this kind of
knowledge can be found in most Korean communities,
and indeed all over East Asia. But Korea is unique in
developing this science into a nationwide framework
for understanding and defining the physical aspects of
the nation itself. From an early date the source of
Korea’s geomantic forces was seen to be located in
Mount Paektu (2,744 m), which through Korea’s
mountain ranges and water sheds distributed vital
forces to the entire country. It was thus of crucial
Maps and mapmaking in Korea 1311
importance to determine and map the mountain ranges
of the land, so that the relationship of any particular
spot to the overall network of “shapes and forces”
(hyŏngse) could be clearly understood. Whether on the
national or local level, a shapes-and-forces map
(hyŏngsedo) would clearly configure the mountain
ranges and water sheds, so that the physical lay of the
land was easily perceived.
In the seventeenth century, following the Japanese
(1592–1598) and Manchu invasions (1627, 1637),
Korea went through a series of reforms which resulted
in enhanced revenues and a more developed military.
This was accompanied by economic growth and
increased trade with China and Japan. In society at
large these changes produced greater occupational
diversity, a certain degree of social mobility, and a
broader access to education. An intellectual movement
in pursuit of “practical studies” (sirhak) extended
scholarship into new areas of science and statecraft
research. Thus it is not surprising that we see a
development which might be called the privatization of
cartography, leading to works by individual map-
makers that steadily grew in quality and diversity. Maps
were no longer restricted to government offices but
were much more broadly distributed throughout
society. This resulted in a higher rate of preservation
of maps into modern times.
In tracking this greater patronage we can notice
two different kinds of map collections: administrative,
M
and popular atlases. The administrative atlas typically
would consist of a set of maps of Korea’s eight
provinces. Each provincial map would show the
districts of the province, often with a shapes-and-forces
accent that clarified the geographical character of the
area. It would indicate principal roads and bridges, post
stations and military bases, temples and schools, and
other sites of official or civic importance. Distances
between towns would be indicated either by notations
on the map or in a table in the atlas. Accompanying
essays would give a general historical and administra-
tive overview of the province, and lists would be
provided showing the rank of each magistracy, with
statistics on its tax revenues, military reserves, and
various other categories.
The popular atlas often had a similar organization,
but it was distinguished by the addition of a general
map of the world, or ch’ŏnhado (map of “all-under-
heaven”), a general map of China, sketchier maps of
Japan and the Ryukyu kingdom, and a map of Korea as
a whole.
Korean Knowledge of Western Cartography
Jesuit missionaries, led by Matteo Ricci, began to
introduce western maps of the world to China in the last
years of the sixteenth century, and copies of printed
1312 Maps and mapmaking in Korea
editions of Ricci’s world maps of 1602 and 1603 each
reached Korea within a year of their publication. In
1708, a royal order was given to copy a variant version
of the Ricci map, and this occasioned a Korean essay
on Western cartography. Western maps continued to
be imported throughout the eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries. A Jesuit-directed summation of
mathematics and astronomy published in Chinese in
1723 updated Korean understanding of geographic
latitude and explained methods of calculating longitude
through the observation of eclipses, and Jesuit
determinations of latitude and longitude for major
Chinese centers and even for Seoul itself were found in
the same source.
In spite of this more than passing exposure to western
maps and mapmaking, one can find no visual trace of
western influence on Korean maps themselves. An
apparently Anglo-Chinese map from the 1790s was even
printed by woodblock in Korea, in 1834, by the greatest
Korean cartographer of all, Kim Chǒngho, yet Kim’s own
maps stay completely within the Korean tradition. On the
other hand, there is abundant evidence that by the
eighteenth century, Koreans were systematically compil-
ing latitude and longitude data for their country, and
Maps and Mapmaking in Korea. Fig. 1 Honil kangni yŏktae kukto chi to (Map of Integrated Lands and Regions and
Historical Countries and Capitals). By permission of the Ryukoku University Library, Kyoto, Japan.
although no indication of it is found on any Korean map
of Korea, a kind of geodetic measurement did play a role
in the accuracy of the data used to make the maps.
The Kangnido
The first rulers of the Chosǒn dynasty sponsored a
number of projects designed to strengthen their legiti-
macy. Among these were a recarving on stone of a
seventh century Korean star map and a terrestial map of
the world. The star map reflected a very ancient Chinese
astrographical tradition long superseded in both China
and Korea, but the terrestial map, the Honil kangni
yŏktae kukto chi to (Map of Integrated Lands and
Regions and Historical Countries and Capitals) was
based on two fourteenth-century Chinese maps. In 1402,
Kwŏn Kŭn (1352–1409), a Confucian scholar and royal
advisor, was ordered to supervise the compilation of a
world map based on these two sources. The actual
drawing was the work of Yi Hoe. To his images of China
and the greater world, Kwǒn and Yi added Yi’s own map
of Korea and a recently imported image of Japan, thus, in
their understanding, bringing the map to completion
(Fig. 1).

While this original Kangnido was lost long ago, a
Korean copy made around 1470 and seized by Japanese
invaders in the 1590s has survived in Japan. This copy
contains Kwŏn Kŭn’s original preface, which details
the source materials.
At first glance, the Kangnido seems a collection of
distortions. China and India make up a dominating,
undivided mass in the center, while Europe and Africa
hang from the western side and Korea hangs from the
eastern as if these two masses were geographically
equal. An upended Japan floats uncertainly in the East
China Sea. The Kangnido was a conflation of other
maps, with considerable relative distortion of the land
masses, rather than cartography in the strict sense. As
the first East Asian map to include Europe and Africa,
and such features as the Mediterranean and Black Seas,
the Arabian peninsula and the Persian Gulf, the Nile
and the Red Sea, as well as to add Korea and Japan on
the east, the Kangnido is an epochal achievement in
Korean as well as world mapmaking.
Popular Cosmography: The Ch’ŏnhado
The Kangnido was in Korea too exotic to pass
unrevised into the mainstream of Korean mapmaking.
The unpronounceable names, in many cases Arabic
originals filtered through Chinese transcriptions; the
unimaginable distances; strange countries of which in
many cases nothing was known – very little of this
related to the concept of the world known in Korea.
This world was essentially of Chinese definition. It was
the tianxia (ch’ŏnha in Korean pronunciation) or “all
under Heaven” that was at peace during the reigns of
sage emperors, or that fell into disorder during the rule
of bad ones. The geography of this world could be
known through the Chinese classics and through the
geographical sections and accounts of foreign countries
in the long chain of Chinese dynastic histories that
began to be compiled in the first century BCE. In
addition there was the more fantastic and whimsical
geography recorded in the Shanhai jing (Classic of
Mountains and Seas), the older parts of which date
from around the second century BCE but which evoke
even more ancient myths and traditions. This source
added to the classical geography such imagined places
as the “Land of the One-armed,” the “Country of
Women,” “Mount Incomplete,” and many more. This
mix of ancient historical places and imagined fantastic
ones constituted the world that was mapped in the
ch’ŏnhado (world maps) (Fig. 2).
Although based almost completely on Chinese
source material, the numerous examples of ch’ŏnhado
constitute a completely Korean genre of map. An inner
continent dominated by China, with the Korean
peninsula always clearly depending from the eastern
side, is surrounded by a sea full of kingdoms, which
Maps and mapmaking in Korea 1313
itself is surrounded by a circular land strip with even
more amazing places. The eastern and western sides of
this ring feature trees near which the sun rises and sets.
The origins of the ch’ŏnhado genre are unclear. A
number of scholars have believed that these maps were
Buddhist in origin, and some have thought that the
basic shape of the map could have been derived from
geographic theories popularized by the Chinese
naturalist philosopher Zou Yan (fl. third century
BCE). While morphologically plausible, it is impossi-
ble to find any cartographic link over the nearly two
millennia that separate Zou Yan from the emergence of
the ch’ŏnhado in the sixteenth century.
I believe that the core of the ch’ŏnhado – its inner
continent – evolved from the Kangnido. In addition to
many geographical and morphological considerations,
the Tenri Kangnido is also chronologically congenial to
this theory, since it contains place names that fix its
copying no earlier than 1568, making a plausible bridge
to the sixteenth century ch’ŏnhado.
Korean National Maps
Under King Sejong (r. 1418–1450), the Korean court
pursued a wide range of technical and scientific
projects in astronomy, calendrical science, horology,
musicology, pharmacology, agronomy, and geography
and cartography. Distances between Seoul and the
seat of each district, and between the districts them-
M
selves, were carefully measured and recorded. Polar
altitude observations determined the latitude of the
capital and of the extreme northern and southern
frontiers, permitting an accurate estimate of the length
of the country. Sejong also gave serious attention to
the montane structure of the nation, collecting and
studying data on the nation’s mountain “arteries” and
river “veins.” King Sejo (r. 1455–1468), Sejong’s
son and follower, ordered the complete mapping of
the country, including not only a national map but maps
of each of Korea’s eight provinces and approximately
330 counties.
The national map that resulted from this preparation
was the Tongguk chido (Map of the Eastern Country),
which was presented to King Sejo in 1463 by his two
chief cartographers, Chŏng Ch’ŏk (1390–1475) and
Yang Sŏngji (1415–1482), but is thought to be
principally the work of the former. The general outlines
of the peninsula’s coastline are astonishingly sugges-
tive of those on modern maps, while the shapes-
and-forces treatment detailing the nation’s mountain
network and watersheds provides a rich appreciation of
its physical geography. Every district of the kingdom is
indicated, along with its distance from Seoul and its
provincial affiliation. Equally distinctive is the map’s
chief flaw, an unduly flattened northern frontier. Early
Korean mapmakers appear to have had considerable
1314 Maps and mapmaking in Korea
Maps and Mapmaking in Korea. Fig. 2 Ch’ŏnhado (Map of the World). By permission of the National Central Library,
Seoul.
difficulty in grasping the outline of the northern
frontier, which was defined by the Amnok and Tuman
(internationally, Yalu and Tumen) rivers that respec-
tively flowed off the western and eastern slopes of
Mount Paektu. It was not until the eighteenth century
that this problem was essentially solved. So for about
three centuries the conventional shape of the country
was associated with Chŏng Ch’ŏk’s outline, and
cartographers now refer to such maps as in the Chŏng
Ch’ŏk style.
The great summation of the administrative geogra-
phy promoted by the fifteenth century Korean courts
was the Sinjŭng Tongguk yŏji Sŭngnam (Complete
Conspectus of Korean Territory, newly expanded),
which was first drafted in 1481, and went through
several revisions before the final one of 1531. Called
the Sŭngnam for short, this work detailed the adminis-
trative history of Korea’s provinces and districts. It
connected each district to its earliest known organiza-
tion in earlier dynasties; clarified its rank and position
in the administrative and military chains of regional
governance; listed its schools, monasteries, Confucian
shrines, post stations, signal-fire stations, natural and
economic resources, famous native sons and virtuous
women; and concluded with a sampling of literature
associated with its history and public and private
institutions. The final edition of the Sŭngnam was
so thorough and so well done that it was never
supplemented or re-edited.
We know that the cartographer Yang Sŏngji, whose
work over the years for Kings Sejo and Sŏngjong
(1469–1494) had laid the foundation for the Sŭngnam,
was well known for his strict views on defense and
national security. He argued that maps should not cir-
culate outside of a few designated government offices.
These views may have been a factor in the spareness of
detail on the Sŭngnam maps that appeared later in
Sŏngjong’s reign. Another important change on the
Sŭngnam maps concerned the shapes-and-forces treat-
ment. Even the Kangnido’s representation of Korea had
displayed the principal mountain ranges of the king-
dom. But on the Sŭngnam maps, shapes-and-forces

indications completely disappeared. The reasons for
this change are not clear.
During the first half of the eighteenth century there
were new developments in the mathematical and
observational sciences which had a strong impact on
the maps of the later Chosŏn period. Much of this was
connected with western knowledge, which had begun
to flow steadily into Korea from Jesuit sources in
China. Jesuit participation in the national mapping
project of the Kangxi Emperor (1661–1722), which
took place from 1709 to 1716, brought Jesuit carto-
graphers who were mapping Manchuria to Korea’s
borders, and in 1713, Jesuit-trained Manchu and Chinese
specialists made surveys and observations within Korea
itself. The concepts of latitude and longitude, and
related observational and mensurational techniques,
were clearly described in Sino-Jesuit manuals which
were introduced into Korea at least by 1715. A dra-
matic improvement in spatial representation is found on
Korean maps that were developed during the following
30 or 40 years.
The man responsible for this cartographic revolution
was Chŏng Sanggi (1678–1752), a brilliant scholar
who labored for decades in the privacy of his home. He
developed what he called the “hundred-li foot”
(paengni ch’ ŏk), a 100-li visual scale bar (metaphori-
cally a “foot,” I will call his unit a “scale-foot”)
calibrated in 10-li (4.3 km) intervals, which he inserted
just after his introduction to his maps. Chinese books of
that period specified a ratio of 200 li to one terrestial
degree of latitude or longitude. This ratio was cited and
used by late-eighteenth century Korean mapmakers
(although the Korean li was considerably shorter than
the Chinese), and calculations based on their maps
show that they probably followed such a formula to
determine geodetic distance. Perhaps Ch’ong Sanggi
had used the same procedure.
Shapes-and-forces cartography made a strong return
on Chŏng Sanggi’s maps, and the vernacular painting
style of the day depicted the mountain ranges in an
attractive manner that created both cartographic clarity
and an aesthetic dimension. A variety of symbols
marked military bases, post stations, and other facilities
Some copies of Chŏng’s map’s are works of art as well
as cartographic masterpieces. His sons and grandsons
continued to be active in cartography throughout the
eighteenth century.
The Maps and Writings of Kim Chŏngho
In 1791, the Korean government sponsored the crea-
tion of a national grid for the purpose of complete
cartographic standardization. While details of this
project are uncertain, several albums of local maps
copied on standardized sŏnp’yo (line guides) survive.
Evidently the grid coordinates of each district seat were
Maps and mapmaking in Korea 1315
determined with reference to copies of Chŏng Sanggi
maps owned by the government, and then marked on
uniform line guides which were sent to district magis-
trates for development into standard district maps. The
detail of these is astonishing. Every river and stream,
every principal road and bridge, every public facility
and many private ones such as schools, monasteries,
and shrines, are indicated.
In 1834, an obscure cartographic genius named Kim
Chŏngho (fl. 1834–1864) developed one of these
national collections of district maps into a uniform
national album, in which he re-edited hundreds of local
maps into standard rectangular sheets. This national
grid map was called the Ch’ŏnggudo, or Map of the
Blue Hills, after an ancient poetic sobriquet for Korea.
Kim Chŏngho was himself a professional wood-
block carver. It is not known whether he became one in
order to market his maps, or began as a blockcarver and
branched out into mapmaking. But it is as a blockcarver
that he first comes to notice, in 1834, preparing for a
famous scholar, Ch’oe Han’gi (1803–1875), a wood-
block of a Chinese copy of an English hemispheric map
of the world. Ch’oe obligingly returned the favor,
writing an enthusiastic preface for the Ch’ŏnggudo. But
this contact represents the only instance when the
Korean world is known to have given any documentary
notice to Kim’s activities. This is in spite of the fact that
in 1861, Kim would produce an even more remarkable
national grid map that would bring him enduring fame.
M
He must have been of very humble social status. We
have no indication of his ancestry or native place.
Traditions speak of endless trips throughout the country
to check details and redo existing maps, and of a
faithful daughter who took care of him and helped with
the blockcarving. The traditional story holds that he
was arrested in 1864, supposedly for endangering
national security by revealing the nation’s geography to
potential enemies. But scholars doubt this, reasoning
that such a grave incident would surely be reflected
in official records, and noting that too many copies
of the 1861 map (and of an 1864 recut edition)
survive to permit belief that such a thing could have
occurred. The 1860s were a time of great tension, with
foreign incursions and a large-scale persecution of
the country’s Catholic community, which had been
growing since 1784 in spite of many purges and
constant suppression. Could Kim’s printing of a
foreign map of the world in 1834 have been taken against
him? Ch’oe Han’gi, the actual patron of that project, had
no problem with this, but then he was an upper-class
scholar of influence and repute. Kim had no such
insulation, and could have been the victim of petty
policemen far down in the official structure. Whatever the
reason, he disappeared in 1864 without a trace.
However humble Kim’s status may have been, his
writing shows that he was an accomplished scholar and
1316 Maps and mapmaking in Korea
a respectable writer of classical Chinese. From 1834 to
1861 his doings and whereabouts are completely
unknown. In 1861, under the pseudonym Kosanja
(The Master of Old Mountains), a second grid map
appeared entitled Taedong yŏjido (Terrestial Map of the
Great East (Korea)) Fig. 3. Kim’s short preface deals
mainly with the importance of maps for military affairs.
The Taedong yŏjido was a completely reconsidered
cartographic image of the country. The shapes-and-
forces treatment received here its greatest representation.
Mountain ranges were now represented by a solid black
line, thinner for lower ranges, thicker for higher ones, with
special jagged teeth on the line to represent particularly
rugged stretches, or white peaks to indicate snowy
heights. The clarity of the overall effect is impressive.
With the Taedong yŏjido, a complete union of carto-
graphic display and woodblock publishing technique was
achieved. Kim seems to have wished to present simply
the earth and its natural and human features, with the
cartographic structure left, so to speak, underground.
The complete printed Taedong yŏjido is likely to
have been very expensive. To make his vision of Korea
more cheaply available, Kim produced a single sheet
Maps and Mapmaking in Korea. Fig. 3 Taedong yŏjido (Terrestial Map of the Great East (Korea)). Courtesy of the East
Asian Library, University of California at Berkeley.
version which put the whole nation on a rectangle of
about 115 × 76 cm, giving it the title of Taedong yŏji
chŏndo (Complete Terrestial Map of the Great East
(Korea)). The short text that filled the Bay of Wonsan
gave the map something of the quality of a patriotic
morale poster. After introducing Mount Paektu as “the
grandfather of Korea’s mountain arteries,” giving the
dimensions of the seacoasts and northern rivers, and
proclaiming the greatness of the nation’s legendary
founders Tan’gun and Kija, he concluded with his
ringing climax: “’Tis a storehouse of Heaven, a golden
city! Truly, may it enjoy endless bliss for a hundred
million myriad generations! Oh, how great it is!”
The District Map
We have seen that in the late eighteenth century, the
Korean government had taken special measures to see
that all the districts of the country were uniformly
mapped. Although the purpose of this program was to
create a national standard, in fact local maps reflected
the distinctive features of the district. These highly

skilled, uniform maps of districts could not displace the
traditional local maps in popularity.
The traditional local map must properly be called a
map-painting. It was composed and executed by a
practiced painter rather than by a mapmaker, and it set
the community into the surrounding landscape in the
manner of a landscape painting. The village was seen
from a fixed orientation, most commonly with north at
the top, and usually in bird’s-eye view; roads, rivers,
and walls divided up the space in realistic proportions.
Distances were indicated by short notes inserted at a
focal point in the road. Houses were nestled together in
homey elevation, smoke rising from the chimney, a
chicken pecking at the ground by the wall. The village
well was in its proper place, but visited by ladies and
water-boys. The school house with its surrounding pines
was a miniature all by itself. In the distance, tucked
into the hills, were the familiar shrines and monasteries. In
Korean, as in the other East Asian languages, the word for
“picture” and “map” was the same, and traditional Korean
map-paintings exactly reflected that ambivalence.
City Maps
Seoul was the nation’s first city, and was the home of
virtually all of the nation’s prominent people. Those
who lived there seem to have been very fond of maps of
the city mounted on folding screens in one of the
principal rooms of the house. Although these maps
often showed the close urban detail of streets and
buildings, one does not get the feeling that those who
bought them did so in order to find their way around.
The city was large enough so that a bird’s-eye view
would be unable to reveal the order and scale of its
streets and alleys. Thus most maps of Seoul are executed
in aerial plan, although the surrounding mountains were
characteristically drawn in pictorial elevation.
P’yŏngyang is Korea’s oldest city. Once a capital of
the ancient kingdom of Koguryŏ, it was always an
important regional center in later dynastic days. As the
capital of P’yŏng’an Province on Korea’s northwestern
border facing China, it had great strategic and
commercial significance. Maps of the city are com-
monly encountered and must have always been a
popular souvenir. Although maps in aerial plan are
known, the favored orientation for its mappers was a
bird’s-eye view looking toward the city over the
Taedong River from the east. More than maps of Seoul,
those of P’yŏngyang took on many of the qualities of
the map-paintings of smaller towns.
Defense Maps
After the invasions of Korea by the Japanese in
1592–1598 and the Manchus in 1627 and 1637, Korean
statesmen adopted policies that put a high emphasis on
Maps and mapmaking in Korea 1317
defense and military preparedness. Thus for the years of
the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries, a great
variety of defense maps (kwanbangdo) were produced.
Most of them are unique and few were ever copied,
accounting for the fact that most of those surviving
today are original works. Some, such as the Yogye
kwanbang chido (Map of the Defenses of the Liaoji
Area) are vast panoramas that stretch from the
northeastern coast of Korea northward toward the Amur
River and westward to Beijing itself. Others show
particular sections of the northern frontier. There are
many having the character of charts that map Korea’s
coastal areas. There are detailed paintings of mountain
fortresses. One sees in these works a great variety of
styles, media, and painting skills. These maps, which in
their day were in the category of classified information,
are now prized for their unique approach to national and
international cartography, and in many instances also for
their highly stylized and artistic manner of execution.
Though one of East Asia’s smaller countries, and
always the object of Chinese cultural influences,
Korea has had a proud and distinguished tradition of
mapmaking all its own, and not a small number of
unique cartographic achievements. The Kangnido is
East Asia’s oldest surviving world map, and by world
standards at the time of its composition in 1402, one of
the best realizations of world geography known from
that time. The Ch’ŏnhado, though it reflects only
Chinese geographic views and source material, is a
M
map that China itself never produced. Chŏng Sanggi’s
maps of Korean provinces achieved a high standard of
cartographic excellence and artistic distinction. Kim
Chŏngho produced two great grid maps of Korea, and
achieved a standard of cartographic imagination and
excellence. Korea’s great corpus of maps, now in Yi
Ch’an’s magnificent album, are deserving of serious
attention and the further research efforts of the world’s
cartographic historians.
References
Bae, Woo-sung. Seogusik Segyejido-Ui Joseon-Jeok Hae-
seok, Cheonhado. Han’guk Kwahak-sa Hakhoe-ji. Journal
of the Korean History of Science Society 22.1 (2000):
51–79. Abstract/In Korean. Considers the cheonhado,
circular world map, used in traditional Korea. Discusses
views of the origin of the map, seen by some scholars as
either Taoist or Buddhist. Argues that the cheonhado was
the result of Korean scholars’ efforts to interpret European
maps in an ancient oriental framework.
Ledyard, Gari. Cartography in Korea. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 2. Cartography in the
Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies. Ed. J. B.
Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1994. 235–45.
Lee, Chan (Yi Ch’an). Han’guk ŭi ko chido (Old Maps of
Korea). Seoul: Pŏm’u Publishers, 1991.
1318 Maps and mapmaking: Marshall Island stick charts

less detailed swell information. Sometimes shells are

Maps and Mapmaking: Marshall used to designate islands. There are some indications
Island Stick Charts that the rebbelith type may have developed after
Marshallese sailors learned about European nautical
charts (Fig. 3).
W ILLIAM H. D AVENPORT A partial interpretation of the schematic diagram
shown here (Fig. 1), taken from an actual mattang, will
The so-called stick charts of the Marshall Islands in the illustrate most of the wave phenomena used by
Pacific Ocean are a rare instance in which a kind of Marshallese navigators. The center intersection of the
cartography was developed in a nonliterate culture. chart (M) represents any island; at the right the vertical
Their designation comes from the fact that they are line R/1–R/2 represents the cardinal direction (rear) and
constructed of slender sticks and twigs, and sticks dominant east-to-west swell (rilib). As rilib encounters
lashed together into complex patterns. These patterns island M it is refracted, the upper (northern) refracted
represent what occurs when mature ocean swells sweep arm (RK) is called rolok, the lower (southern) refrac-
past one or more of the coral atolls that make up the ted arm (NK) is termed nit in kot. Opposing rilib
Marshall Island chain. The charts are not carried to sea, is a weaker west-to-east swell called kaelib, both
but are used as illustrative devices to train young men refracted arms of which are termed jur in okme (JO).
in the skills of piloting canoes through the archipelago, Two other, usually weak, swell systems, one from the
out of site of land, by noting various swell phenomena. north called bundokerik (BK), and its opposed system,
The basic concepts that are illustrated on the charts called bundokeing (BG) are also indicated as they are
are refraction and reflection of ocean swells. When refracted by island M.
well-defined swells approach a shore they are bent At sea where the rolok (RK) or nit in kot (NK) arms
according to the angle the swell line encounters when intersect at a certain angle with jur in okme (JO) as well
it reaches shallow water and the shore. This occurs as at other similar intersections of reflected and
because the portion of a swell slows down as it encounters refracted swells their combined energies cause the
shallow water, while the offshore, deep water part water surface to peak up in a characteristic way and
continues unaffected. This is wave refraction (Fig. 2). briefly break, producing a distinctive kind of white cap.
Refraction occurs as long as a swell is in contact with This visible sign is called a bot (node). The narrow
shallow water and with a small roughly circular atoll sector of sea in which bot are visible is termed the okar
this may be entirely around it. As a result, the surface (root), because it leads to a tree, i.e., to land where trees
waters off the protected side of the island will be grow. In the diagram, the line 1–M–2 represents the
confused by the intersections of opposed arms of
the refracted swells. Further off the protected shore
the swells reform as they continue on their course.
Wave energy is also reflected from a shore line
which sends a smaller reflected wave back at a com-
plementary angle, just as light striking a reflective
surface or a ball striking a hard surface bounce back.
The Marshallese stick charts represent these phe-
nomena: one or several lines of ocean swells approach-
ing an island, their refracted and reflected swells, and the
interactions of these with each other. The stick patterns
on a chart can be quite intricate when more than one
island and more than one swell system is depicted. In
such cases a cardinal direction (rear) is indicated, which
is the one generated by the north Pacific tradewind
system, rilib (backbone), that strikes the Marshall
Islands from a northeasterly or easterly direction.
There are three kinds of charts: the mattang which
illustrates the general principles of swell refraction and
the intersection of swell lines; the meddo (sea) which
depicts the relative positions of more than one island,
wave data, and sometimes other pertinent hydrographic
information; and the rebbelith which is like the meddo Maps and Mapmaking: Marshall Island Stick Charts.
but includes many islands or most of the group, and has Fig. 1 Schematic diagram of a mattang chart.
 Maps and mapmaking: Marshall Island stick charts 1319

Maps and Mapmaking: Marshall Island Stick Charts. Fig. 2 a, Wave reflection and refraction around an atoll. b, Wave
refraction around an atoll. c, Meddo chart, collected by Robert Louis Stevenson. From the University of Pennsylvania Museum
of Archaeology and Anthropology (negative number S8-140153). Used with their permission. d, Key to the Robert Louis
Stevenson chart.

northern and southern okar of the rilib and kaelib swell
systems. In following the okar, the navigator notes the
change in angle of the intersecting swells, if the angle
increases (because the refraction is greater) he is getting
closer to land, and the converse. Usually, however,
dead reckoning has been good enough for the navigator
to know which side of an island he is on.
It is well to keep in mind that a coral atoll is a very
low-lying island, and from a distance the trees growing
on it are its most conspicuous feature. Even so, from a
canoe, atolls are not visible for more than a few miles
away. Actually, there are other useful signs that indicate
an atoll over the horizon. Among them are flight
directions and patterns of certain birds, high accumula-
tions of overhanging clouds, colored reflections from
lagoons on the undersides of cumulus clouds, and
floating vegetation, and navigator’s rely heavily upon
them. However, at night and in situations of poor
visibility the information derived from swells can be
critical. The Marshallese navigator does not use the
information from swells only for making direct land-
falls. Rather, on a voyage which passes in the vicin-
ities of intervening islands he can mark his progress
toward his destination by noting the reflected and
refracted wave signatures of unseen islands as he
passes by them.
1320 Maps and mapmaking in Mesoamerica
Maps and Mapmaking: Marshall Island Stick Charts.
Fig. 3 Stick chart from a Marshall Islands mattang chart.
From the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology
and Anthropology (negative number S8-79948). Used with
their permission.
See also: ▶Navigation in the Pacific, ▶Navigation in
Polynesia
References
Davenport, William H. Marshall Islands Navigational Charts.
Imago Mundi 20 (1960): 28–36.
Maps and Mapmaking
in Mesoamerica
B ARBARA E. M UNDY
When Spanish conquistadores first set foot in Mexico
in the early sixteenth century, they found that many of
the indigenous peoples they encountered made maps –
graphic records of space. Since Mesoamericans had no
previous contact with civilizations outside the New
World, their mapping traditions developed indepen-
dently and thus were distinct from those of Europe
and Asia. Maps from central Mexico depended upon
pictographic writing to convey place names and
geographic information, and they were often drawn
on native paper or cloth. Frequently, territorial maps
would include historical narratives, also written with
pictographic symbols. With the Spanish Conquest, the
isolation of Mesoamerican mapping came to an end as
it came under the sway of European forms and style.
However, native peoples have continued using and
making maps that are indebted to the native tradition.
Because preconquest Mesoamerican maps were fre-
quently perishable, few such territorial maps survive
today. Scholars therefore depend upon eyewitness
Spanish accounts of native mapping in the decades after
the Conquest as well as “pre-Hispanic-style” maps –
those made in the decades after the Spanish Conquest that
show little European influence – to reconstruct Mesoa-
merican mapping in the century or so before the
Conquest. Unfortunately, the maps and mapping of
earlier Mesoamerican civilizations – the Olmec, the
Classic Zapotec, and the Classic Maya – are lost to time.
Nahua, or Aztec, maps are best known because
Nahuatl speakers dominated central Mexico at the
time of the Conquest. Nahuas also had the greatest
degree of interaction with colonizing Spaniards. Many
pre-Hispanic-style maps from the Nahua heartland in
the Valley of Mexico (the site of the present-day
Mexico City) survive. These maps had practical uses
within Nahua society. For individuals, Nahua map-
makers carefully measured house lots, orchards, and
gardens to make large-scale maps that documented
their property. For neighborhoods, they drew up maps
so that ward leaders could apportion lands and collect
tribute. For towns, they created cadastral records that
included individual maps of each family’s plot. Not all
Nahua maps showed such familiar territory: Nahua
military spies mapped the layouts of foreign cities to
help army commanders in planning their battles of
conquest.
In the densely settled Valley of Mexico, scale-model
maps were of some importance. Here, precise ways of
measuring plots of land using ropes and measuring
sticks were in evidence in the years after the Conquest.
Two basic units of measurement coexisted in the
Valley: the quahuitl, measuring about 2.5 m, and the
cemmatl (which ranged from 2.5 to 1.77 m). Lines,
representing one linear unit, and dots, representing 20,
were used as counters. Fractions of the basic units
could be shown with glyphs representing arrows
(cemmitl), hearts (cenyollotli), bones (omitl), or hands
(cemmatl). In some maps, area is also calculated and
recorded in square quahuitl. Such measured precision
in maps and specialization among maps may have been
unique to the urbanized and hierarchical Nahua.
The Nahua were, however, very much like other
Mesoamericans in making community maps, which
were perhaps the most ubiquitous maps in the pre-
Hispanic world. They are sometimes called lienzos,
after the Spanish word for “linen,” since many are
painted upon cloth. These maps often showed the

boundaries or extent of territory of a native city–state
that the Nahua called an altepetl. To make community
maps, mapmakers used pictographs arranged on a
paper or cloth sheet to mimic the distribution of places
and geographic features in space. Mapmakers did not
carry out specific measurements of the contours of
the landscape, but rather used symbols standing for
the names of both places and physical landmarks,
placing them relative to each other on the sheet.
Thus community maps depended upon a mapmaker’s
knowledge of names – rather than absolute geogra-
phy – to define the landscape. These community maps
aimed not only to map territory, but also to record
history. Given the primacy of the oral tradition in
Mesoamerica, the maps may have functioned as
mnemonic devices, designed to accompany the histor-
ian’s account. The map’s historical narrative, written in
pictures and in pictographs upon the surface of the map,
would often tell of a community’s travels to reach its
present territory. It might also show the battles a
community fought and alliances it struck in order to
cement its rights to lands. The Codex Xolotl of ca. AD
1540 is perhaps the earliest of such map histories
known from the Valley of Mexico; the Mapas de
Cuauhtinchan nos. 1–4 are notable map histories made
outside of the Valley near the important pre-Hispanic
center of Cholula.
The mapping by the Mixtec, who live in the modern
state of Oaxaca, centered on community maps similar
to those made by the Nahua, their northern neighbors.
Since Mixtec communities tended to be small and
independent, never coalescing into the complex hierar-
chical states of the Nahuas in the Valley, they had little
need for the same kind of property, ward, and war maps.
The community maps they made in abundance brought
together spatial records with historical narratives, again
recorded with pictures and pictographs. While Nahua
community maps focused on peregrination and con-
quest, Mixtec ones emphasized genealogy – specifically
the genealogy of each community’s ruling family.
In a characteristic community map, the Lienzo of
Zacatepec of ca. AD 1540–1560, the boundary markers
of Zacatepec’s lands are written down with pictographic
place names to create an inner frame within a rectangular
sheet of cloth. Within this boundary map, the important
ancestors of Zacatepec’s rulers are shown with figures
and named with pictographs.
While the Spanish Conquest inexorably changed
Mesoamerican culture, native communities continued
to make traditional maps to document their boundaries
vis-à-vis those of adjacent communities and to keep
records of community history. While these maps
are best known from Nahuatl- and Mixtec-speaking
communities, other ethnic groups in Mexico had their
versions of community maps. Among them were the
Otomí, Zapotec, Totonac, Huastec, Chinantec, Cuicatec,
Maps and mapmaking in Mesoamerica 1321
and Mazatec. Today, many towns and villages in Mexico
still hold community maps. While these maps may
have been redrawn and reinterpreted in the past five
centuries, their roots remain in the native traditions of
the preconquest period.
Less is known about the history of Maya mapping,
even though the Classic Maya of AD 300–900 left us a
rich record, written in a partly phonetic script, of their
dynastic histories. Existing Maya maps from the
postconquest period show the heavy influence of
European forms and convention. These Maya maps
use the European, not the Maya, alphabet to write place
names. And other Maya records of territory take the
form of written records rather than maps. Such quick
conversion of Maya maps to European forms is
perfectly understandable: having a writing system of
their own, the Maya could easily adapt a foreign one to
create territorial records that took a written, rather than
a map form. In addition, the few Maya maps that we
know of were probably not created to be used among
the Maya, but to be presented to Spaniards in courts.
Thus the effectiveness of these maps in proving
territorial claims was only increased by shedding
native conventions and adopting European ones.
References
Boone, Elizabeth Hill. Maps of Territory, History and
M
Community in Aztec Mexico. Cartographic Encounters.
Ed. G. Malcolm Lewis. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1998. 111–33.
Castillo, F. and M. Victor. Unidades nahuas de medida.
Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 10 (1972): 195–223.
Douglas, Eduardo de J. Figures of Speech: Pictorial History
in the Quinatzin Map of About 1542. The Art Bulletin 85.2
(2003): 281–309.
Glass, John B. A Survey of Native Middle American Pictorial
Manuscripts. Handbook of Middle American Indians.
Ed. Howard F. Cline. Vol. 14. Austin: University of Texas
Press, 1975. 3–80.
Glass, John B. and Donald Robertson. A Census of Native
Middle American Pictorial Manuscripts. Handbook of
Middle American Indians. Ed. Howard F. Cline. Vol. 14.
Austin: University of Texas Press, 1975. 81–252.
Leibsohn, Dana. Primers for Memory: Cartographic Histories
and Nahua Identity. Writing Without Words: Alternative
Literacies in Mesoamerica and the Andes. Ed. Elizabeth
Hill Boone, and Walter D. Mignolo. Durham: Duke
University Press, 1994. 161–87.
Mundy, Barbara E. Mesoamerican Maps. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 3: Cartography in the Tradition-
al African, American, Arctic, Australian and Pacific
Societies. Ed. David Woodward, and G. Malcolm Lewis.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. 183–256.
Oettinger, Marion, Jr. Lienzos Coloniales: una exposición
de pinturas de terrenos communales de México, siglos
XVI–XIX. Mexico: Universidad Nacional Autónoma
de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Antropológicas,
1983.
1322 Maps and mapmaking of the native North Americans
Smith, Mary Elizabeth. Picture Writing from Ancient
Southern Mexico: Mixtec Place Signs and Maps. Norman:
University of Oklahoma Press, 1973.
Trabulse, Elías. Arte y ciencia en la historia de México.
Mexico City: Fomento Cultural Banamex, 1995.
Maps and Mapmaking of the Native
North Americans
G. M ALCOLM L EWIS
When considering the topics of maps and mapmaking
in native North America, Europeans and nonnative
North Americans have until recently tended to treat
them as either novel and exceptional or inferior
equivalents of their own cartographies. This is particu-
larly so in writings before the last quarter of the
twentieth century. Unconsciously but repeatedly, they
imposed their post-Renaissance categories in trying to
understand facets of cultures epistemologically differ-
ent from their own. There is no direct evidence that
before the encounter and associated acculturation, any
of the native North American languages and dialects
had lexical equivalents of “map” and the probability of
there having been any seems decreasingly likely.
During the last quarter of the twentieth century
increasingly rigorous research focused on the artefac-
tual maps past and present, with an inevitable emphasis
on those made in the encounter context. For the most
part, native North Americans were either unable or
unwilling to participate in this research. From their
perspective they could claim to have been uninvited
and unaware of it. Most of the research was by
historians of cartography, untrained in and largely
unaware of cultural and social anthropology, ethnohis-
tory, native North American studies, etc. For the most
part they saw themselves as contributing primarily to
the understanding of a supposedly universal cartogra-
phy. The materials they studied were surviving native
artefacts or, more usually but less satisfactorily,
transcripts and accounts made by earlier generations
of Europeans and nonnative North Americans. Almost
inevitably, there was a tendency to compare and
contrast with what they assumed to be the norms
established by post-Renaissance cartography. The
following text first summarizes their achievements
before attempting to detect early twenty-first-century
trends and anticipate future developments.
At or soon after their first encounters, Europeans
reported that native North Americans made maps. Most
of the early reports were of maps made for Europeans
to communicate geographical information, as for
example a map of the lower Colorado River made by
a Halchidhoma Indian in 1540. Ever since, Europeans
and nonnative North Americans have continued to
solicit and receive geographical intelligence in this
way, whether they were explorers, traders, soldiers,
settlers, missionaries, government agents, field scien-
tists, or cultural anthropologists. It was, and until very
recently remained, an important aspect of frontier
information exchange. Natives communicating in this
way included men of every social status, less frequently
women, and occasionally even children. It occurred in
every culture area and in most, if not all, tribes. Because
of the publicity given to nineteenth-century Arctic
exploration, it has sometimes been assumed that the
Inuit were particularly skilled mapmakers. There is,
however, no evidence that the maps they made for
Europeans were either better or significantly different
from those made by Indians.
In the encounter process, most maps were made with
pencil on paper. Occasionally, however, more tradi-
tional materials were used, e.g., bark, textile, skin, hard
animal tissue, three-dimensional models, and even
rock. The distinctive characteristics of these encounter
maps were, however, neither the media nor the
mapmaking processes. Although Europeans were slow
to recognize it, the natives’ maps differed fundamen-
tally from their own in three important ways. The
geometry was topological, a product of cultural
tradition, individual experience, the shape and size of
the medium, and the purpose for which the map was
made. Unlike European maps, it was not a consequence
of plotting locations on a graticule selected to conserve
particular properties at the expense of others. They
conserved neither scale, direction, nor shape, except for
very small areas.
The second important difference was in the catego-
rization and magnitudinal ordering of the phenomena
represented. Whereas most European maps were
general, serving a range of functions and a diversity
of users, each native map was made for a specific
purpose and audience. These determined content and
emphasis and only the essentials were represented.
Hence, large physical features occurring within the area
mapped were frequently either omitted, diminutive, or
highly generalized, whereas small but contextually
significant features were included and perhaps exag-
gerated. Thus, a large, complexly shaped lake might be
represented by a simple circle, ornamented perhaps by
a detailed representation of one culturally or contextu-
ally significant peninsula. Similarly, an essentially
straight line might represent a long, complex, maritime
coastline.
The third important difference was in the natives’ use
of pictographs as the approximate equivalent of the
Europeans’ combination of words, toponyms, and
conventional map symbols. Pictographs were con-
structed according to culturally established principles

to communicate complex mixes of information about
size, importance, number, relationships, time, distance,
direction, and events, as well as material and organic
phenomena. Richer and far more flexible than the
symbols on European maps, their information content
was rarely intelligible to the aliens. Indeed, when, as
they so frequently did, European’s copied natives’
maps, they often omitted or generalized the pictograph-
ic content. Regrettably, most extant examples of
encounter maps are contemporary transcripts or, worse
still, printed engravings: a small, debased sample of
the many that were made, now scattered in archives,
museums, libraries, government departments, and pri-
vate collections in Europe as well as North America.
Nevertheless, in their time, this type of native map
served the aliens well; they helped them to open up
their terrae incognitae, locate resources, plan military
campaigns, etc. Though usually unacknowledged, they
were frequently incorporated into the first generation of
maps made by the aliens. Sometimes, misinterpretation
and insensitive incorporation resulted in gross errors on
maps made by Europeans, as with the Great River of
the West, the Long River, and the gross westerly
displacement of the mouth of the Mississippi River on
printed eighteenth-century maps.
For some parts of the non-Eurasian world there is
uncertainty as to whether precontact natives did or did
not make maps. Each culture had a strong oral tradition,
an important part of which was concerned with
landscape, place, and spatial relations. Place – and
feature – names were the “survey pegs” of spatial
memory. This was almost certainly so among pre-
Columbian North Americans, but there is considerable
direct and indirect evidence that they also expressed
their oral maps cartographically. For example, in 1540,
Francisco Vásquez de Coronado discovered a painted
skin in an abandoned Zuni pueblo. The pueblo was the
first of the Seven Cities of Cibola ever to be seen by
Europeans, and the painting represented their relative
sizes and a route, probably the one linking them.
Although difficult to date, much, if not most, North
American rock art predates contact with Europeans.
A very small proportion of these works have map-like
appearances, at least when viewed from the European
cultural perspective. Lacking texts, however, and in the
light of the characteristics of native maps as now known,
proof is difficult. Establishing similitude between a
topological representation and its referent is much more
difficult than for a projectively constructed map. Some
celestial paintings on the roofs of rock overhangs in
the Southwest undoubtedly represent exceptional as-
tronomical juxtapositions known to have occurred at
precisely established dates in pre-Columbian times.
Others, like Map Rock, Idaho (a name given by the
earliest white settlers in the lower Snake valley, because
the engraving on it looked to them like a map), do appear
Maps and mapmaking of the native North Americans 1323
to represent topologically and pictographically the pattern
of geographical features in the regions in which they are
sited. These, however, are exceptional cases and irrefut-
able evidence for terrestrial maps in precontact rock art
has still to be established, though the case for plans of
small areas and features is much stronger.
Ironically, the strongest evidence for mapmaking in
precontact times is afforded by very early postcontact
accounts by Europeans of the indigenous use of maps,
usage of a kind that could not have been derived from
European practices. It is debatable whether at the time
of first contact any of the native languages contained
nouns equivalent to map, though at later stages many of
them certainly did. Nevertheless, some Indians certain-
ly possessed an ability to read network patterns as
maps. Montagnais and Naskapi divination by scapuli-
mancy involved inducing random patterns of cracks by
heat or percussion on mammalian bones, and these
were sometimes interpreted to be maps of actual river
systems. Likewise, the women of these tribes some-
times read as trail networks patterns made by biting
folded pieces of birchbark, especially when the patterns
had emerged in mistake for something else intended.
Maps inscribed or painted on the inner surface of
birchbark (or on growing trees from which the bark had
been conspicuously stripped) were frequently positioned
at conspicuous or strategic sites in the Northeastern
forests to convey to friends – and sometimes enemies –
spatially organized information about recent events or
M
planned activities. There are accounts of maps being
made by older men to instruct young braves about to
undertake long journeys for the first time. Map modeling
with whatever materials were at hand was sometimes a
cooperative activity, at its best leading to a geographical
consensus prior to military plannings and strategic
briefings. Cosmological maps were common and usually
combined geographical with mythical elements, the
former most frequently near the center. Where geograph-
ical features were endowed with religious meaning, they
might be topologically displaced. For example, on Lakota
maps of the Black Hills, the Devil’s Tower, located
60 mile to the northwest, was placed within the so-called
Race Track that circumscribed them. Southern Ojibway
birchbark midé-migration scrolls preserve the tradition as
to how the tribe received its religion: from the east via a
great waterway. At the left end of some of the scrolls, the
waterways of part of Minnesota are readily interpretable.
A little to the right, Lake Superior is highly stylized, but
further to the right (east) it becomes increasingly difficult
to relate the linework to the Great Lakes–St Lawrence
River waterway.
By the beginning of the twenty-first century
understanding of the nature and roles of native North
Americans maps was diversifying. There were at least
three reasons. First, and most importantly, the ferment
of ideas generated by Columbus’ quincentenary
1324 Maps and mapmaking of the native North Americans
scholarship had begun to influence the field. Secondly,
scholars outside the field were focusing attention
on often long-known but superficially less map-like
evidence, especially behavioral, including ceremonial.
Thirdly, least obviously, but hopefully in the longer
term most importantly, a younger generation of research-
ers was beginning to emerge, of which some were native
North Americans. It is still too soon to predict all the
consequences of these factors but overt recognition of the
following would seem to be very likely:
1. Native North Americans often expressed spatial
arrangements other than graphically on flat surfaces.
2. Even when expressions of spatial arrangements were
graphical, their geometry was not even approximate-
ly Euclidean.
3. Spatial arrangements were often expressed in nonma-
terial modes, e.g., speech, gesture, and ceremony.
Others in material modes were hitherto unrecognized
except by a few specialists, e.g., landscape design and
architectural space.
4. A given spatial expression was not necessarily
restricted to one discrete world of European episte-
mology – geographical, celestial, or cosmographical,
as reconstructed or remembered from the past,
perceived in the present, or envisaged in the future.
It could include elements of two or more of these.
5. The determinants of silences in a spatial expression
were neither of scale nor metrical magnitude but
unimportance in the context of the specific purpose
for which it was made.
6. Like all their spatial expressions, geographical maps
made for Europeans and Euro-Americans were
always made for a specific purpose but they were
the graphical components only of a much richer
multimode repertoire. Behavioral modes, if any,
used in conjunction with them were either mis-
understood by or unintelligible to the aliens and
were either unreported or misreported.
7. Woodward and Lewis (1998) have provided a
platform on which to base comparative studies of
native North Americans’ maps with those of tradi-
tional peoples elsewhere.
8. Geographical Information Systems (GIS) technolo-
gy will become a powerful tool in studying the
geometrical structure of native North Americans’
graphical maps.
Most native maps represented relatively small areas
and/or were linear, but a few embraced areas as large as
one-third of a million square miles. The information
upon which a map of a very large area was based could
not have been derived from the direct experiences of an
individual or even the cumulative experience of one
group. Most of the content must have been based on
information received by gesture and speech, perhaps
over several generations.
Potentially, at least, maps made by native North
Americans are significant in four broad contexts: legal,
historical, anthropological, and scientific. Though
lawyers have been slow to recognize it, an understand-
ing of the fundamental differences between native and
Euro-American maps helps, in some cases, to explain
disputes between the two cultures concerning treaty
and land sale agreements. Likewise, but with a few
notable exceptions, archeologists and historians have
been slow to recognize the significance of maps made
by natives in such contexts as exploration, mapping,
locating resources, place – and feature – naming, etc.
Similarly, cultural anthropologists have been slow to
explore the relations between maps and other graphical
forms or to use them as evidence in establishing
worldviews, reconstructing lifestyles, etc. Scientists,
including linguists, have not even begun to recognize
their potential significance in such contexts as human
cognition, genetic epistemology, information exchange,
language, categorization of phenomena, etc. These
failures stem, in part, from the absence of a cartobiblio-
graphy to the primary materials. Furthermore, scientists
remain unaware of the now considerable body of
secondary publications that, for the most part, is
confined to the literature of the humanities.
References
Belyea, Barbara. Inland Journeys, Native Maps. Cartogra-
phica 33.2 (1996): 1–16.
Bravo, Michael T. The Accuracy of Ethnoscience: A Study of
Inuit Cartography and Cross-Cultural Commensurability.
Manchester Papers in Social Anthropology 2. Manchester:
Department of Anthropology, University of Manchester,
1996. 36.
De Vorsey, Jr., Native American Maps and World Views in the
Age of Encounter. The Map Collector 58 (1992a): 24–9.
---. Silent Witnesses: Native American Maps. Georgia
Review 46.4 (1992b): 709–26.
---. American Indians and the Early Mapping of the
Southeast. The Southeast in Early Maps. Ed. William P.
Cummings. 3rd ed. Revised and Enlarged by Louis De
Vorsey. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press,
1998. 65–97.
Fossett, Rénne. Mapping Inuktut: Inuit Views of the Real
World. Reading Beyond Words: Contexts for Native
History. Ed. Jennifer S. H. Brown and Elizabeth Vibert.
Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 1996. 74–94.
Green, William. Ioway Indian [Map]. An Atlas of Early Maps
of the American Midwest: Part II. Illinois State Museum
Scientific Papers 29. Comp. W. Raymond Wood. Spring-
field: Illinois State Museum, 2001. 14–7.
Lewis, G. Malcolm. Indian Maps: Their Place in the History
of Plains Cartography. Mapping the North American
Plains. Ed. Frederick C. Luebke, et al. Norman: University
of Oklahoma Press, 1987. 63–80.
---. Metrics, Geometries, Signs, and Language: Sources of
Cartographic Miscommunication Between Native and
Euro-American Cultures in North America. Cartographica
30.1 (1993): 98–106.

---. An Early Map on Skin of the Area Later to Become
Indiana and Illinois. The British Library Journal 22.1
(1996): 66–87.
---. Cartographic Encounters: Perspectives on Native
American Mapmaking and Map Use. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1998a.
---. Maps, Mapmaking, and Map Use by Native North
Americans. The History of Cartography. Ed. David
Woodward. Vol. 2, Book 3. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1998b. 51–182.
---. First Nations Maps, Mapmaking and Map Use in the
Great Lakes Region: A Historical Review. Michigan
Historical Review 30.2 (2004): 1–34.
---. The Study of Maps Made by First Nations Peoples:
Retrospect and Prospect. Cartographic Perspectives 2007
(in press).
Ruggles, Richard I. A Country So Interesting: The Hudson’s
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Rundstrom, Robert A. A Cultural Interpretation of Inuit Map
Accuracy. Geographical Review 80.2 (1990): 155–68.
---. Mapping, Postmodernism, Indigenous People and the
Changing Direction of North American Cartography.
Cartographica 28.2 (1991): 1–12.
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University of Laval Press, 1996. 377–95.
Sundstrom, Linea and Glen Fredlund. The Crazy Mule Maps:
A Northern Cheyenne’s View of Montana and Western
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History 49.1 (1999): 46–57.
Vollmar, Rainer. Indianische Karten Nordamerikas. Berlin:
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Warhus, Mark. Another America: Native American Maps
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Waselkov, Gregory A. Indian Maps in the Colonial Southeast.
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Peter H. Wood, et al. Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 1989. 292–343.
Maps and Mapmaking in Asia
(Prehistoric)
C ATHERINE D ELANO S MITH
There is plenty in Asian prehistoric art to interest the
historian of cartography. It is sometimes difficult to
draw a line between a picture of a place and a map of a
place and it is, of course, impossible to know the
original meaning of any graphic representation made in
the period before writing. Nevertheless, there is a great
Maps and mapmaking in Asia (prehistoric) 1325
deal of evidence that prehistoric people had both the
mental capacity and the communicative and graphic
skills to make maps. Such depictions were made on a
variety of surfaces and in various ways but most
commonly as paintings or engravings (petroglyphs) on
boulders, rocks, cave walls, and cliff faces as well as on
artifacts (bone, pottery, bronzes, etc.).
The earliest recognizable representation of spatial
relationships involves: in Asia as in Europe, a continuous
line – representing a boundary or enclosure – within
which an event (animal trapping or herding, people
standing or dancing) is taking place. For example, a
painting on the wall of a Mesolithic rock shelter in
Bhimbetka (Madhya Pradesh, India) shows, in profile, a
family group mourning a dead child. The scene is placed
in a hut, or some special place, which is represented by
the encircling line. Similarly, a rock-carved enclosure
from Mongolia (Bayan Khongor Province) provides a
close parallel with enclosures in the Paleolithic art of the
Franco-Cantabrian region of western Europe that have
been identified as “hut or game enclosures.” Yet another
Asian parallel comes from Armenia. In this case, the
enclosure depicted, possibly as early as the third
millennium BCE, bears a marked resemblance to an
early historic petroglyph from Jordan carved into a large
stone with a text on another side referring to the
enclosure as an animal pen.
M
Picture Maps
In all these examples, only one element of the com-
position, the enclosure, is rendered in plan (i.e., viewed
from above); all other figures – persons, huts, and
animals – are shown in profile (i.e., as seen from ground
level). It is the defined space of the enclosure, however,
that provides the cartographic key, the intended spatial
relationships of the figures. These spatial representa-
tions are very simple as graphic compositions. Never-
theless, they contain the essence of a map and can be
thought of as simple picture maps. In contrast, one of the
most detailed prehistoric depictions of a village fails to
meet the criteria for even a picture map, for there is
nothing in it to suggest the critical spatial element. The
petroglyphs in question, the Boyar pisanitsas, are found
high on a cliff near Minusinsk, overlooking the Yenesei
River in Siberia. They are thought to date from the last
millennium BCE. The main assemblage is nearly 10 m
long but nowhere in it is any feature or figure shown
in plan. Nor is it easy to be certain, especially in the
absence of an enclosure or frame, that the array of
huts and scatter of human figures were created as
an assemblage and are not merely a palimpsest of
engravings made on quite different occasions, perhaps
separated by long intervals of time.
However, another highly detailed rock painting, one
of many on the cliffs at Cangyuan (Yunnan Province,
1326 Maps and mapmaking in Asia (prehistoric)
China) dating from the last millennium BCE, can be
thought of as a picture map. Not only are the huts neatly
and obviously deliberately positioned along the peri-
meter of a circular enclosure, but also their arrangement
is topologically consistent: the huts on the far side of
the enclosure from the viewer have been drawn upside
down in order to maintain the relationship between the
piles supporting each hut and the line that represents
the village boundary or fence. Other lines project from
the central enclosure like paths and indeed there are
figures, human and animal, shown in profile, walking
along them.
Plan Maps
The identification of objects and landscape portrayed
from above is always difficult and the more so in rock
art where all external evidence is lacking and diagnosis
has to rest on intrinsic visual characteristics. However,
the visual similarity between certain landscape features,
when viewed from high above (i.e., in plan) and some
of the rock art found in Asia, suggests that such
examples were intended to be mimetic. Thus, included
in the assorted petroglyphs of Mugur Surgol (upper
Yenesei) are representations of the local herders’ huts
(yurts) and their surrounding stockyards. Four differ-
ent sets of rock markings – “map signs” – are involved:
solid outlines (squares or rectangles), rectangular
outlines with internal subdivisions or compartments,
rectangular outlines filled with stippling, and empty
outlines, also rectangular or subrectangular. Each of the
petroglyphs in question usually comprises one solid or
compartmentalized shape and one or more stippled, or
empty, rectangular or subrectangular shapes. These
assemblages have been interpreted by archaeologists as
plans of the Mongolian-type yurts found among the
local Tuva, together with the yards and enclosures
around them. Similar “hut and yard” markings are
found in the Altai Mountains. All these are strikingly
like those dating from the end of the Neolithic and,
especially, the middle Bronze Age (third and second
millennia BCE) found in the western Alps, as for
example in Mont Bégo, France. Another category of
plan map is more typical of Mongolian rock paintings.
In these, assemblages comprising relatively large rec-
tangles, usually stippled within, associated with human
or human-like figures and the outline of a bird (eagle)
with wings outstretched, have been interpreted as
representations, rich in religious symbolism, of local
graves, again as seen from above. This style of burial is
known to be ancient and both graves and grave plans
may date from the late Bronze Age.
Celestial Maps
Given the long history of astronomy in many parts of
Asia, prehistoric representations of at least the major
constellations might be expected. Certainly by the end
of the last millennium BCE, the period of the Han
Dynasty in China, the use of “ball and chain” patterns
to represent groups of stars was evidently an already
established tradition. Fully fledged prehistorical celes-
tial maps, however, have yet to be discovered, in the
literature or in the field. There are indications of what is
to come. In 1990, the discovery of a very early historical
map painted on the vault of a tomb was reported (The
Times, 1 February 1990). It shows the heavens divided
into 28 lunar mansions, seven for each of the cardinal
points, which are personified as a Daoist deity. The map,
executed in pastel polychrome, matches the description
given by the Han historian Sima Qian (ca. 145–87
BCE). Elsewhere in Asia, representations of constella-
tions, as well as “ingenious calendars” and the solar and
lunar motifs associated with cosmologial myths, are said
to be common in the rock art of Armenia. This rock art
dates largely from the third millennium BCE, the date
also of an astronomical observatory that was excavated
at Metsamor (Armenia). Similar motifs may also be
found in the pottery decoration of the period.
Cosmological Maps
It would be surprising if cosmological maps were not
proven to be by far the most important category of
Asian mapping in prehistoric times, just as they have
been throughout the historic period (prior to European
involvement). A preoccupation with the origin and
structure of the universe, and above all with the
afterlife and its location, is a fundamental attribute of
human life – a manifestation of humanity’s “cosmic
anguish.” Most, if not all, prehistoric rock art would
have been associated with religion, and much of it
must have reflected various aspects of local belief.
Those responsible for the paintings and peckings, often
made in virtually inaccessible places, would have been
shamans or members of a priestly élite. One notable
characteristic of prehistoric rock art, in Asia as in
Europe, is its concentration into what are best seen as
former ritualistic or holy places, on or at the base of a
particular mountain peak, in or within a close radius of
a high mountain pass, for instance, or associated with
burial places. Thus the “hut and yard” maps should be
seen as a record of a fossilized prayer, perhaps for the
safety or prosperity of the homestead and its inhabi-
tants, and represented as an icon rather than as an exact
configuration of a nearby homestead, yet to be uncove-
red by archaeologists. As the Chinese tomb painting
already described demonstrates, celestial cartography
and cosmological cartography often overlap in their
religious significance. Individual cosmological motifs
are widespread in Asian rock art, such as those relating
to the structure of the cosmos (the Tree of Life or axis
mundi) or to access to the next world (boats, ladders).

They are also found in certain types of decoration, such
as the bronze drums from Borneo and other parts of
Indonesia. However, examples of cosmological maps
from the prehistoric period, as opposed to these indivi-
dual motifs, are few. One Mesolithic rock painting from
Madhya Pradesh, India, is thought to represent, with its
three bands, the three parts of the cosmos (water, air,
and earth).
At present, information about rock art in general in
Asia is both chronologically and geographically
patchy. Some localities – for example in central and
southern India, the peripheral provinces of China and
Mongolia, the upper reaches of the great rivers of
Siberia (Ob, Yenesei, Lena, Amur), around the high
passes of the Pamirs, and the mountains of Armenia in
the vicinity of Uchtasar – are comparatively well
known, but such regions are separated by vast areas of
ignorance, either through lack of exploration or through
lack of reporting, especially in literature accessible to
western scholars. Undoubtedly, though, future research
and the wider reporting of new discoveries will yield a
wealth of prehistoric maps and map-like representa-
tions throughout most of Asia, characterized by strong
regional traditions, most of which will have a close
counterpart elsewhere in the world.
See also: ▶Maps and Mapmaking: Celestial East Asian
Maps, ▶Lunar Mansions in East Asian Astronomy
References
Devlet, M. A. Petroglify Mugur Sargola. Moscow: Nauka, 1980.
Harley, J. B. and David Woodward, ed. The History of
Cartography. Vol. 1. Cartography in Prehistoric, Ancient,
and Medieval Europe and the Mediterranean. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1987; Vol. 2 Book 1.
Cartography in the Traditional Islamic and South Asian
Societies, 1992; Vol. 2 Book 2. Cartography in the
Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies, 1994.
Wang Ningsheng. Yunnan Cangyuan bihua di faxian yu yanjiu
(The Rock Paintings of Cangyuan County, Yunnan: Their
Discovery and Research). Beijing: Wenwu chubanshe, 1985.
Maps and Mapmaking
in Southeast Asia
J OSEPH E. S CHWARTZBERG
Indigenous maps from Southeast Asia were drawn for a
multitude of secular and religious purposes and exhibit
remarkable diversity in respect to medium, style, and
content. Even within individual countries and cultures
the surviving cartographic corpus is likely to be quite
Maps and mapmaking in Southeast Asia 1327
varied, though Burma and Vietnam were moving
toward a national style in recent centuries. Broadly
speaking, maps fall within four main traditions:
1. Tribal, for groups that never came under the cultural
dominance of the great traditions of Hinduism,
Buddhism, or Islam
2. Hindu–Buddhist, for cultures primarily shaped by
influences emanating from India
3. Sinic, for the Vietnamese
4. Malay, for Islamicized peoples in what are now
Indonesia and Malaysia
The number of surviving maps is great for Burma and
Vietnam, and relatively few for Thailand (largely because
of the Siamese tradition of purging documents that were
no longer of current utility), Cambodia, Indonesia, and
Malaysia. For Laos and the Philippines, indigenous maps
are not known to exist. The corpus of known indigenous
maps, however, is not a reliable guide to past cartographic
output, since the accidents of preservation and documen-
tation depend in large measure on the attitudes of colonial
powers and individual scholars with respect to indige-
nous culture. It is likely that many maps still await
discovery, especially in Buddhist temples and monas-
teries on the Southeast Asian mainland.
Tribal maps are documented mainly for the Sakai, an
isolated Negrito people of West Malaysia, the Bataks of
Sumatra, and various Bornean groups collectively
known as Dayaks. For all of these the traditional
M
medium was bamboo, into which designs were etched
to create the map image. For the Sakai the mapped
images served as magical charms to help insure success
in hunting, fishing, and other activities in the places
depicted or to ward off diseases and natural hazards
associated with those places. Batak maps were mainly
cosmographic or divinatory. Dayak maps, the most
recent of which are exceedingly vivid designs on paper
(supplied and preserved by missionaries), relate mainly
to mortuary cults and relate to routes taken by the dead
to reach the netherworld or the upper world and to the
activities that take place therein. Dayaks also had a
system of reading pigs’ livers as if they were maps to
discern auguries of good or bad outcomes for contem-
plated actions in particular places. There are no reliable
guides to when mapping commenced among Southeast
Asian tribal groups.
Hindu–Buddhist maps were drawn on palm leaf, in-
digenous bark paper (often assembled accordian-style
in long folding manuscripts), cloth, and other media. In
dealing with maps in this tradition it is necessary to
distinguish between essentially religious and secular
productions. The former are largely cosmographic,
most depicting all or part of the Buddhist cosmos.
Maps of the terrestrial plane, centered on Mount Meru,
the axis mundi, generally utilized a planimetric per-
spective. Those that also showed the manifold heavens
1328 Maps and mapmaking in Southeast Asia
and hells normally depicted the universe as if seen
mainly in frontal elevation, but sometimes rotated the
horizontal terrestrial plane 90° so as to maintain the
traditional planimetric view for that region. Other
Meru-centered maps show the mountain and its seven
rings of surrounding mountains in vertical profile. One
such depiction, more than 10 m in height, is carved into
a cliff in Central Myanmar (Burma). A sumptuously
illuminated cosmographic narrative, quite popular in
Thailand, is the Trai Phum (Story of Three Worlds,
Traībhūmikathā in Sanskrit). This work, compiled in
ca. 1345, is a variant on the Jataka tales, relating to the
past lives and wanderings of the Buddha. It has gone
through a number of recensions and exists also in
modified form in Myanmar and Cambodia. The longest
manuscript, dating from BE 2319 (AD 1776), provides a
continuous picture on 272 folding panels with an overall
length of 32 m. Six of these panels depict Asia from the
Arabian Sea coast to Korea. No surviving manuscript
predates the sixteenth century. Hindu cosmographies
were probably also painted in Southeast Asia, but apart
from one attributed to Cambodia, none is known to
survive on the mainland. Complex cosmographic works,
however, continue to be made in various media in Bali.
The oldest known geographic map in the Hindu–
Buddhist tradition, dating from the late seventeenth or
early eighteenth century, is a long folded-panel work
showing ecclesiastical and other property holdings in
what is now southern Thailand. Thereafter, there is a
long hiatus in Siamese secular cartography, but the
period of the Chabri Dynasty, 1782–1851, saw a
following of mapmaking under royal patronage. Maps
then produced were mainly topographic and covered
much of Southeast Asia. Some related also to maritime
commerce, one extending as far as Japan, while others
were strictly military. The maps were painted both,
incorporated many standardized conventions, and were
often quite large, the largest measuring S17 by 416 cm.
(roughly 16 × 14 ft). Known Burmese secular maps do
not predate the latter half of the eighteenth century.
But one may safely assume that the mapmaking was
by then a well-established art. Numerous maps, many
covering rather large areas, were drawn for Francis
Hamilton during his sojourn in Burma in 1795 and
attest to the geographic sophistication of educated
Burmese at that time. During the nineteenth century,
if not earlier, the Burmese state engaged official
surveyors and cartographers. Maps on European paper
and cloth became increasingly common with the
passage of time. Burmese maps were drawn largely
for military and political intelligence purposes, some-
times to plan or to document specific campaigns.
Others, showing property holdings and types of land
use, were used for purposes of taxation. Many were
used as aids for laying out new cities, monastic
complexes, irrigation systems, and other public works.
A common feature of Burmese maps was the use of a
regularly ruled grid, very likely to transfer a sketch
from one scale to another, though maps were never
drawn to a uniform scale. Many of the maps from what
is now Myanmar were actually drawn by ethnic Shans
(a Thai people) and other ethnic groups within the
Burmese political orbit. From insular Southeast Asia,
only one presumably geographic map in an essentially
Hindu tradition is known. Drawn on a batik shawl, this
ornate and enigmatically patterned work probably dates
from the early nineteenth century. It has no text, but is
believed to relate to the former princely states of
Surakarta and Yogyakarta, which, though ruled by
Muslim sultans, maintained a largely Hindu court style.
Vietnamese cartography was mainly secular and, as
in Burma, drawn for the military, administrative, and
other political needs of the government. (Cosmographic
maps did exist, but these were mainly in the Hindu–
Buddhist tradition previously described.) The oldest
textual references indicate that secular maps existed as
early as the late eleventh century, though mapping
appears not to have become a serious concern until the
government was reorganized along Sinic bureaucratic
lines some four centuries later. Thereafter, the map style
was a regional variant of a general Sinic tradition, though
changes were evident from one period to another. Many
of the maps were bound, after the Chinese fashion, into
atlases, which, with their abundant text, served also as
gazetteers. The oldest atlas, made in the 1270s, related to a
royal inspection tour of the then relatively circumscribed
Vietnamese state, but it does not survive and its form is
not known. In addition to atlases and regional maps, the
Vietnamese drew route maps, maps of river systems and
coastal maps to facilitate navigation; city plans, some
of which were remarkably detailed; maps of individual
forts and other edifices; and maps documenting tribute
missions to the Chinese court in Beijing.
Surviving maps from the Malay cultural realm,
though few in number, are quite diverse. The oldest,
dating from the late sixteenth century, is a large cloth
map covering the western third of Java. Most of the
map space is given over to the depiction of the small
chiefdom of Timbanganten, whose prince commis-
sioned the work. The symbolization on this map is
particularly distinctive and has no close analog in any
other known work. All the remaining maps show
varying degrees of European influence. A map of
the Bornean Sultanate of Pontianak and another of part
of East Central Java apparently related to administra-
tion and/or taxation. Others related to navigation
and trade. One shows ports and commercial products
of the Malay Peninsula. The others, covering most
of Southeast Asia, are detailed hydrographic charts,
copied onto cowhide, from an early nineteenth-century
Dutch original, but with adaptations indicating indepen-
dent depth soundings and new coastal observations.

These maps were drawn and used by wide-ranging Bugi
pirates and contain abundant text written in the Bugi
script, though Roman numerals were used to indicate
ocean depths. Apart from the surviving nautical maps,
there are textual and other grounds for supposing that
Indonesians made use of maps in long distance naviga-
tion prior to the advent of Europeans in the region.
References
Hamilton, Francis (formerly Francis Buchanan). An Account
of a Map of the Countries Subject to the King of Ava,
Drawn by a Slave of the King’s Eldest Son. Edinburgh
Philosophical Journal 2 (1820): 262–71.
Kennedy, Victor. An Indigenous Early Nineteenth Century
Map of Central and Northeast Thailand. Memoriam Phya
Anumman Rajadhon: Contributions in Memory of the Late
President of the Siam Society. Ed. Tej Bunnag, and Michael
Smithies. Bangkok: The Siam Society, 1970. 315–48 and
eleven appended map plates.
Phillimore, Reginald Henry. An Early Map of the Malay
Peninsula. Imago Mundi 13 (1956): 175–9.
Phasuk, Santaneo and Philip Stott, Royal Siamese Maps: War
and Trade in Nineteenth Century Thailand, Bangkok:
River Books, 2004.
Reynolds, Frank E. and Mani B. Reynolds. Three Worlds
According to King Ruang: A Thai Buddhist Cosmology.
Berkeley, California: Asian Humanities Press, 1982.
Schärer, Hans. Ngaju Religion: The Concept of God Among
a South Borneo People. Trans. Rodney Needham. The
Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1963.
Schwartzberg, Joseph E. Cartography in Southeast Asia.
Cartography in the Traditional East and Southeast Asian
Societies. Vol. 2, Book 2 of The History of Cartography.
Ed. J. B. Harley, and David Woodward. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1994. 689–842.
Tin, Maung Maung and Thomas Owen Morris. Mindon Min’s
Development Plan for the Mandalay Area. Journal of the
Burma Research Society 49.1 (1966): 29–34, plus two maps.
Whitmore, John K. Cartography in Vietnam. Cartography in
the Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies. Vol. 2,
Book 2 of The History of Cartography. Ed. J. B. Harley
and David Woodward. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1994. 478–508.
Maps and Mapmaking in Tibet
J OSEPH E. S CHWARTZBERG
For purposes of this article Greater Tibet includes not
only the present Autonomous Region of Tibet, within
China, but also the Chinese provinces of Qinghai and
Sikang, the Indian regions of Ladakh and Sikkim,
much of Nepal, and Bhutan, which have all been,
greatly influenced by Tibetan Buddhism and other
aspects of Tibetan culture. Despite its small population,
this region has given rise to a remarkably rich and
Maps and mapmaking in Tibet 1329
varied cartographic tradition. Moreover, that anciently
rooted tradition still survives, despite attempts by the
West, China, and India to impose political and cultural
hegemony over the lands of its development.
Given the pervasive role of religion in Tibetan
culture, it is hardly surprising that maps serving a
variety of religious functions form the greater part of
the region’s cartographic corpus. These are commonly
painted on cloth than.kas, which frequently occupy
a focal position in family and monastic altars. The
most abstract of Tibetan religious maps are man.d.alas,
which are regarded as representations of the cosmos
and serve as objects of meditation for clergy and laity
alike. These assume many forms, in both two and
three dimensions, and utilize a wide range of media.
Elaborate man.d.alas fashioned from colored sand or
carved in yak butter may be created over a period of
weeks, but are kept for even less time than it took to
construct them, thereby demonstrating the transience of
all earthly existence. Many cosmographic maps were
divinatory. Others were didactic, for example, paintings
of the bhāvacakra (wheel of life) depicting the various
realms of existence through which souls may transmi-
gate on the path to nirvāna (the ultimate aim of
existence in which the soul is liberated from the painful
round of rebirth). Other forms of didactic painting are
essentially hagiographic, showing various incarnations
of the Buddha, bodhisattvas, or revered lamas sur-
rounded by collages of sacred landscapes depicting
M
particular places associated with their existence, both
on earth and in nonterrestrial portions of the Buddhist
cosmos. Though largely mythic, such places are often
shown with a considerable sense of verisimilitude.
Maps showing the cosmos as a whole or major portions
of it are numerous. Some of these are large mural
paintings. A particularly vivid set of fresco murals in
Bhutan shows the evolution of the cosmos as a suc-
cession of disaggregations of terrestrial and extrater-
restrial elements in space–time as described in various
Indian and Tibetan Buddhist texts dating back to the
fifth century. In these and many other cosmographic
maps Mount Meru, the axis mundi, and four principal
surrounding continents in the terrestrial plane figure
prominently. Maps of other continents are also painted,
two of particular note being Sukhāvatī (the Western
Paradise) and the mountain-girt utopian realm of
Śambhala (whence James Hilton’s “Shangri-la”). Bards
used to wander about Tibet illustrating stories of the way
to Śambhala with map scrolls on which routes began
in recognizable places, but led ultimately to mythic space.
To devout Tibetans, however, the distinction between the
real and the mythic would seem a false dichotomy.
Geographically identifiable locales do figure promi-
nently in Tibetan religious maps. Many show individu-
al religious edifices and centers such as the Potala and
Tashilunpo, the residences of the Dalai and Panchen
1330 Maps and mapmaking in Vietnam
Lamas, respectively; Lhasa and Shigatse, in which
those two residences are, respectively, located; or
Samye, Tibet’s oldest monastic complex. Others show
sacred landscapes in which groups of such centers,
especially those proximate to Lhasa, are clustered.
Some maps focused on Mount Kailas, in western Tibet,
viewed as the earthly manifestation of Mount Meru,
around which a complex of sacred pilgrimage places
developed. Large sacred maps were displayed along the
walls of the monasteries where they were held during
certain holidays, when pilgrims would flock to major
religious centers. One such painting, displayed annual-
ly in the Nepali town of Patan, has a length of more
than 25 m and provides a rich panoramic view of the
Vale of Kathmandu. Maps were made not only to serve
the needs of pilgrims, but were also commissioned to
commemorate pilgrimages completed. A particularly
beautiful example, dedicated in AD 1802, depicts the
patron and his entourage at many of the major pilgrimage
places in central Nepal.
When Tibetans began to make maps is not known,
but the roots of Tibetan cartography run deep. One of
the most remarkable maps, depicting the anciently
known world, appears in a modern recension of a
dictionary of the Zang Zung language (probably Indo-
European), formerly spoken in western Tibet. Though
the places shown, reaching as far west as Egypt and
Greece, were compressed into the form of a rectangular
man.d.ala, thereby losing much of their geographic
logic, most could be related to the period of Alexander
the Great (late fourth century BCE). The map itself
focuses on Parsogard, the Achaemenid capital from
550 to 522 BCE. There are grounds to believe that some
version of this map was transmitted from antiquity to
the present, despite the fact that no premodern version
is known to survive. Another simpler, but equally
cryptic, surviving world map was brought to Japan
in AD 891.
Apart from the two world maps just noted, one map
of Nepali provenance (but stylistically akin to Tibetan
maps) covers a very large region of Central and
Southwest Asia, with western limits at Baghdad and the
Russian city of Saratov, on the Volga River. It has been
argued that this map was commissioned ca. 1860 in
relation to a contemplated, but never consummated,
grand alliance to drive the British from Asia. This
richly detailed map, despite its late date, includes
numerous features that are essentially mythic.
A remarkable series of maps is that of the so-called
Wise Collection in London’s India Office Library. Wise’s
identity has not been established; but there are grounds
to believe that the maps were prepared by Buddhist
recruits (later dubbed pundits) from India’s Himalayan
territories who traveled over much of Tibet in disguise
to gather intelligence. British training notwithstanding,
the style of these maps is distinctly Tibetan.
With the aforementioned exceptions, regional maps
from Tibet seldom cover more than a few thousand
square kilometers. None is known to predate the
late eighteenth century. As a group, the maps in
question are remarkably detailed and utilize a well-
developed set of symbolic and color conventions. They
typically combine diverse perspectives: planimetric,
high oblique, and frontal, depending on the features
shown. Important buildings are sometimes shown as if
seen from several sides simultaneously. There is no
consistent orientation. Regrettably, only a few Tibetan
maps have yet been studied as such by scholars with
the needed cultural sensitivity and linguistic skills.
References
Banerjee, N. R. and O. P. Sharma. A Note on a Painted Map
of the Kathmandu Valley at the National Museum, New
Delhi. Marg, A Magazine of the Arts 38.3 (ca. 1986):
77–80.
Gole, Susan. A Nepali Map of Central Asia. South Asian
Studies 8(1992): 81–9.
Gumilev, L. N. and B. I. Kuznetsov. Two Traditions of
Ancient Tibetan Cartography. Soviet Geography: Review
and Translation 11.7(1970): 565–79.
Huber, Toni. A Tibetan Map of Lho-kha in the South-Eastern
Himalayan Borderlands of Tibet. Imago Mundi 44(1992):
8–23.
Schwartzberg, Joseph E. Maps of Greater Tibet. Cartography
in the Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies.
Vol. 2, Book 2 of The History of Cartography. Ed. J. B.
Harley, and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1994. 607–81.
Slusser, Mary Shepherd. The Cultural Aspects of Newar
Painting. Heritage of the Kathmandu Valley: Proceedings
of a Conference in Lübeck, June 1985. Ed. Niels Gutschow
and Alex Michaels. Sankt Augustin, Germany: Hans
Richarz Publikations-Service, 1987. 3–27.
Maps and Mapmaking in Vietnam
J OHN K. W HITMORE
The tradition of mapping began in Vietnam just over
half a millennium ago. As the state of Dai Viet, led by
the young king Le Thanh-tong (1460–1497), adopted
the administrative model of the Ming dynasty in China
and became more centralized, mapping served as one
of the procedures to that end. The new bureaucratic
structure placed officials in the provinces and districts
and ordered that these officials gather and relay
information to the capital of Thang-long (now Hanoi)
on the land and people within their jurisdictions. Maps

were part of the required information, and they led
eventually to an atlas covering the entire country. This
atlas and its maps in the Chinese mode set the pattern of
administrative cartography well into the nineteenth
century.
The same reign also saw the extension of Vietnamese
territory to the south as Thanh-tong crushed the forces
of Champa in 1471. A map showing the stages of
the expedition became the model for military and
commercial cartography in the following three cen-
turies. As these centuries were a time of military and
commercial expansion, particularly of the Nam Thien
(Southern Push) further down the east coast of
mainland Southeast Asia through Champa and into
Cambodia, this style of map came to reflect the
dynamics of the Vietnamese population.
International contacts in the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries led to a new style of administrative
mapping which combined a more realistic Western
(particularly French) style with stronger Chinese
elements. Yet, by the end of the nineteenth century,
as French colonialism controlled the Vietnamese state,
there appeared a shift toward a more complete Sinic
[Chinese] mode of illustrating maps.
No technical study of Vietnamese maps based on
the original documents exists. Looking at reproduc-
tions, mainly in black and white, yields the following
observations. The maps available to us are almost
entirely hand drawn in black ink, some with added
color to emphasize their features. Only in the mid-
nineteenth century did printing begin to play a major
role in cartography here.
The earliest extant map, most likely from the
sixteenth century, is quite simple in form and style.
Lines were drawn to show the rivers and the land
separating them. Nothing indicates water in the
streams, and the standard Chinese three-ridge pattern
for mountains served to suggest the highland regions
above the plains. Names (in Chinese characters)
marked location with no other symbol employed.
This changed in the seventeenth century as the
earliest existing major corpus of indigenous maps
appeared. They had become more artistic. Water was
drawn in the streams and off the coast (river currents
and roiling sea waves). Mountains retained the same
style, but more accurately designated Vietnam’s up-
lands. In addition, palaces, temples, and walls appeared
(in frontal elevation), while jurisdictional locations
were marked by written characters in rectangular boxes
with little sense of hierarchy among them. Other
characters showed the locations of natural features and
additional human constructions.
In the eighteenth century, Vietnamese cartography
took on in places a more artistic and Sinic mode. This
change appeared particularly in the style of portraying
the mountains. In place of the simpler three-ridge style,
Maps and mapmaking in Vietnam 1331
there came to be a more naturalistic landscape mode
which well fit the vertical karst topography of northern
Vietnam (and southern China). In addition, waves
lapped on the shore, and temples and walls received a
more Sinic treatment. The maps were drawn in black
ink with colors (red, gray, and blue, for example) used
to highlight roads, buildings, and mountains.
The nineteenth century saw more sophisticated
international influences appear in Vietnamese mapping.
Southern political forces had contact with French
military figures and adopted the Vauban style of
fortification. Simultaneously, the new Nguyen dynasty
chose to hew more closely to the contemporary Qing
dynasty of China. Though elements of the old Le style
would continue, more realistic elements appeared on
Vietnamese maps within the context of Chinese forms.
A regional division of the country led the north to
maintain the old style as French forms appeared in the
south. The central region around the capital of Hue
gradually forged a national style which, by 1840,
showed the country of Dai Nam and its hydrographic
complexities in a European perspective.
While becoming more realistic in outline, the artistic
style shifted from the earlier sketchiness to a more
specifically Chinese mode. This change appeared
particularly in the mountains with their vertical and
naturalistic mode, continuing to match the karst
topography of the north. The new international style
developed through the nineteenth century until the
M
French conquest in the 1880s. Thereafter, in the early
years of the twentieth century, the reaction against
French rule among Vietnamese literati led to the greater
emphasis on the Chinese style over the realistic mode.
The first centuries of Vietnamese mapping (fifteenth
to eighteenth) produced two different genres: one
administrative, the other military/commercial. The first,
the atlas, originated in Le Thanh-tong’s governmental
transformation of the 1460s. In it, each of the thirteen
provinces had a map showing the location of its
prefectures and districts and a list of the types and
numbers of villages contained therein. In addition, the
atlas included a map of the country, noting the location
of each province, and a map of the capital Thang-long.
Despite originating in the fifteenth century, the earliest
extant atlas, the Hong Duc Ban Do (Maps of the
Hongduc Era), comes from the mid-late seventeenth
century. As noted above, a single map of the country,
showing its administrative units, does seem to be from
the sixteenth century. In the atlases, natural features,
particularly rivers, and some human construction like
city walls and temples were also noted. The maps
generally are seen from the sea (the east) and hence
have a Western orientation. Since the Le dynasty
(1428–1787) rose from the then southern provinces of
Thanh-hoa and Nghe-an, these two maps came first
after those of the country and the capital.
1332 Maps and mapmaking in Vietnam
The other genre involved itineraries of different
kinds, each a series of maps showing the way (usually
from the capital region around present-day Hanoi) out
to a distant location. The genre seems to have
originated in Le Thanhtong’s major campaign south
against Champa in 1470–1471. Again, the earliest
extant example comes from the seventeenth century,
the Thien Nam Tu Chi Lo Do Thu (Book of the Major
Routes of Thien Nam). At that time, the southern route
was joined to three shorter routes to China: northeast,
northwest, and north (the standard route to Beijing).
These maps, and particularly those of the southern
route, provide much more detail of daily life than
does the atlas. They illustrated features of the land,
the rivers, and the sea as well as elements of
Vietnamese common and commercial life (markets,
inns, temples, military installations, etc.). Another
seventeenth-century itinerary, the Binh Nam Do (Map
of the Conquest of the South), comes from the southern
regime of the Nguyen and takes us through their
territory of central and southern Vietnam to Cambodia.
It shows the path of the Southern Expansion (Nam
Thien) of the Vietnamese people then taking place.
The eighteenth century produced new, more artistic
versions of the seventeenth-century atlas and itiner-
aries. In addition, a new itinerary appeared in various
forms – that of the Vietnamese embassy north to the
Qing capital of Beijing in northern China. Once across
the Chinese border, the delegation traveled mainly by
river and canal, and these sets of maps were drawn
from that perspective, showing the mountains and
villages stretching away from both sides of the route.
Finally, at the end of the century, there appeared
the only known map of the brief Tay-son dynasty
(1788–1802), a single page showing Siam (Thailand)
and the routes through it from north to south. This map,
like all other pre-1800 ones, had very little sense of the
river systems to the south, particularly the Mekong
Delta and the Great Lake of Cambodia.
Three major developments led to cartographic
change in the nineteenth century: the international
context, the initial regional control of the country
(north, center, and south), and the borrowing of the
Chinese geography form. The combination of these
three brought the gradual emergence of a new form of
mapping. This single form, the geography with maps
accompanying the text, replaced the Le atlas as an
administrative tool. Curiously, the genre of the itinerary
disappeared, continuing only in the reproduction of
earlier texts.
Just as the northern and southern regional autonomy
was finally integrated into the central government
during the 1830s, so their styles merged with that of the
center and its usage of European and Chinese elements,
as seen in the Dai Nam Toan Do (Complete Map of Dai
Nam). The map of the entire country, now stretching
from China to Cambodia, in particular took on a more
Western form. The coast and the southern rivers, even
the Great Lake of Cambodia, appear much more
familiar, and the provincial maps are more realistic in
our eyes, showing rivers in a dendritic manner for
example [having a branched form].
Blending the new maps with the geography form of
the Chinese yi-tong-zhi (Vietnamese nhat-thong-chi),
Nguyen cartography reached its peak first in the Dai
Nam Nhat Thong Du Do (Maps of the Unity of Dai
Nam) of 1861 and finally in the imperial geography, the
Dai Nam Nhat Thong Chi (Record of the Unity of Dai
Nam). The latter, compiled and printed between 1865
and 1882, is a text describing the country of Dai Nam,
its capital of Hue, and the 29 provinces and presenting
maps of each of them. Even though the French had
already seized the six provinces of the south, the
Tu-duc Emperor kept this section in the geography
together with those of the center and north as a
symbolic representation of the whole.
Mapping of the nineteenth century was thus almost
entirely involved with administrative matters, like the
old Le atlas. The only itineraries were copies of the
seventeenth- and eighteenth-century maps. The country
map in the administrative collections did, however,
provide a broader international setting than had
occurred under the Le. This was done in a form similar
to the European mapping of the time.
The major new form of map in the nineteenth century
was part of the dia-bo, the land registers. Recording the
land plots of each village, these documents show them in
outline and provide their dimensions and type. The
government produced these maps in a number of survey
(and resurvey) campaigns through the first half of the
century. Another new form of map was the symbolic
diagram of the imperial tombs. The resulting drawings
emphasized the symbolic relationships of mountains
and water, and show the strongly Chinese style adopted
by the Nguyen dynasty.
Vietnamese mapping was mainly the result of
400 years of administrative effort. Beginning with
Le Thanh-tong’s reforms in the 1460s, the need to
know the bureaucratic jurisdictions and their villages
led to the Le atlases and the Nguyen geographies.
The fifteenth-century military campaign began the
Vietnamese itinerary which to all appearances became
commercial. The Vietnamese cartographic tradition
was almost entirely internal, not external. Until the
1830s maps rarely showed much beyond their borders,
the major exception being the eighteenth-century
embassies to China. In addition, all the routes
illustrated were by land, not by sea.
See also: ▶Geography in China

References
Truong Buu Lam, ed. Hong Duc Ban Do (Maps of the Hong
Duc Era). Saigon: Bo Quoc-gia Giao-duc, 1962.
Whitmore, John K. Cartography in Vietnam. The History
of Cartography. Vol. II, Book 2. Cartography in the
Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies. Ed. J. B.
Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1994. 478–511.
Marāgha
G REGG DE Y OUNG
The observatory, located just outside Marāgha, the
capital of the Ilkhānid kingdom, represents one of the
most comprehensive examples of an astronomical
research institution within the context of Islamic
civilization. It is reported, on the authority of Nas.īr
al-Dīn al-T.ūsī, its first director, that construction of the
observatory began under the patronage of Hūlāgū,
Mongol conqueror of the region, in 657 AH/AD 1259.
The remains of the observatory buildings still occupy a
hilltop position near the city in Azerbayjan.
Construction at the site was overseen by Mu’ayyad
al-Dīn al-‘Urd. ī, who wrote a treatise describing his
efforts. In addition to the main observatory building,
the site included a mosque and a residence for Hūlāgū,
who took an active part in the work of the astronomers.
The main building was described by contemporary
witnesses as “huge” and there are reports that its library
exceeded 400,000 treatises. There is also a report of a
“high tower,” as well as a domed structure which may
have been the central building of the observatory. The
dome was pierced, allowing sunlight to enter for the
determination of equinoxes, as well as for measuring
solar mean motions and elevations. There are still
traces of a massive masonry-mounted mural quadrant,
probably having a radius of more than 4 m, outside one
of the observatory buildings.
Al-‘Urd. ī also had charge of constructing the
observational instruments for the observatory, although
it is doubtful that he would have constructed them all
personally. He reports completion of their construction
during 660 AH/AD 1261–1262. In addition to the
mural quadrant, which was used to determine the
latitude of the observatory as well as the obliquity of
the ecliptic, the observatory included other large
instruments: (1) an armillary sphere, consisting of five
rings and an alidade (or sighting devise), and having a
maximum radius of about 1.6 m, (2) a solstitial armilla,
a bronze circle with diameter of about 1.25 m equipped
with an alidade, which was placed in the plane of
Marāgha 1333
the ecliptic for determining solstice points, (3) an
equinoctial armilla, similar to the solstitial armilla but
with a second ring that could be aligned with the plane
of the equator in order to determine equinoxes ac-
curately, (4) an instrument with two holes on a sighting
rod used to determine the apparent diameters of the sun
and moon, as well as for observing eclipses, (5) an
azimuth ring equipped with two quadrants and two
alidades to measure angles of elevation, (6) a parallactic
ruler which could make measurements equivalent to
those made on a circle with a radius of 2.5 m, (7) an
instrument for measuring azimuthal altitude and the sine
of the complement of that angle of elevation, (8) a
similar instrument to measure the azimuthal altitude and
the sine of the angle of elevation, and (9) an instrument
similar to a parallactic ruler, but not fixed in the meridian
plane. In addition to these large instruments, there were
many smaller ones, including planispheric astrolabes
and quadrants, terrestrial and celestial globes, timekeep-
ing devices, star charts, maps, and representations of the
heavenly spheres.
Not only the observatory was the best equipped of
the medieval period, but also it was the best staffed.
In addition to Nas.īr al-Dīn al-T.ūsī and Mu˒ayyad al-Dīn
al-‘Urd. ī, such luminaries as ‘Alī ibn ‘Umar al-Qazwīnī,
Fakhr al-Dīn al-Akhlātī, Fakhr al-Dīn al-Marāghī,
Muh.yi al-Dīn al-Maghribī, Qut.b al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī,
Shams al-Dīn al-Shirwānī, Najm al-Dīn al-Qazwīnī,
‘Abd al-Razāk ibn al-Fuwwatī (the librarian), Kamāl
M
al-Dīn al-Ayta, Athīr al-Dīn al-Abharī, al-T.ūsī’s two
sons – As.īl al-Dīn and S.adr al-Dīn – and even a Chinese
astronomer, Fao Mun Ji. (The presence of the latter
indicates a growing interaction between the Islamic and
Chinese astronomical traditions made possible and
encouraged during the period of Mongol domination.)
The activities of the scholars were supported by a full
complement of technicians, instrument makers, and
administrators.
The major result of the activities of the observatory
was the production of a new set of astronomical tables,
the Zīj-i Ilkhānī, completed in 671 AH/AD 1272,
nearly 12 years after the observatory opened. Although
the treatise contains many new observations, it did not
incorporate any of the sophisticated critiques of the
Ptolemaic cosmology being developed at that time in
the observatory. The tables were widely used and
frequently cited. The organization of the treatise
(chronology, movements of stars in longitude and
latitude, determination of times of ascendants, and
astrological predictions) often served as a model for
later zīj literature.
It was generally argued by astronomers that, in order
to produce a full set of astronomical tables, observa-
tions should be made over a 30-year period (the time
for Saturn to complete one revolution around the sky).
1334 Marāgha
Most observatories prior to Marāgha had been forced to
adopt less ambitious research programs, for they did
not long survive the death of their founding patron. The
Marāgha observatory is a notable exception. Hūlāgū,
its royal patron, died in 663 AH/AD 1265 and al-T.ūsī,
the founder, died in 672 AH/AD 1274. After al-T.ūsī’s
death, the observational activities continued at a
somewhat slower pace under the leadership of S.adr
al-Dīn al-T.ūsī. Thirty years later, al-T.ūsī’s younger
son, As.īl al-Dīn, was named head of the institution.
This marks the last recorded activity on the site. Thus,
this observatory continued to function for nearly five
decades before being abandoned and falling into ruins.
One possible reason for the extraordinary longevity
of this institution is the use of waq f funds to support
the operation of the observatory. (A waqf is a grant of
property in perpetuity for the support of religious or
charitable institutions. Thus, not only many mosques
are supported by income derived from waqf properties,
but also orphanages, soup kitchens, hospices, schools,
libraries, hospitals, and other public service institu-
tions. The Marāgha observatory seems to be the only
example in which an observatory receiving waqf
support.) Several sources indicate that al-T.ūsī, in
addition to directing the observatory, was also charged
with administering waqf funds throughout the state.
Some sources indicate that about a tenth of all waqf
revenues was earmarked for expenses of the observa-
tory. It is not clear whether this unusual use of waqf
funds generated any sort of public outcry. If nothing
else, it seems to indicate that the work of the
observatory was intended to be ongoing, not merely
an intense short-term effort.
Perhaps the use of waqf funds to support the
observatory was easier to justify in light of the
extensive instructional activity carried on within its
precincts. It was not uncommon to endow a madrasa
(an institution of learning, usually focused on religious
and legal sciences) with waqf funds. Our sources tell us
that the observatory was a center of teaching in
mathematical, astronomical, and related sciences. The
educational program was apparently organized analo-
gously to that of a madrasa, although the accounts in
our sources are too vague to be certain.
In addition to teaching the classics of the ancient
mathematical and mathematical astronomy traditions,
the Marāgha observatory was also a focus for an
important movement to criticize and reform Ptolemaic
(Greek) astronomical theories. Ptolemy was perceived
to have disregarded the essential sphericity and
uniformity of the celestial motions postulated by Plato
and other earlier thinkers. Ptolemaic theory described
each planet as carried daily from east to west across the
vault of the sky by the motion of the sphere of fixed
stars. This diurnal motion is complicated by the
observation that each planet sets a bit late in relation
to the fixed stars and the planet moves across the
heavens in a path not parallel to the fixed stars.
Moreover, most of the naked-eye planets seem, from
time to time, to slow to a stop and temporarily reverse
their direction of motion (retrograde motion). To
account for these observations, the Greeks had assumed
that each planet must be fixed to a small sphere
(epicycle) whose center is carried around by a larger
sphere (the deferent), whose axis does not coincide
with that of the fixed stars, and whose proper motion of
rotation (zodiacal motion) is contrary to the east to west
direction of the fixed stars and their diurnal motion.
The motion of the epicycle center as seen from earth
was not fully uniform, however, implying that the earth
must not be at the geometric center of the motions on
the deferent. The distance of the earth from the center
of the deferent sphere (the eccentricity) was established
by observational considerations. When this distance is
determined, however, the observed angular velocities
are only about half what is predicted. To remedy this
problem, Claudius Ptolemy had postulated that uniform
angular motion took place about a point (equant)
located twice the value of the eccentricity from the
earth along the line from the earth through the center of
the deferent sphere. This postulate allows uniform
motion in the sense of sweeping out equal angles in
equal time increments when observed from the equant,
but uniform motions in the sense of equal arcs traversed
in equal increments of time does not occur. Herein lies
the central problem that the Marāgha school of
cosmography tried to resolve: how to construct a
physical model of the spherical universe that fits the
assumptions of uniform circular motion in both senses
of that term and that gives predictions with the same
level of accuracy as did Ptolemy’s equant model.
Al-T.ūsī, assuming that Ptolemy’s circular motions
were intended to be performed by true physical spheres
and not just mathematical spheres, developed a system
of spheres rolling inside one another to account for the
observed zodiacal motions of the planets. The result of
these motions, each truly uniform and circular in the
Platonic sense, is that the planet follows the spherical
path required by Greek cosmography while displaying
the observed variations in velocity, thus overcoming
the fundamental conceptual disjunction that Ptolemy
had introduced by separating the circularity from the
uniformity in the motions.
Al-T.ūsī is best known among historians of science
for his modification of a theorem of Proclus which
demonstrates that when a circle, whose diameter is
equal to the radius of a larger circle, rolls inside the
circumference of the larger while rotating on its axis in
the opposite direction with the same velocity, a point on
the circumference of the smaller circle will execute a
simple harmonic oscillation along a diameter of the
larger circle. Al-T.ūsī used his device, now known as a
“T.ūsī Couple,” to describe the anomalous motion of the
equant in Ptolemy’s description of Mercury’s motions.

It was further exploited by al-T.ūsī’s pupil, Ibn al-
Shāt.ir, and others at the Marāgha observatory.
Copernicus employed an essentially similar geomet-
ric device more than two centuries later in constructing
his lunar model. This striking similarity of technique
has led to questions concerning the originality of
Copernicus. Arabic manuscripts describing al-T.ūsī’s
model are known to have been in the Vatican Library
by the time Copernicus journeyed to Rome, and some
bear Latin annotations. Moreover, a late Byzantine
Greek manuscript with a detailed exposition of al-
T.ūsī’s scheme was also present in Italian libraries while
Copernicus studied there. Tantalizing as such evidence
may be, it is still not possible to determine with
certainty whether the intellectual antecedents of the
Copernican geocentric hypothesis may lie in Marāgha.
See also: ▶Nas.īr al-Dīn al-T.ūsī, ▶al-‘Urdī,
▶al-Shīrāzī, ▶Armillary sphere, ▶Quadrant, ▶Maps,
Celestial, ▶Astrolabe, ▶Clocks and Watches,
▶Astronomy in China, ▶Astronomy in Islam,
▶Astronomical Instruments in Islam, ▶Observatories
in Islamic World
References
Kennedy, E. S. Late Medieval Planetary Theory. Isis 57
(1966): 365–78.
Ragep, F. J. Nasir Al-Din Al-Tusi’s Memoire on Astronomy.
2 Vols. Berlin Heidelberg New York: Springer, 1993.
Saliba, G. A History of Arabic Astronomy: Planetary
Theories During the Golden Age of Islam. New York:
New York University Press, 1994.
---. Arabic Planetary Theories and Their Impact on Copernican
Astronomy. Cosmology Through Time: Ancient and Modern
Cosmologies in the Mediterranean Area. Ed. S. Colafran-
cesco and G. Giobbi. Milan: MIMESIS, 2003. 153–160.
Sayılı, Aydın. The Observatory in Islam and Its Place in the
General History of the Observatory. 2nd ed. Ankara: Turk
Tarih Kurumu Basimevi, 1988.
Seeman, H. Die Instrumente der Sternwarte zu Maragha nach
dem Mitteilungen von al-‘Urdī. Sitzungberichte der
physikalisch-medizinischen Sozietät zu Erlangen 60
(1928): 15–126.
Vardjavand, P. Rapport préliminaire sur les fouilles de
l’observatoire de Marâqe. Farhang: Quarterly Journal of
Humanities and Cultural Studies 15–16 (2003): 145–57.
Māshā˒allāh
R ICHARD L EMAY
Māshā˒allāh ibn Atharī was a Jewish astrologer who
was born in the southern city of Basra ca. 730 in the
later Umayyad caliphate and survived till ca. 815. If he
was ever converted to Islam, as his name Mā˒shā˒allāh
Māshā˒allāh 1335
seems to imply, it is not made clear in any of the
original sources such as the Fihrist. His respectful tone
toward the Caliphs in his Fī qiyām al-Khulafā˒ would
certainly befit a Muslim more than a Jew. At any rate he
wrote extensively in Arabic, and he was called upon
by the second Abbasid Caliph al-Mans.ūr (754–775) to
assist in the laying of the foundations of Baghdad in
762. Hence by that time he was surely a well known
astrologer active in the Babylonian region, representa-
tive perhaps of the Jewish culture long settled in the area.
A celebrated astrologer in his time, Māshā˒allāh was
either the founder or a leader of a school of Jewish
astrologers in Mesopotamia. Apart from his participa-
tion in the laying of the foundations of Baghdad, we
know rather little of the circumstances of his life.
Though sparse on biographical details, the principal
Arab bibliographers al-Nadīm (Fihrist, AD 987) and
Ibn al-Qift.i (Tā˒rīkhal-h.ukamā˒, ca. AD 1248) credit
Mā˒shā˒allāh with a sizeable number of works. On the
other hand, the Jewish Encyclopedia confuses him in
part with Maslama al-Majrīt.ī, probably because of
the similarity of names. Paul Kunitzsch has recently
established that the Latin treatise on the astrolabe long
ascribed to Mā˒shā˒allāh and translated by John of
Seville is in fact by Ibn al-S.affār, a disciple of Maslama
al-Majrīt.ī.
In his astrological doctrine Mā˒shā˒allāh seems to
have depended principally on the Persian tradition,
though a late Byzantine translation of one of his works
M
shows that he could also quote from Greek authors such
as Plato, Aristotle, and Hermes. Mā˒shā˒allāh’s works
have not survived extensively in Arabic and it is thanks
to the Latin translations, mostly by John of Seville in
twelfth century Spain, that we have access to a large
number of those ascribed to him.
Mā˒shā˒allāh’s contribution in Arabic astrology must
be linked with the widespread use of astrological
prognostication in the Mesopotamian area since very
ancient times. The thirteenth century bibliographer Ibn
Khallikān recalls the extensive use of this “projective
tool” in the politics and social life of the early Arab
empire. What has survived of Mā˒shā˒allāh’s works
shows that the substance of his astrological knowledge
owes but little to Greek philosophy proper. Assuredly,
there flourished in Sassanian times a trend to borrow
from Greek (Alexandrian) astrology, apparently only to
consolidate a native tradition of learning. And it is this
Sassanian lore above all that nourishes Mā˒shā˒allāh’s
production. On the other hand, it is historically con-
firmed that the passion for Greek learning among the
Arabs was engendered by the caliph al-Ma˒mūn’s
(813–833) enthusiasm for the philosophy of Aristotle,
too late for Mā˒shā˒allāh to share significantly in this
outburst. The fresh start taken by “scientific” astrology
under al-Ma˒mūn’s prodding is noticeable in the works
of al-Kindī, of Abū Ma˒shar, and the members of
the Bayt al-H.ikma (House of Wisdom) founded by
1336 Māshā˒allāh
al-Ma˒mūn. Compared with their works, those of
Mā˒shā˒allāh and of his generation show no clear and
systematic use of the axioms of peripatetic philosophy
to buttress the principles of astrological science as was
done so decidedly a generation later.
Mā˒shā˒allāh’s reputation remained high in the
following generation as witnessed by Abū Ma˒shar’s
praise of him, according to the Mudhākarāt (Memora-
bilia) of S.a˒id ibn Shad. ān. Yet, it is mostly for one
single astrological topic, the “projection of rays”
(matrah. al-shu˓ā˓āt), that Abū Ma˒shar lavishes praise
on Mā˒shā˒allāh.
An important historical factor affecting the preser-
vation of Mā˒shā˒allāh’s works, and consequently of
his reputation as a leader in Arab astrology, must be
stressed at this point. As stated above, his works were
virtually superseded in Arabic astrology by the works
of the generation which followed his death. Why then
do we possess so many of his manuscripts in Latin
translation? This seems to have resulted from the
special interest manifested in Mā˒shā˒allāh’s works by
John of Seville (Johannes Avendauth, or Ibn Dawūd).
Having set about to translate for the benefit of Latin
scholars the works of the “prince” of Arab astrologers
Abū Ma˒shar (no Arab himself but Persian/Afghan
since he came from the “Bactrian” city of Balkh), John
enlarged his program of translation to include the
corpus of Jewish astrologers of the early Abbasid era.
Within the scope of Arab astrological doctrines there
developed a side which stemmed from the application
of the scheme of planetary conjunctions in relation to
the zodiacal signs and various triplicities in which they
might occur. But it was Jupiter’s special prerogative to
foster religious life. The conjunction theory animating
astrological history turned principally around the con-
junctions of Saturn and Jupiter to signal the emergence,
duration, and waning of sects (Arabic milal ) when
referred to religions, or of dynasties and empires
(duwal) when applied to military domination. A basic
element of the scheme was the association of each
planet with what was classified as “great civilizations”,
mostly religions with cultures that set religion as their
guiding light. Saturn as the most distant planet was
appropriated to the Judaic faith, the Sun to the Roman
Empire, and Venus to Islam. This was in a nutshell the
astrological exercise of the “horoscope of religions” as
it came to be known in the Latin West.
The most famous of such interpretations was embodied
in Abū Ma˓shar’s Great Conjunctions. Associating the
spread of the Judaic religion with the rule of the planet
Saturn, the sway of the Roman Empire with that of the
Sun, and of the Arab Empire with that of Venus, etc.,
the scheme thereby stressed the primeval character
of the Jewish faith in accordance with the status of
Saturn, the highest and most distant planet. The vicissi-
tudes of planetary conjunctions thereafter unfolding
along the variety of signs in which they occurred
successively, rendered Judaic monotheism anachronis-
tic. It was replaced in time by the Roman Empire,
which in turn was displaced by “manicheism” when the
prophet Mani appeared, until the rise of Islam.
In ninth-century Baghdad there was great concern
among the Abbasid rulers and the Arab elites who were
confronted with widespread social unrest among non-Arab
subjects. One wave of unrest was further encouraged in
shu˓ūbīya (ethnic) groups by astrological predictions
hinting at the impending end of Arab domination
foreboded by planetary conjunctions. This was the
occasion for the consolatory Risāla f ī mulk al-˓arab
wa-kammiyatihi (On the Dominion of the Arabs and
its Extent) which al-Kindī wrote for the Caliph, a
consolatory Epistle in which he calculated that the
conjunctions of Saturn with Jupiter held forth a
total duration of 693 years for the Muslim Empire, which
meant at that time four more centuries of Arab rule,
whereas Abū Ma˓shar’s similar calculations in his Great
Conjunctions foresaw only 310 years or so for it.
The association of Judaism with Saturn is not present
in Māshā˒allāh’s scheme of astrological history, although
his interpretation of planetary conjunctions was extended
to Islam and in particular to the rule of the Caliphs. Yet
the status assigned to Judaic culture in the scheme of
planetary conjunctions of Arab astrology stirred echoes
in Jewish communities in Spain, inspiring their leaders
in astrological science to use the scheme of conjunc-
tions to confirm the unique “vocation” of Israel. This
endeavor is at the core of the Megillat ha-Megalle by
Abraham bar H.iyya of Barcelona. This book purports
to illustrate the fate of Israel in the cosmic framework
of universal history by referring to Holy Scriptures,
Rabbinic literature, and philosophy. Yet the entire last
chapter is devoted to the scheme of planetary con-
junctions and its significance for the fate of Israel,
confirming by “science” the data of sacred literature. The
enterprise ostensibly aimed to counteract the “scientific”
demoting of Judaic civilization to a lower historical role
by Arab astrological writers. Another Jewish astronomer
astrologer in Spain, Abraham ibn Ezra, also critiqued
the theory of planetary conjunctions.
The medieval Anglo-Irish scientific literature used
to include two versions of some work by Māshā˒allāh’
in the form of Chaucer’s Treatise on the Astrolabe, and
an Irish tract following closely the text published by
J. Heller in Nurnberg in 1549 under the title De
elementis et orbibus coelestibus. Since the publication
of Paul Kunitzsch’s thesis, however, which shifts
the authorship of the Latin source used by Chaucer
from Māshā˒allāh the Jewish astrologer from Iraq, to
Maslama, the eleventh century Arab astronomer from
Spain, it would appear that this part of Māshā˒allāh’s
claimed influence upon Western literary tradition must
be abandoned.

A compilation of Arab “authorities” in astrology
called Liber Novem Iudicum (Book of the Nine Judges)
included Māshā˒allāh as one of its principal authorities.
The compilation of the Nine Judges did much to carry
Māshā˒allāh’s astrological rules and reputation to the
four corners of medieval Europe.
See also: ▶al-Ma˒mūn, ▶al-Kindī, ▶Abū Ma˓shar,
▶Abraham bar H.iyya
References
Goldstein, B. The Book on Eclipses of Māshā˒allāh. Physis
6 (1964): 205–13.
Kunitzsch, P. On the Authenticity of the Treatise on the Com-
position and Use of the Astrolabe Ascribed to Messahalla.
Archives Internationales d’Histoire des Sciences 31 (1981):
42–62.
Pingree, D. The Astrological History of Māshā˒allāh. Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1971.
129–43.
---. Māshā˒allāh. Dictionary of Scientific Biography. Vol. IX.
Ed. Charles C. Gillispie. New York: Scribners, 1974.
159–62.
---. Māshā˒allāh: Some Sasanian and Syriac Sources. Essays
on Islamic Philosophy and Science. Ed. F. G. Hourani.
New York: 1975. 5–14.
Samsó, J. Mā˒shā˒allāh. Encyclopedia of Islam VI. Leiden:
Brill, 1991. 710–12.
Mathematical Texts in Egypt
A NNETTE I MHAUSEN
While there is only indirect evidence for mathematical
techniques in the Old Kingdom (2686–2160 BCE) and
the New Kingdom (1550–1069 BCE), we do have texts
detailing specific mathematical procedures from the
Middle Kingdom (2055–1650 BCE) and the Graeco
Roman Period (332 BCE – 395 CE).
Hieratic Mathematical Texts
The sources of the Middle Kingdom (the Rhind mathe-
matical papyrus was written in the 2nd Intermediate
Period, but states to be a copy of a Middle Kindgom
original) are (in order of their publication; for
respective editions see Collier and Quirke 2004 and
2006, Glanville 1927, Peet 1923a and 1923b, Schack-
Schackenburg 1900 and 1902 and Struve 1930; a
source book uniting photocopies and translations of
most sources is Clagett 1999, for colour photographs of
pRhind see Robins and Shute 1987):
– the Rhind mathematical papyrus (BM EA10057/58)
Mathematical texts in Egypt 1337
– the Lahun mathematical fragments (UC 32107A,
32114, 32118, 32134, 32159, 32162)
– the Berlin mathematical fragment 6619
– the Cairo Wooden Boards (CG 25368/8)
– the mathematical Leather Roll (BM EA10250)
– the Moscow mathematical papyrus (E4676)
They are all written in Hieratic (▶http://www.digitale-
gypt.ucl.ac.uk/writing/hieratic.html), a cursive form of
hieroglyphs. Most of the above listed sources were
bought on the antiquities market, so that their exact
provenance cannot be ascertained without doubt.
Exceptional in this respect are the Lahun mathematical
fragments, which were found between 1889 and 1899
by W.M.F Petrie during the excavation of Lahun, the
pyramid town of Senusret II (1877–1870) (▶http://
www.digitalegypt.ucl.ac.uk/lahun/index.html). Never-
theless the form and content of Egyptian mathematical
texts often allows us to determine their original context
with some certainty.
We can distinguish two types of mathematical texts
(and the individual sources listed above are compila-
tions of one or both types): problem (or procedure)
texts and table texts. Egyptian mathematical problem
texts begin by stating a mathematical problem and then
providing step-by-step instructions for its solution. We
can differentiate several sections of a mathematical
problem text.
1. Title, often in the form ‘tp n ir.t ...’ ‘method of
M
calculating...’ and highlighted by the use of red ink.
2. Announcement of the given data of the problem
often followed by an explicit question of asking
what shall be determined. The data are concrete
values.
3. Procedure to solve the problem. This is spelled out
via step-by-step instructions using the concrete data.
Each instruction usually comprises one arithmetic
operation (addition, subtraction, multiplication,
division, halving, doubling, etc). After each step
we find an intermediate result provided (for a
technical analysis of the procedures found in the
hieratic problem texts see Imhausen 2003a).
4. The indication of the solution, which usually equals
the result of the last step of the instruction.
5. Verification of the solution.
6. Working of some calculations indicated in the
instructions (for a recent discussion of some aspects
of Egyptian arithmetic see Collier and Quirke 2004:
85–86).
7. Sometimes a drawing, indicating the object and its
dimensions.
The problems teach basic mathematical techniques
(e.g., how to determine an unknown quantity from a
given manipulation of that quantity and its result
[‘a quantity, its 1/7 added to it becomes 19’]) as well
1338 Mathematical texts in Egypt
as applied mathematical problems, i.e., mathematical
problems with a practical background. Practical pro-
blems include for example calculating distributions of
rations, slopes of pyramids, work rates, exchanges of
bread and/or beer and volumes of granaries.
Thus it has been concluded that Egyptian problem
texts come from an educational background and were
used in training junior scribes in the mathematical
practices that they would need in their daily working
lives (Ritter 2000). This was confirmed by administra-
tive and economic papyri, which display the use of the
same mathematical techniques (Imhausen 2003b).
Table texts comprise mathematical information
in tabular format. They are often simply lists of
mathematical data. Tables include those for fraction
reckoning (most notably the 2/N table preserved at the
beginning of the Rhind mathematical papyrus and in the
Lahun fragment UC 32159), but also tables for the
conversion of different metrological systems. Note that
multiplication in hieratic texts was often carried out in
writing, which rendered multiplication tables for natural
numbers superfluous. For a description of Egyptian
tables (both hieratic and Demotic) see Fowler 1999:
268–276.
Demotic Mathematical Texts
The second group of Egyptian mathematical texts dates
from the Graeco Roman Period, i.e., a time when
several cultures (the native Egyptian culture and the
Greek and Roman cultures) coexisted in Egypt (for a
description of Demotic mathematics within this cultural
context see Cuomo 2001) and after Egypt had been
under Persian rule twice (525–404 BCE and 343–332
BCE). Presumably during this Persian occupation (or
earlier), Mesopotamian mathematical knowledge was
transmitted into Egypt (see Parker 1972: 5–6 and
Høyrup 2002: 405–406).
These are the extant sources consisting of several
papyri (in order of their publication; for their editions
see Parker 1959, 1972 and 1975):
Papyrus Griffith Institute I E.7
Papyrus Cairo JE 89127-30, 89137-43
Papyrus BM EA 10399
Papyrus BM EA 10520
Papyrus BM EA 10794
Papyrus Carlsberg 30
Papyrus Heidelberg 663
Ostraca, i.e., stone or pottery sherds were also used
as writing material (for a list of Demotic mathematical
ostraca see Ritter 2000 :134, note 27). It is likely that
further sources will be discovered, as collections of
Demotic papyri are being edited only now. Demotic
(▶http://www.digitalegypt.ucl.ac.uk/writing/demotic.html)
is the cursive penultimate stage of ancient Egyptian.
The Demotic mathematical papyri show some
similarities with their hieratic predecessors. Again,
there are problem (or procedure) texts and table texts,
and mathematical techniques are expressed rhetorically
using specific numerical examples. On the other hand,
there are distinct differences. At least within the extant
Demotic mathematical papyri, we find that calculations
of operations indicated in the procedures are no longer
carried out in writing within the texts. Moreover there
is a multiplication table within BM EA 10520, and the
instructions for performing a multiplication in the same
text are strikingly different from the Middle Egyptian
method. The types of problems also vary, including
some well-known Mesopotamian problems like that of
a pole leaning against a wall.
Historiography
Earlier historiography has operated on the now outdated
assumption that mathematical techniques exist and
develop independently from their social and cultural
context. These earlier studies focused mainly on the
similarities with modern mathematics, using modern
mathematical terminology and concepts to analyse
the mathematical papyri. In 1989, Jim Ritter made a
new beginning, setting new standards for the field
(including the knowledge of Egyptian language and
culture so the mathematical papyri can be studied in their
original form and context). For an English translation
see (Ritter 1995). A similar development has taken place
for Mesopotamian mathematics pioneered by Jens
Høyrup, Jim Ritter and Eleanor Robson. While older
secondary literature is not to be discarded, it should be
read carefully and the reader needs to keep in mind that
significant progress has been made in Egyptology as
well as in the History of Science (especially Gillings
1972 has to be read with this in mind) in the last 20 years.
See also: ▶Mathematics in Egypt, ▶Egyptian Mathe-
matical Leather Roll
References
Clagett, Marshall. Ancient Egyptian Science: A Source Book.
Vol III: Ancient Egyptian Mathematics. Philadelphia:
American Philosophical Society, 1999.
Collier, Mark and Stephen Quirke. The UCL Lahun Papyri:
Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical (BAR
International Series 1209). Oxford: Archaeopress, 2004.
Cuomo, Serafina. Ancient Mathematics. London and New
York: Routledge, 2001.
Fowler, David. The Mathematics of Plato's Academy: A New
Reconstruction. 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999.
Gillings, Richard J. Mathematics in the Time of the Pharaohs.
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1972.
Glanville, Stephen R. K. The Mathematical Leather Roll in
the British Museum. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 13
(1927): 232–39.

Høyrup, Jens. Lengths, Widths, Surfaces: A Portrait of Old
Babylonian Algebra and its Kin. New York: Springer,
2002.
Imhausen, Annette. Ägyptische Algorithmen. Eine Untersu-
chung zu den mittelägyptischen mathematischen Aufga-
bentexten (Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 65). Wiesbaden:
Harrassowitz, 2003a.
Imhausen, Annette Calculating the Daily Bread: Rations
in Theory and Practice. Historia Mathematica 30 (2003b):
3–16.
Parker, Richard A. A Demotic Mathematical Papyrus Frag-
ment. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 18 (1959): 275–79.
Parker, Richard A. Demotic Mathematical Papyri. Provi-
dence, R.I.: Brown University Press, 1972.
Parker, Richard A. A Mathematical Exercise – P. Dem.
Heidelberg 663. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 61
(1975): 189–96.
Peet, Thomas Eric. The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus. British
Museum 10057 and 10058. London: Hodder and Stought-
on, 1923a.
Peet, Thomas Eric. Arithmetics in the Middle Kingdom.
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 9 (1923b): 91–5.
Ritter, Jim. Chacun sa verité: les mathématiques en Égypte et
en Mésopotamie. Éléments d'histoire des sciences. Ed.
Michel Serres. Paris: Bordas, 1989. 39–61. (for an English
translation see Ritter 1995)
Ritter, Jim. Measure for Measure: Mathematics in Egypt and
Mesopotamia. A History of Scientific Thought: Elements
of a History of Science. Ed. Michel Serres. Oxford:
Blackwell, 1995. 44–72.
Ritter, Jim. Egyptian Mathematics. Mathematics Across
Cultures: The History of Non-Western Mathematics. Ed.
Helaine Selin. Dordrecht: Kluwer, 2000. 115–36.
Robins, Gay and Charles Shute. The Rhind Mathematical
Papyrus: An Ancient Egyptian Text. London: British
Museum Publications, 1987.
Schack-Schackenburg, Hans. Der Berliner Papyrus 6619
(mit 1 Tafel). Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache 38 (1900):
135–40.
Schack-Schackenburg, Hans. Das kleinere Fragment des
Berliner Papyrus 6619. Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache
40 (1902): 65–66.
Struve, Wasili W. Mathematischer Papyrus des staatlichen
Museums der schönen Künste in Moskau (Quellen und
Studien zur Geschichte der Mathematik, Astronomie und
Physik, Abteilung A: Quellen, Vol. 1). Berlin: Springer,
1930.
Mathematics
G EORGE G HEVERGHESE J OSEPH
A concise and meaningful definition of mathematics is
virtually impossible. Mathematics has developed into a
worldwide language with a particular kind of logical
structure. It contains a body of knowledge relating to
number and space, and prescribes a set of methods for
reaching conclusions about the physical world. Also, it
is an intellectual activity which calls for both intuition
Mathematics 1339
and imagination in deriving “proofs” and reaching
conclusions. Often it rewards the creator with a strong
sense of aesthetic satisfaction.
Mathematics initially arose from a need to count and
record numbers. As far as we know there has never
been a society without some form of counting or
tallying, i.e., matching a collection of objects with
some easily handled set of markers, whether it be
stones, knots, or inscriptions such as notches on wood
or bone. Also, it is precisely such an artifact that helps
us to locate the early beginnings of mathematics.
High in the mountains of Central Equatorial Africa,
on the borders of Uganda and Zaire, lies Lake Edward,
one of the furthest sources of the River Nile. Though
this area, Ishango, is remote and sparsely populated
today, about 20,000 years ago a small community lived
by the shores of the lake that fished, gathered food or
grew crops depending on the season of the year. The
settlement had a relatively short lifespan of a few
hundred years before being buried in a volcanic
eruption. Archeological excavations at Ishango un-
earthed a bone tool handle which is now on display
at the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle in Brussels. The
original bone may have petrified or undergone
chemical change through the action of water and other
elements. What remains is a dark brown object on
which some markings are clearly visible. At one end is
a sharp, firmly fixed piece of quartz which may have
been used for engraving, tattooing, or even writing of
M
some kind. Along the Ishango Bone, as it is now called,
is a series of notches arranged in three distinct columns:
first column contains four groups of notches with 9, 19,
21, and 11 markings; second column contains four
groups of 19, 17, 13, and 11 markings; and third
column has eight groups of notches in the following
order: 7, 5, 5, 10, 8, 4, 6, 3, with the last pair (6,3) being
spaced together, as are (8,4) and (5,5,10), suggesting a
deliberate arrangement in distinct subgroups.
Conjectures based on underlying numerical patterns
of the notches are well summed up by de Heinzelin,
the archeologist who helped to excavate the Ishango
Bone. The bone “may represent an arithmetical game
of some sort devised by a person who had a number
system based on ten as well as a knowledge of duplica-
tion (or multiplying by 2) and of prime numbers.”
Further, from the existing evidence of the Ishango
tools, notably harpoon heads, northward up to the
frontiers of Egypt, de Heinzelin supports the possibility
that the Ishango numeration system may have traveled
as far as Egypt to influence the development of its
number system, the earliest decimal-based system in
the world.
There is, however, another explanation which high-
lights a link that has played a crucial part in the
historical development of mathematics. The close link
between mathematics and astronomy has a long history
1340 Mathematics
and is tied up with the need for societies to record the
passage of time, both out of curiosity as well as
practical necessity. The alternative explanation is that
the bone markings constitute a system of sequential
notation – a record of different phases of the moon.
Whether this is a convincing explanation would depend
in part on establishing the importance of lunar
observations in the Ishango culture and in part on
how closely the series of notches on the bone matches
the number of days contained in the successive phases
of the moon. Marshak attempted to do both and
concluded that the Ishango Bone, with its markings of
different indentations, shapes, and sizes, was a lunar
calendar where the different types of engraving indicate
that it was also a calendar of events, probably of a
ceremonial or ritual nature. There is still a good deal of
controversy and interest around this bone.
One of the most ingenious methods of recording and
storing information before the emergence of the
computer is a quipu. The quipu (a Quechua word
from the language of the Incas of South America) is
an arrangement of colored wool or cotton cords
with clusters of knots tied in the cords to represent
numerical magnitude. In essence, it resembles a mop
which has seen better days. It was widely used as a
device for storing numerical and other information
before the Spanish conquest in an area which would
today include all of Peru, parts of Bolivia, Chile,
Ecuador, and Argentina. A vast amount of informa-
tion can be kept on a quipu using different colored
cords for summation between and within categories
and relative placement of the knots for indicating
different numerical magnitudes. A quipu has been
discovered which is a record of a census taken in 1587
of the Andean population of Lupaqa disaggregated by
province, ethnic groups, size, and age/sex distribution
of households, using cords of different thickness, color,
and configuration. Altogether 46 different items of
information were kept on this recording device no
larger than an ordinary kitchen mop.
For a highly centralized society such as the Inca, an
essential prerequisite for maintaining good order and
efficient organization was the existence of detailed and
up-to-date information (or government statistics, as we
would describe such information today). A whole
inventory of resources which included agricultural
produce, livestock, and weaponry – as well as people –
was maintained and updated by a group of specially
trained officials known as quipucamayus (quipu-
keepers). Each village under the rule of the Inca had
its own specially trained quipucamayu and certain
larger villages had as many as 30. One of the main tasks
of the quipucamayu was to devise efficient and
economical methods of storing information. The
more the quipucamayu considered the pattern of
distribution, taking account of the relative sizes and
positions of different cords, the better the logical
structure of the final representation. Cord placement,
color coding, and number representation were the basic
design features, repeated and recombined to define a
format and convey a logical structure. This search for a
coherent numerical/logical structure involves mathe-
matical thinking reminiscent of database management
in a modern computer and a study of spatial
configuration structures of different quipus is a good
introduction to a field of modern mathematics known
as “graph theory.”
It is possible to view the appearance of a written
number (or numeral) system as a culmination of
earlier developments. First was the recognition of the
distinction between more and less (a capacity we share
with certain other animals). From this developed first
simple counting, then the different methods of
recording the counts as tally marks, of which the
Ishango Bone is one example. This progression
continued with the emergence of more and more
complex means of recording information, culminating
in the construction of devices such as the quipu. Before
the appearance of such devices, there must have existed
an efficient system of spoken numbers founded on the
idea of a base to enable numbers to be arranged into
convenient groups.
There is ample historical and anthropological
evidence indicating that a variety of bases for counting
systems have been used over the ages and around the
world. The base of a counting system tells how
numbers are grouped and constructed. Our system, a
decimal or base-10 system, has words for numbers
from one to ten displaying no common root. Beyond
ten, the number words generally show a variation of the
unit word for the multiples of ten.
To illustrate, take the case of a few counting systems
with different bases chosen from round the world. For
an indigenous Australian group, the Gumulgal, count-
ing proceeds as urapon (1), ukasar (2), ukasar-urapon
(3), ukasar-ukasar (4), ukasar-ukasar-urapon (5),… to
indicate counting by twos (or a base-2 system). In a
Melanesian language, Sesake, counting proceeds as
sekai (1), dua (2), dolu (3), pati (4), lima (5), la-tesa
(6), la-dua (7),…,dua-lima (10),…,dua-lima-dua (20).
This suggests a base-5 counting system where words
for numbers six or seven use the roots for words one
and two; ten is literally two-fives and twenty is two-
fives twice. In a Micronesian language, Kiribati,
counting proceeds as tenuana (1), uoua (2), tenua
(3), aua (4), nimua (5), onoua (6), itiua (7), wanua (8),
ruainua (9), tebwina (10), tebwina-ma-tenuana (11),…,
vabui (20), vabui-ma-tenuana (21),…,tebubua (100),…,
tenga (1,000),…,tebina-tenga (10,000),…,tebubuna-
tenga (100,000). Here we have a straightforward
base-10 counting system. In Kiribiti, number words
also vary according to the object being counted. Thus

the number word for 9 is ruaman when counting
animals, ruakai when counting plants, ruai when
counting knives, ruakora when counting baskets, and
rauawa when counting boats. In certain other systems,
such as the Aztec number system, the choice of the
bases would depend on the type of objects being
counted. Cloths or tortillas would be counted in
twenties, while round objects such as eggs or oranges
would be counted in tens.
Counting by tens has been the most widespread
system probably because it is associated with the use of
fingers on both hands. The other scale (base-20) had its
most celebrated development as a written number
system during the first millennium of the present era
among the Maya of Central America. There have also
been other base-20 systems, of which the Yoruba
system from Nigeria and the Welsh system from Britain
are two well-known examples.
An unusual feature of the Yoruba system is its heavy
reliance on subtraction. The subtraction principle
operates in the following way. As in our number
system, there are different names for the number one
(okan) to ten (eewa), the numbers eleven (ookanla) to
fourteen (eerinla) are expressed as compound words
which may be translated into “one more than ten” to
“four more than ten.” But once fifteen (aarundinlogun)
is reached the convention changes, so that fifteen to
nineteen (ookandinlogun) are expressed as “twenty less
five” to “twenty less one,” respectively, where twenty is
known as oogun. Similarly, the numbers twenty-one to
twenty-four are expressed as additions to twenty, and
twenty-five to twenty-nine as deduction from thirty
(ogbon). At thirty-five (aarundinglogoji), however,
there is a change in the way the first multiple to twenty
is referred to: forty is expressed as “two twenties”
(ogoji) while higher multiples are named ogata (“three
twenties”), ogerin (“four twenties”), and so on to
“ten twenties,” for which a new word igba is used. It is
in the naming of some of the intermediate numbers that
the subtraction principle comes into its own. To take
a few examples, the following numbers are given
names which indicate the decomposition shown on
the right:
45 ¼ ð20  3Þ
10
5;
108 ¼ ð20  6Þ
10
2;
300 ¼ ð20Þ  ð20
5Þ;
318 ¼ 400
ð20  4Þ
2;
525 ¼ ð200  3Þ
ð20  4Þ þ 5:
All the numbers from 200 to 2,000 (except those that
can be directly related to 400 or iriniwa) are reckoned
as multiples of 200. From the name egebewa for 2,000,
compound names are constructed for number in excess
Mathematics 1341
of this figure, using subtraction and addition wherever
appropriate similar to the above examples.
The origin of this unusual counting system is
uncertain. One conjecture is that it grew out of the
widespread practice of using cowrie shells for counting
and computation. A description of the cowrie shell
counting procedure given by Mann in 1887 is interesting.
From a bag containing a large number of shells the
counter draws four lots of five to make twenty. Five
twenties are then combined to form a single pile of one
hundred. The merging of two piles of one hundred shells
gives the next important unit of Yoruba numeration, two
hundred. As a direct result of counting in fives, the
subtraction principle comes into operation. Take the
decomposition of 525, given earlier, as an illustration.
We begin with three piles of igba (200), remove four
smaller piles of oogun (20), and then add five (aarun)
cowrie shells to make up the necessary number.
This complicated system of numeration in which the
expression of certain numbers involves considerable
feats of arithmetical manipulation has certain advan-
tages for computation. As an example of a calculation
which exploits the strength of the Yoruba numeration to
the full, consider the multiplication: 19 × 17.
The cowrie calculator begins with twenty piles of
twenty shells each. From each pile, one shell is
removed (−20). Then three of the piles now containing
nineteen shells each are also removed. The three piles
are adjusted by taking two shells from one of them, and
M
adding one each to the other two piles to bring them
back to twenty (−20 × 2 − (20 − 3)). At the end of these
operations we have
400
20
ð20  2Þ
ð20
3Þ ¼ 323:
While the Yoruba system shows what is possible in
arithmetic without a written number system, it is clearly
impractical for more difficult multiplications.
However, there are other mechanical aids which are
more versatile, such as the Chinese or Japanese abacus
(soroban). In the speed of addition and subtraction, the
abacus still holds its own against the electronic
calculator. In a test problem consisting of: first, adding
a column of eleven numbers and then subtracting four
numbers from the result where there was no number of
less than three digits and most contained four or five
digits, a third-grade abacus operator in China or Japan
(i.e., an operator possessing the minimum level of
competence acceptable for employment in a bank or
similar institution) performed this computation in 30 s.
An operator using the calculator took 90 s. A first-
grade abacus operator would have been expected to
have finished the computation in 20 s. There is even the
well-attested claim of an expert operator taking less
than 15 s to add ten numbers each of ten digits!
1342 Mathematics
There are two modes of performing arithmetical
operations. The first arose in cultures which, either
because of scarcity of writing materials or because of the
limitation of their written number systems, resorted to
physical devices such cowrie shells or an abacus to carry
out multiplication. The second mode involves “paper-
and-pencil” methods of written numbers. The origins of
many of these paper-and-pencil algorithms are found in
parts of the non-Western world which gave birth to
different place value number systems: Babylonia during
the third millennium BCE, China around the third
century BCE, the Maya Empire around the beginning of
the Common Era, and in India a few centuries later. And
in the process of transmitting the Indian numerals
westward some of the efficient algorithms, initially
devised for these numerals, were lost.
To illustrate, consider multiplying 97 by 93. The
method favored today involves two sets of multiplica-
tion, one requiring the “9-times table,” then adding the
results of the two sets of multiplication on paper to get
the final answer: 90/21. Of course these days, one
would use an electronic calculator but feel rather lost if
the calculator was not readily at hand. But there is a
startling simple yet mathematically profound method
available from the distant past.
Take the problem: 97 × 93; 97 is 3 less than 100, 93
is 7 less than 100. Multiply the deficiencies 3 and 7 to
get 21. Subtract from 97 the deficiency corresponding
to the other number, 93, which is 7 or the other way
round. Both subtractions will give 90. The final answer
is the merging of the two parts: 90/21. This procedure
can be mathematically “productive” if one then
proceeds to answer the following “what ifs”:
. What if both numbers to be multiplied are just over
1,000?
. Both just under 1,000?
. One just over and one just under 1,000?
. Both just over or just under 100?
. Or one just over and one just under 100?
. What about numbers near 50?
. Or near 20?
. What if they are not both within the range of the
same base?
In all these cases, the procedures devised involve using
the principal strength of our number system – the place
value principle. An examination of why the method
works leads us quite naturally to the interconnection of
arithmetic, algebra, and geometry, and also a reminder
that algebra is but a generalization of arithmetic. A
method claimed to be as old as the Vedas (ca. 500
BCE), it is found in works of later Indian mathema-
ticians, notably Brahmagupta (ca. AD 600) and
Bhāskarāchārya (ca. AD 1100). It was known to the
Arabs through whom our number system, which began
in India, spread westward into Europe. Yet this method
was lost and what we have in place are rather
cumbersome procedures, some more suitable perhaps
for multiplication with number systems without place
value like the Roman numerals.
The rules devised by mathematicians for solving
problems about numbers of one kind or another may be
classified into three types. In the early stages of
mathematical development, these rules were expressed
verbally, and consisted of detailed instructions about
what was to be done to obtain a solution to a problem,
for which reasons this approach is referred to as
rhetorical algebra. In time, the prose form of rhetorical
algebra gave way to the use of abbreviations for
recurring quantities and operations, heralding the
appearance of syncopated algebra. Traces of such
algebra are to be found in the works of the Alexandrian
mathematician Diophantus (ca. AD 250), but it achieved
its fullest development in the work of Indian and Arab
mathematicians during the first millennium AD. During
the past 500 years symbolic algebra has developed so
that, with the aid of letters and signs of operation and
relation ðþ;
; ; =; ¼Þ, problems are stated in such
a form that the rules of solution may be applied
consistently and systematically. The transformation
from rhetorical to symbolic algebra has been a long
one and marks one of the most important advances in
mathematics. It had to await the development of a
positional number system (i.e., the Indian numerals)
which allowed numbers to be expressed concisely and
with which operations could be carried out efficiently.
As early as 1800 BCE, the Babylonians had
developed sophisticated methods of solving equations,
building on their invention of a positional number
system. A 4,000-year-old Babylonian clay tablet, now
kept in a Berlin museum, gives the value of n3 + n2 for
n = 1, 2,…,10, 20, 30, 40, 50, from which it is deduced
that the Babylonians may have used these values in
solving cubic equations after reducing them to the form
x3 + x2 = c. Linear and nonlinear equations in two and
three unknowns were also solved correctly within the
framework of a rhetorical algebra.
Early Indian algebra also contained solutions of
linear, simultaneous, and even indeterminate equations.
An example of an indeterminate equation in two
unknowns (x and y) is 3x + 4y = 50, which has a number
of positive whole-number solutions for (x, y). For
example x = 14, y = 2 satisfies the equation, as do the
solution sets (10,5), (6,8), and (2,11). But it is only
from AD 500 that there emerged a distinctive feature –
the use of symbols, such as a dot or the letters of the
alphabet, to denote unknown quantities. In fact it is this
very feature of algebra that one immediately associates
with the subject today. A general term in Indian algebra

for any unknown was yāvat tāvat, which was shortened
to the algebraic symbol yā, In Brahmagupta’s work,
Sanskrit letters appear, which are the abbreviations of
names of different colors which he used to represent
several unknown quantities. Thus the letter kā stood for
kālaka, meaning “black,” and the letter nū for nūlaka
meaning “blue.”
The word al-jabr appears frequently in Arab
mathematical texts that followed al-Khwārizmū’s
influential H . isāb al-jabr w’al-muqābala written in
the first half of the ninth century AD. There were two
meanings associated with al-jabr. The more common
one was “restoration” as applied to the operation of
adding equal terms to both sides of an equation, so as to
remove quantities, or to restore a quantity which
is subtracted from one side by adding it to the other.
Thus an operation on the equation 2x þ 5 ¼ 8
3x
which leads to 5x − 5 ¼ 8 would be an illustration of
al-jabr. There was also another, less common meaning:
multiplying both sides of an equation by a certain
number to eliminate fractions. Thus, if both sides of the
equation 9=4x þ 1=8 ¼ 3 þ 5=8x were multiplied by
8 to give the new equation 18x þ 1 ¼ 24 þ 5x, this too
would be an instance of al-jabr. The common meaning
of al-muqābala is the “reduction” of positive quantities
in an equation by subtracting equal quantities from both
sides. For the second equation above, applying
al-muqābala would give 18x
5x þ 1
1 ¼ 24
1
þ5x
5x or 13x = 23. The words al-jabr and
al-muqābala, linked by wa (and), came to be used for
any algebraic operation, and eventually for the subject
itself. Since the algebra of the time was almost wholly
confined to the solution of equations the phrase meant
exactly that.
Apart from giving the name to the subject, the great
contribution of the Arabs to algebra was to devise an
efficient system of classifying equations. Starting with
al-Khwārizmū, they reduced all equations to six main
types. For each type they offered solutions and when
possible a geometric rationale. Their work culminated
in ˓Umar al-Khāyyam’s geometric solution of the cubic
equation in the middle of the eleventh century AD.
The Arab work on equations is one illustration of their
ability to bring together two strands of mathematical
thinking – the geometric approach which had been
carefully cultivated by the Greeks and the algebraic/
algorithmic methods which had been used to such
effect by the Babylonians, Indians, and Chinese.
The development of Chinese algebra was a direct
result of their number system – the rod numeral system.
Apart from its notational facility, the rod numeral
system was helpful in suggesting new approaches to
algebraic problems, notably the use of a variant of the
modern matrix method for solving simultaneous
equations about 1,000 live hundred years before its
Mathematics 1343
so-called discovery in Europe and the “method of
double false” which constitutes an important algorithm
for solving higher order equations in the modern
subject of numerical analysis.
The Chinese work on solutions of numerical
equations of higher order has its origins in the method
of extracting square and cube roots found in their
premier text, Jiuzhang suanshu (Nine Chapters on the
Mathematical Arts), written around the beginning of
the Common Era. The combination of the root
extraction procedure with the use of what we know
as the Pascal triangle (although it was already known to
the Chinese about 500 years before the seventeenth-
century French mathematician, Pascal) meant that the
Chinese were solving equations of the ninth degree
(i.e., equations involving the term x9) around AD 1250,
using a variant of the Horner–Ruffini method which
only came into modern mathematics at the beginning of
the nineteenth century.
Any definition of the subject matter of mathematics
would include activities that relate to spatial config-
urations or geometry. There are two theories regarding
the origins of geometry. Herodotus, the Greek historian
who lived in the fifth century BCE, wrote that geometry
arose in ancient Egypt from the need to parcel out, in an
equitable fashion, precious agricultural land whose
boundaries were annually obliterated by the overflow
of the River Nile. The ideas of the Egyptian surveyors
(or “rope-stretchers”) were eventually passed on to the
M
Greeks who proceeded to build that most impressive
edifice known as “Greek geometry.” However, Egyp-
tian geometry had shown the way, for in the Moscow
Papyrus, an important source of Egyptian mathematics
from about 1850 BCE, the correct rule for calculating
the volume of a truncated pyramid appears.
An alternative explanation sees the origins of
geometry in religion and ritual. A good illustration
would be a class of ritual literature from ancient India,
known as the Śulbasūtras dealing with the measurement
and construction of various sacrificial altars. They also
happen to be the earliest text of Indian geometry dated
around 800–500 BCE. They provided instructions for
two types of rituals, one for worship at home and the
other for communal worship. Square and circular altars
were sufficient for household rituals while more
elaborate altars involved combinations of rectangles,
triangles, and trapezia for public worship. The geometry
of the Śulbasūtras grew out of the need to ensure strict
conformation of the orientation, shape, and area of
altars to the prescriptions laid down in the scriptures.
They include a general statement of the so-called
“Pythagorean theorem,” an approximation procedure
for obtaining the square root of 2 correct to five decimal
places and a number of accurate geometric constructions
including ones for “squaring the circle” (approximately)
1344 Mathematics
and constructing rectilinear shapes whose area was equal
to the sum or difference of areas of other shapes. The
earliest known demonstration of Pythagoras’ theorem
is found in an ancient Chinese text, Zhoubi suanjing, at
least 300 years before Pythagoras (ca. 500 BCE). Over
1,000 years before Pythagoras, the Babylonians knew
and used the result now known under his name.
To most of us geometry deals with lines, angles,
circles, and polygons. These are the central concepts
that appeared in the best-known text in geometry,
Euclid’s Elements (ca. 300 BCE). To these were
subsequently added subjects such as symmetry,
coordinates, vectors, and other curves. Many of these
concepts appear in different cultures in a variety of
contexts: in architecture, drawings, decorations, etc. Do
such examples constitute mathematics or can they at
best be used as no more than peripheral illustrations of
certain geometrical notions? In 1986, Paulus Gerdes
posed the following “nonstandard” problems to a
workshop of mathematics educators who had some
difficulty working them out, although artisans in
Mozambique, some of them illiterate, solved them as
a matter of course:
. Construct a circle given only its circumference: a
problem in laying out a circular floor for a traditional
Mozambican house.
. Construct angles that measure 90°, 60°, or 45° with
only strips of straw: a problem in basket weaving.
. Fold an equilateral triangle out of a square: a
problem in making a straw hat.
. Construct a regular hexagon out of straw: a problem
in making a fish trap.
Does solving these problems involve mathematical
thinking? It could be argued that the artisans who first
discovered the optimal solutions to these problems
were engaged in “creative” geometrical thinking. Mary
Harris has extended this argument to tasks which are
usually seen as women’s work.
Many of the male teachers are so unfamiliar with
the construction and shape and size of their own
garments that they cannot at first perceive that
all you need to make a sweater (apart from
technology and tools) is an understanding of ratio
and all you need to make a shirt is an understand-
ing of right-angled and parallel lines, the idea
of area, some symmetry, some optimisation, and
the ability to work from 2-dimensional plans to
3-dimensional forms … It is interesting to take
Gerdes’ analyses … and apply them … in the
different context of women’s culture.
All that is needed in many non-Western cultures is to
“defrost” the frozen mathematics of the cultures
contained in useful objects such as baskets, mats, pots,
houses, sand-drawings, sculptures, fish traps, etc.
There is, however, a major stumbling block: the wide
spread acceptance of the hegemony of a Western version
of mathematics, following from the assumption that
mathematics is largely a European creation. Two tactics
have been used to propagate this Eurocentric myth.
The first is Omission and Appropriation. Prior to the
“Renaissance,” European acknowledgment of the debt it
owed to Arab mathematics and its antecedents was
fulsome both in words and deeds. Indeed the course of
European cultural history and the history of European
thought are inseparably tied up with the activities of
Arab scholars during the Middle Ages and their seminal
contributions to mathematics, the natural sciences,
medicine, and philosophy. By the seventeenth century,
however, the perception concerning the origins of
mathematical knowledge had begun to change, due to
the workings of a number of forces. With the European
expansion in the American continents, the development
of the slave trade, and the imposition of colonial rule in
many parts of the world, the assumption of white
superiority became dominant over a wide range of social
and economic activities, including the writing of the
history of mathematics. Moreover, the rise of national-
ism in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Europe and the
consequent search for the roots of European civilization
led to an obsession with Greece and the myth of Greek
culture as the cradle of all knowledge and values. This
was despite ample evidence of significant mathematical
developments in Mesopotamia, Egypt, China, pre-
Columbian America, India, and the Arab world,
showing that Greek mathematics owed a significant
debt to most of these cultures. In recent years a grudging
recognition of the debt owed by Greece to earlier
civilizations and the important contribution of Arab
mathematicians has led to some revisions to a “purely”
Eurocentric trajectory of the historical development of
mathematics. But the modifications still ignore for the
most part the routes through which Hellenistic and
Arabic mathematics entered Europe and take little
account of the mathematical knowledge produced by
India, China, and other cultures. Even those texts which
include the Indian and Chinese mathematics often
confine their discussion to a single chapter which may
go under the misleading title of “Oriental” or “Eastern”
mathematics. That these cultures contributed to the
mainstream development of mathematics is rarely
recognized, and little consideration is given to the
mathematical research that is currently taking place in
these and other non-Western regions.
The second tactic is Exclusion by Definition. A
Eurocentric approach to the history of mathematics is
intimately connected with the dominant view of
mathematics as a sociohistorical practice and intellec-
tual activity. Despite the development of contrary trends
in the last two centuries, the standard textbook approach
sees mathematics as a deductive system, ideally

proceeding from axiomatic foundations and revealing,
by the “necessary” unfolding of its pure abstract forms,
the eternal/universal laws of the “Mind.”
The Indian and Chinese concepts of mathematics
were very different. Their aim was not to build an
imposing edifice on a few self-evident axioms, but to
validate a result by any method. Some of the most
impressive works in Indian and Chinese mathematics
(the summations of complex mathematical series, the
use of Pascal’s triangle in solutions of higher order
numerical equations, the derivations of infinite series,
and the “proofs” of the Pythagorean theorem) involve
the use of visual demonstrations that are not formulated
with reference to any formal deductive system. The
Indian view of the nature of mathematical objects, like
numbers, is also based on a framework developed by
Indian logicians and linguists which differs at the
foundational level from the set theory universe of
modern mathematics.
The view that mathematics is a system of axiomatic/
deductive truths inherited by the Greeks and enthroned
by Descartes has been traditionally accompanied by a
cluster of values that reflect the social context in which
it originated:
1. An idealist rejection of any practical, material(ist)
basis for mathematics: hence the tendency to view
mathematics as value-free and detached from social
and political concerns.
2. An elitist perspective that sees mathematical work
as the exclusive preserve of a pure, high-minded and
almost priestly caste, removed from mundane
preoccupations and operating in a superior intellec-
tual sphere.
Non-Western mathematical traditions have therefore
been dismissed on the grounds that they are dictated by
utilitarian considerations with little notion of rigor in
proof. Any attempt at excavation and restoration of non-
Western mathematics is a multifaceted task: confront
historical bias, question the social and political values
shaping the mathematics curriculum, and search for
different ways of knowing or establishing mathematical
truths found in various traditions.
See also: ▶Geometry, ▶Gou-gu Theorem, ▶Zhoubi
suanjing, ▶Śulbasūtras, ▶Liu Hui and the Jiuzhang
suanshu, ▶al-Khwārizmū, ▶˓Umar al-Khayyām,
▶Brahmagupta, ▶Bhāskara, ▶Abacus, ▶Quipu
References
Ascher, Marcia. Ethnomathematics: A Multicultural View of
Mathematical Ideas. Pacific Grove, California: Brooks/
Cole Publishing Co., 1991.
Mathematics communicating across culture and time 1345
Bishop, Alan. Western Mathematics: The Secret Weapon of
Cultural Imperialism. Race and Class 32.2 (1990): 51–65.
D’Ambrosio, Ubiritan. Ethnomathematics and Its Place in the
History and Pedagogy of Mathematics. For the Learning of
Mathematics 5.1 (1985): 44–8.
Gerdes, Paulus. How to Recognize Hidden Geometrical
Thinking: A Contribution to the Development of Anthro-
pological Mathematics. For the Learning of Mathematics
6.2 (1986): 10–7.
Harris, Mary. An Example of Traditional Women’s Work as a
Mathematical Resource. For the Learning of Mathematics
7.3 (1987): 26–8.
de Heinzelin, J. Ishango. Scientific American 102 (June
1962): 105–16.
Ifrah, George. From One to Zero: A Universal History of
Numbers. New York: Viking, 1985.
Joseph, George G. The Crest of the Peacock: Non-European
Roots of Mathematics. London: Penguin Books, 1993.
Marshack, A. The Roots of Civilisation. Mount Kisco, New
York: Moyer Bell, 1991.
Nelson, David, George G. Joseph, and Julian Williams.
Multicultural Mathematics. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1993.
Zaslavsky, Claudia. Africa Counts. New York: Lawrence Hill
Books, 1979.
Mathematics Communicating Across
Culture and Time
M
L EIGH N. W OOD
The truth is that history, as we commonly
conceive of it, is not what happened, but what
gets recorded and told. Most of what happens
escapes the telling because it is too common, too
repetitious to be worth recording…
The business of making accessible the richness
of the world we are in, of making dense and
substantial our ordinary, day-to-day living in a
place, is the real work of culture (Malouf
1998: 17).
Mathematics is a method for communicating ideas
between people about concepts such as numbers, space
and time. In any culture there is a common, structured
system for such communication, whether it be in
unwritten or written forms. These systems can form
bridges of communication across culture and across time.
So, what is communication? Crowley and Heyer
(1995: 7) describe communication as “… an exchange
of information and messages. It is a process. About
100,000 years ago our early ancestors communicated
through non-verbal gestures and an evolving system
of spoken language. As their world became more
complex, they needed more than just a shared
memory”… this led to “the development of media to
1346 Mathematics communicating across culture and time
store and retrieve the growing volume of information.”
Communication is about an exchange of information
and the techniques humans have developed to store and
retrieve that information. It is not necessary to have
writing, computer disks and so on: communication can
be verbal (oral traditions), non-verbal (gestures, quipu),
temporary (sand drawing) or more permanent (clay
tablet, woven cloth).
Communicating in or about the field of mathematics
involves taking part in mathematical discourse, wheth-
er by reading, writing, listening or speaking. Discourse
is a broader concept than language because it also
involves all the activities and practices that are used to
make meaning in a particular profession. The discourse
of mathematics includes all the ways that mathematics
is done: through language, textbooks, mathematicians
talking to each other and to a wider public, and through
popularisation and application of mathematical knowl-
edge (Wood and Perrett 1997).
Discourse does not see the terms language and
communication as synonymous, although it certainly
recognises language as a central resource for the
communication process. This view sees language as a
resource for making meanings within different situa-
tions (Halliday 1978; Kamp and Reyle 1993). Com-
munication is seen as a complex process within which
natural language supplies a major (but seldom the only)
resource for making specific meanings within the
framework of specific social practices or areas of
knowledge. Readers who wish to know more about the
complexities of natural language may consult texts
such as Finegan (2003).
When we speak of making meaning within different
areas of knowledge we are referring to different
discourse practices. The language used in mathematical
discourse is natural language but it is a language that
has evolved in specialised ways to deal with the
demands of expressing mathematical concepts. The
most striking difference between mathematical writing
and most other types of writing is the extensive use that
mathematics makes of symbols and numbers. These are
sometimes seen as alternatives to natural language,
alternatives that mathematicians value as being more
precise and more elegant than natural language.
However the symbolic language of mathematics is an
extension of natural language as much as a replacement
for it, just as a pile of cowrie shells or a gesture can
represent a number word. Natural language is used to
complement the symbolic language of mathematics
when mathematicians talk and write to each other and it
has to replace the symbolic language when mathema-
ticians communicate with non-mathematicians. Thus
we would argue that natural language plays an essential
part in doing mathematics.
All cultures are mathematised, in that people within
any culture use ideas of mathematics in their everyday
life. For this I will take a wide definition of
mathematics to include concepts of number, space,
chance, and time. A report of the Australian Academy
of Sciences Mathematical Sciences: Adding to Aus-
tralia (1996: ix) gives this description of modern
mathematics:
Mathematics is the study of measurements, forms,
patterns, variability and change. It evolved from
our efforts to understand the natural world…
Over the course of time, the mathematical sciences
have developed a rich and intrinsic culture that
feeds back into the natural sciences and technolo-
gy, often in unexpected ways. The mathematical
sciences now reach far beyond the physical
sciences and engineering; they reach into medi-
cine, commerce, industry, the life sciences, the
social sciences and to every other application that
needs quantitative analysis.
This description takes mathematics back to its roots.
Mathematics has been part of all societies, a part of
every profession as well as being used in everyday
life. Western mathematics became narrower with
the insistence that only deductive mathematics from
a set of axioms, following the Greek tradition, was
real mathematics. The broader view of mathematics,
especially with the consideration of computing,
validates the work of non-European mathematicians.
A majority of mathematicians today are working
much closer to the way that Indian, Chinese and
Arab mathematicians worked, as they focus on real
applications and better computing algorithms
(Horgan 1993).
Culture too can be viewed broadly. Asher (1991: 2)
says “In any culture people share a language; a place;
traditions; and ways of organising, interpreting, con-
ceptualising and giving meaning to their physical and
social worlds.” David Malouf (1998: 17) describes the
process of acculturation as, “The business of making
accessible the richness of the world we are in, of
making dense and substantial our ordinary, day-to-day
living in a place, is the real work of culture.” The
description of mathematics above states that “The
mathematical sciences have developed a rich and
intrinsic culture”.
Mathematics has often worked on many levels, as
part of everyday culture and also as used by subgroups
within the main culture. In the Inca culture only a small
group would have been able to construct and interpret
the quipus (knotted cords used by the Inca to convey
data, Asher 1991). In the Babylonian culture of
3000 BCE few people would have been skilled in the
algebraic and computational techniques required for
commerce, as is evidenced by the many clay tablets
which can be interpreted as instructional textbooks. In
 Mathematics communicating across culture and time 1347

Egypt, the Ahmes papyrus consists of instructional
material for a mathematical subculture that would
calculate the land areas after the annual floods and
document commercial transactions. Indeed in many
cultures, the mathematics of calendars and astronomy
was in the hands of the priestly classes.
The mathematical subcultures communicated their
knowledge to future mathematicians in a similar way to
classes or apprentices today. Students worked through
sets of paradigm problems designed to develop the
calculating skills, ideas and language necessary for
their future careers. Some of the ways that mathematics
has been taught is remarkably similar across the
cultures and centuries. The drill and practice examples
on the Ahmes papyrus and some Babylonian clay
tablets are close to the way mathematics is taught in
many classrooms today (Fowler and Robson 1998:
369). Teachers wrote commentaries and extensions
from previous texts. They improved algorithms and
compared methods. Høyrup (1994) concluded that
mathematics as a discipline began to be systematically
organised with the need to teach it to professional
scribes in about 3000 BCE.
Communication Without Written Language
We will examine some examples of mathematical
discourse in cultures with no written language. We are
dealing with speaking and listening, but also with art,
artefacts and gesture. It is possible to consider the quipu
(Asher 1991) for example, as a “written” number
system, but for this essay I do not wish to include such
artefacts as written language.
How were mathematics and mathematical ideas
communicated within cultures without writing? Here
we make the assumption that cultures that do not have
written language (95% of cultures, Asher 1991: 2)
communicate mathematics by methods that have been
documented by outside observers. The reliability of the
documentation varies greatly with the biases and the
mathematical knowledge of the observer. These snap-
shots can nonetheless help to extrapolate back into
history for cultures that have lived in isolation for some
time. For example the counting system of the
Gomileroi in South-Eastern Australia (Table 1) has
been documented and I suggest that this number system
has been in situ for thousands of years prior to the
arrival of Europeans in Australia in 1788. Similarly the
counting systems in Papua New Guinea, documented
by Glendon Lean (summarised in Phythian 1997),
would have been used for centuries before the arrival
of Europeans and European mathematics. Richard
Pankhurst (as cited in Zaslavsky 1973: 89) has made
an extensive study of the measures, weights and values
in use among the various Ethiopian peoples throughout
their history.
Between the years 1968 and 1988, Lean collected
and recorded data on the counting systems of Papua
New Guinea and Oceania. There are 1,200 languages in
the region and Lean collected data on nearly 900. He
also discussed how the number systems were commu-
nicated through migration, wars and marriage. As these
M
languages are not written, he made use of diagrams to
show gesture counting and used phonetics to write
down number words. His awareness of mathematics
has meant that he was conscious of the 2, 5, 10 and

Mathematics Communicating Across Culture and Time. Table 1 Gomileroi counting system (as quoted in Petocz et al.
1992: 164 after consultation with elders)

Gomileroi words English translation

mal Finger 1
bular Two fingers 2
guliba Three fingers 3
bularbular Two fingers and two fingers 4
mulanbu Belonging to one hand 5
malmulanbu mummi One finger and one hand added on 6
bularmulanbu mummi Two fingers and one hand added on 7
gulibamulanbu mummi Three fingers and one hand added on 8
bularbularmulanbu mummi Two and two fingers and one hand added on 9
bulariu murra Belonging to two hands 10
maldinna mummi One toe added (to two hands) 11
bulardinna mummi Two toes added on 12
gulibadinna mummi Three toes added on 13
bularbulardinna mummi Two and two toes added on 14
mulanbudinna mummi One foot added on 15
maldinna mulanbu One toe and a foot added on 16

More examples and teaching materials can be found at ▶http://www.science.uts.edu.au/msc/AborCount.pdf.

1348 Mathematics communicating across culture and time
20 cycles that occur in counting systems and gathered
enough data to be able to classify each system. From
his study, Lean concluded that the counting and tally
systems in Papua New Guinea could have covered a
period of thousands of years. Due to the fact that many
neighbouring languages have few number words in
common, he concludes that there has been little contact.
An extreme example of this is two languages Baruya
(6,000 speakers) and Yagwoia (5,000 speakers).
Baruya is spoken by people who live north of
Marawaka in the Eastern Highlands and Yagwoia is
spoken to the south. Table 2 gives a few examples of
differences (Phythian 1997). Should these two groups
meet, they would need to have a good gesture system or
concrete materials to come to a mathematical under-
standing, despite living next to each other. The work of
Glendon Lean is collected and available at ▶www.uog.
ac.pg/glec/index.htm.
The detailed work in Papua New Guinea contrasts
with the work of linguists in the 1800s who recorded
Tasmanian aboriginal languages before they (the
aboriginals and the languages) died out. Perhaps due
to a lack of mathematical awareness they did not record
details of the counting systems. Some words for
numbers are recorded but not in a systematic fashion.
For example, one Tasmanian aboriginal group use the
word karde for 5 and karde karde for 10 (Roth 1899:
Appendix B, xi, xvii) but only a few other numbers are
recorded. So we have a tantalising suggestion of a base
five systems but insufficient evidence to come to a
conclusion. This lack of evidence for numbers contrasts
with the detailed coverage of words for the male and
female genital areas (Roth 1899). I think we can make
some conjectures about these Victorian scientists and
their cultural proclivities.
In Hidden in Plain View, Jacqueline Tobin (1999)
records the oral history of several African American
quilt makers. They described the meanings and detailed
communication that could be passed on by the
combination of colours, beads and knots. They could
give routes, times, maps and instructions all through
Mathematics Communicating Across Culture and Time.
Table 2 Examples of Baruya and Yagwoia numbers
(Phythian 1997: 66)
Baruya Yagwoia
da- ̀ ungwonangi
da-waai huwlaqu
da-waai-da huwlaqungwa
da-waai da-waai hyaqu-hyaqu
at-i hwolyem pu
at-iraai hwolye kaplaqu
quilting. Thus they passed on their African history and
made plans to escape from slavery, all under the noses
of their masters. The following quote (Tobin 1999: 78)
discusses the lukasa, the memory boards of the Central
African Luba people.
The use of stitches and knots, as a kind of Morse
code in thread, along with fabric colour and quilt
patterns, made it possible to design a visual
language.
The lukasa, or memory board is a mnemonic
device used by the highest level of the Luba royal
association. The lusaka contains secret mythical,
historical, genealogical and medical knowledge.
Beads on the front…Engraved geometric patterns
on the back…All these serve to recall aspects of
Luba history.
There are mathematical implications. The quilts are like
computer programs displaying information graphically
and can be read by those who understand the code.
Fortunately the code in this case has been recorded. It is
an example of how mathematical (and other) ideas can
be hidden in plain view.
Aboriginal art is another area where mathematics has
been overlooked by Western eyes. Michael Cooke
(1991) spent 10 years in the Yolngu community in
northern Australia and his principal sources were
Yolngu teachers. He acknowledges that by taking
some of the Yolngu world and fitting it with a Western
idea of mathematics, he has lost the full significance of
the meanings and some of the intricacy of the Yolngu
world. His paper covers many mathematical aspects
including how kinship relationships are depicted in
song and painting (Cooke 1991: 38).
For the Yolngu artist, painting is a means of
schematising Yolngu world order in a way parallel
to the Western mathematical theorist who con-
structs graphs and diagrams. Just as the Western
mathematician seeks elegance, symmetry and
aesthetic satisfaction in such work, so does the
Yolngu artist. Both rely on extensive use of
systems of symbolic representation in their
abstract modelling of order…
For the Yolngu it is the system of song cycles
which provides the theoretical basis and rationale
for the Yolngu system of order and relationship.
1 There are many other examples of mathematical
2 discourse in cultures without a written language:
3 . Finger reckoning. Hand signals for numbers and
4 number operations are used in many cultures. Exam-
5
ples in Africa are given in Zaslavsky (1973: 239–253)
10
and for Papua New Guinea in Phythian (1997).
 Mathematics communicating across culture and time 1349

. Weaving or patterns. Northern Australian aborigi- though writers, such as Rashīd al Dīn (1971 translation)
nals use painting to illustrate kinship patterns (Cooke in thirteen century Persia went to great lengths to
1991; Harris 1987; Harris 1991). increase the probability that his work would not be lost.
. Cowrie shells for currency. Again there are many He made two complete copies of each work; each was
examples in Zaslavsky 1973. translated into Persian and Arabic. Only the best quality
. Knotting, quipu of the Incas. Much has been written paper and only scribes with the best handwriting were
on the quipu (such as Asher 1991: 16–27; Smith used. Even so, not all of his works exist today, but those
1925: 196; Joseph 2000: 28–37) and it remains an that do give an insight into the mathematics in the lives
important example of how mathematics and mathe- of everyday people of that era. New materials, such as a
matical ideas can be communicated effectively letter of al-Kāshī on scientific life in Samarkand,
without a written language or number system. described and translated in Bagheri (1997), are being
. Classification. For example, Yolngu Aboriginal added to our collection of records of mathematics.
culture divides the world into two parts, Yirritja Translations, for example al Dīn (1971) make original
and Dhuwa (Cooke 1991). works accessible to readers who are unable to read
ancient languages.
All these cultures communicated mathematical ideas
Significant communication of mathematical ideas
without written language. Some of the ideas would
and techniques occurred between cultures in the past.
have been accessible to all people within the culture,
An example of how commentaries and improved
such as the counting systems in Papua New Guinea,
algorithms occurred between Arabic and Indian math-
and some of the ideas would be restricted to a
ematicians is explained in Rashed (1994: 143–148) who
privileged group, such as the quipu makers in South
showed that al-Bīrūnī (tenth century AD) was aware of
America.
Making meaning from artefacts left to us presents a
difficult task. What meaning can a modern observer
make of the Tasmanian Aboriginal rock carvings in
Figs. 1 and 2? Is this a number system, a pattern of
moon phases, a written language? Even the arrange-
ment by the modern artist may influence our ideas. We
are using our western-trained minds to classify and M
order the images to fit with our concepts of logic and
pattern. Unfortunately there are no Rosetta stones or
living speakers to assist with translation.

Cultures with Written Language

Making meaning from history involves examining the
discourse of cultures from the information that is
recorded and passed on. Written forms of mathematical
discourse have largely formed the basis of modern
mathematics: thus mathematical ideas have commu-
nicated across time. However, even with written
records there are hazards to successful communication. Mathematics Communicating Across Culture and Time.
It is in part good management and mostly luck that Fig. 2 Tasmanian Aboriginal rock carvings in situ (Clark
written materials are available to modern readers, even 1986: 33).

Mathematics Communicating Across Culture and Time. Fig. 1 Symbols used in Tasmanian Aboriginal art (Clark
1986: 32).
1350 Mathematics communicating across culture and time
Brahmagupta’s methods of quadratic interpolation, used
for trigonometry and astronomy.
However, as David Malouf (1988) states, much of
what really happened is not recorded, and therefore must
be inferred in the same way as for cultures with non-
written languages. The information that is recorded is
filtered through the eyes of the observer, who has his or
her own cultural prejudices. Such cultural prejudices
have caused criticism of non-European mathematics, in
particular with the idea of proof. Modern mathemati-
cians are in considerable conflict about the status and
usefulness of proof (Horgan 1993) but some commen-
tators feel free to criticise other cultures for not fitting
within their own narrow definition.
Much has been made of the Greek concept of proof
as the basis of modern mathematics to the extent that
many writers (for example Kline 1972: 190, quoted in
Joseph 1994: 194) have disparaged the Indians for their
supposed haphazard ideas of proof. But as Joseph
(1994) demonstrates, Indian mathematics does prove
theorems though not in the same way as Greek
deductions from axioms – in fact the Indian demon-
strations are very similar to the way proofs are
presented to students studying secondary and early
tertiary mathematics. A broader idea of proof, such as
that advocated by Mason et al. (1985) amongst others
would include the demonstrations of Indian and
Chinese mathematicians.
Another reason for miscommunication is error of
interpretation. We mainly rely on translations of ancient
texts. Translations are open to interpretation, com-
pounded by time and cultural differences. Added to this,
many translators are not mathematicians and so may miss
subtle points which may be critical mathematically. This
is not a criticism of translators but a criticism of com-
mentators who do not take these difficulties into account
when interpreting discourse over time and culture.
The mistranslation of one word can have critical
effects. For example, the mistranslation of the word
asanna in the translation of an Indian text has led to
considerable misrepresentation of Indian mathematics.
In verse 10 of the section entitled Ganitapāda from
Āryabhata’s Āryabhatīya (AD 499) appears the follow-
ing: “100 plus 4, multiplied by 8, and added to 62,000:
this will be the ‘asanna’ value of the circumference of
a circle of diameter 2000.” The Sanskrit word asanna
has been translated as approximate, inexact, rough,
crude and so on. On the basis of this translation, some
Western historians of mathematics have concluded that
Indian mathematicians did not realise the irrational
nature of π.
George Gheverghese Joseph believes that the word
asanna has a more fruitful meaning. It incorporates two
different meanings that overlap with one another:
“inexact” and “unattainable”. The second meaning
which is closer to the idea of irrationality is what
Joseph thinks Āryabhata had in mind, and it was an
extremely creative concept that gave the motivation to
Kerala mathematicians to work on infinite series
(Joseph, personal communication).
Reza Hatami, an Arab-speaking scholar working
in Sweden, has translated sections of the work of
al-Khwārizmī and ˓Umar Khayyām and has found
similar difficulties with some of the standard English
and Swedish translations (Hatami 1999).
Many translations are written in the modern dis-
course of mathematics and include use of symbols and
algebra. The clarity of the symbolism in use today can
cause us to underestimate the difficulties that mathe-
maticians faced in the past. There is a good example of a
theorem from Cardano (1545) that shows how mathe-
matical writing has changed in the last 400 years. A
comparison of this theorem with its modern equivalent
shows how useful symbolic notation can be, and also
illustrates the relationship of such notation to ordinary
language (Smith 1997: 6). Cardano’s intention was to
provide a solution to the equation x3 þ mx ¼ n, where
m and n were implicitly assumed to be positive.
However, even the statement of the theorem was
different to modern language. Renaissance Italians
referred to this equation as a cube plus a first power
equal to a number. Cardano gave the solution as:
Cube one-third of the coefficient of the unknown;
add to it the square of one half the constant of the
equation; and take the square root of the whole.
You will duplicate this, and to one of the two you
add one half the number you have already squared
and from the other you subtract one half the same.
Then, subtracting the cube root of the first from
the cube root of the second, the remainder which
is left is the value of the unknown.
Today we would write something like the following:
Theorem. A solution of the equation x3 þ mx ¼ n is
given by
sffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
rffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi sffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
rffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi
3 n n2 m 3 3 n n2 m3
x¼ þ þ

þ þ :
2 4 27 2 4 27
These examples show some of the difficulties of
interpreting works from other cultures and times. The
observer brings his or her knowledge and culture into
the equation. I take issue with commentators, such as
Kline (1980: 111), who make strident assertions about
the mathematics of another culture.
It is fairly certain that the Hindus did not
appreciate the significance of their own contribu-
tion. The few good ideas they had, such as
separate symbols for the numbers 1–9, the
conversion from positional notation in base 60
to base 10, negative numbers, and the recognition

of 0 as a number, were introduced casually with
no apparent realisation that they were valuable
innovations. They were not sensitive to mathe-
matical values.
This is based on flimsy evidence and a very narrow
view of mathematics. Notice the use of “mathematical
values”. Whose values? It may be that future
commentators claim that strictly holding to the Greek
view of deductive proof has seriously curtailed the
mathematics of the twentieth century.
A Tenuous Link
This art originated with Mahomet the son of Moses
the Arab (al-Khowarizmi). Leonardo of Pisa
(Fibonacci) is a trustworthy source for this statement
(Cardano 1545, translation Whitmer 1968).
This is a lovely example of communication. Cardano
has acknowledged the originator of his work, al-
Khwārizmī, and the conduit of this knowledge,
Leonardo Fibonacci.
The work of al-Khwārizmī (ca. 780–ca. 850), through
the channel of Liber abaci (1202) by Leonardo
Fibonacci became well known in Europe and became
the basis of Cardano’s work in 1545. This is just one
example of how European mathematics was influenced
by Arab mathematics, but it also shows how the
European mathematicians readily acknowledged the
prior work of non-European mathematicians.
Leonardo Fibonacci made considerable contri-
butions to mathematics himself, notably in solving
cubic equations, but it is his 1202 Liber abaci that
was the most influential. Fibonacci travelled widely
through Egypt, Syria, Sicily and Greece and came
into contact with Arabic mathematics. He was con-
vinced that the Indian–Arabic numerals and methods of
calculation were vastly superior to the current methods
in Italy (Eves 1983). Liber abaci can be considered
the main reason why Indian–Arabic numerals and the
achievements of Arabic mathematicians spread through
Europe by the start of the Renaissance. How much
would Cardano and others have achieved without
al-Khwārizmī and Indian–Arabic numerals?
Making Meaning
Making meaning from the sources available to us
leaves most unsaid and unwritten. Many of the ordinary
day-to-day practices of mathematics are not recorded.
The mathematical contributions of women, artisans and
many workers are not represented. Many records have
been lost. Of those discovered, there are risks of
mistranslation, misinterpretation, or, in the case of the
Tasmanian Aboriginal rock carvings, no basis for
interpretation.
Mathematics communicating across culture and time 1351
It is reasonable to expect difficulties with communi-
cation across time and cultures. Even within the same
culture, recorders and observers often disagree. How-
ever there have been triumphs of communication across
time and culture – Fibonacci’s Liber abaci brought the
ideas of algebra and Indian–Arabic numerals to Europe
giving an excellent starting point for the work of
Cardano and others.
Fibonacci displayed what many commentators have
not: he displayed an open mind. Fibonacci was open to
the work of other cultures and actively disseminated
their ideas. Glendon Lean and Richard Parkhurst are
more modern observers who have shown cultural
sensitivity as well as keen mathematical knowledge.
As Zeilberger (1993) stated during a lively debate in
the American Mathematical Society,
Although there will always be a small group of
“rigorous” old-style mathematicians… who will
insist that the true religion is theirs and that the
computer is a false Messiah, they may be viewed
by future mainstream mathematicians as a fringe
sect of harmless eccentrics…
Mathematics itself is not one culture with one
discourse. The dominant paradigm in Western mathe-
matics is shifting from Greek deductive proof to a more
experimental and applied mathematics and with this
comes a new discourse. A reappraisal of the contribu-
tions of non-European mathematics under the new M
paradigm will see a better valuing of their mathematical
achievements and consequent changes in forms of
mathematical discourse.
Let us look forward to a time when we can appreciate
the mathematics of all cultures and the contribution
of mathematical ideas to the “business of making
accessible the richness of the world we are in, of
making dense and substantial our ordinary, day-to-day
living in a place – the real work of culture”.
See also: ▶Quipu, ▶Mathematics of Australian
Aboriginals
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Mathematics, Practical
and Recreational
J ENS H ØYRUP
The geographical distribution of so-called “recrea-
tional” mathematical problems does not respect ideas
about distinct mathematical cultures. The familiar con-
clusion is that they reflect “age-old cultural relations
between Eastern and Western civilizations” (Hermelink
1978). This inference is indubitably true but does not
exhaust the matter. The reasons that these kinds of
problems reflect relations between civilizations that are
less visible in other mathematical sources are infor-
mative, both regarding the conditions and nature of
mathematical activity in different civilizations and
about the sense (or nonsense) of the concept of distinct
mathematical cultures.
“Recreational problems” are pure in the sense that
they do not deal with real applications, however much
they speak in the idiom of everyday (some examples
will be cited later). Nonetheless, their social basis is
in the world of know-how, not that of know-why
(the world of “productive,” not that of “theoretical”
knowledge, in Aristotle’s terminology). The distinction
between these two orientations of knowledge is of
general validity but has particular implications for
mathematics.
Beyond this distinction between orientations, it is
also useful to distinguish two main ways in which
“productive knowledge” can be transmitted. One is
through master-apprentice networks and on-the-job
training. This type of knowledge, whose results may be
labeled “subscientific,” is explained later. The other is
through institutionalized schools, where training is
separated from actual practice and taken care of by
teachers whose own connection to the practice for
which they prepare is reduced; the outcome may be
labeled “scholasticized knowledge.”
It is important not to identify practitioners’ knowl-
edge (whether subscientific or scholasticized) with

practical knowledge alone. The difference has to do
precisely with the influence of the social systems which
carry the knowledge in question.
The larger part of the practitioners’ fund of
knowledge is evidently applicable in practice, at least
according to the convictions of the social totality
within which they function (whether we regard the
knowledge of seventeenth century physicians as
medically useless is irrelevant to the seventeenth
century existence and prestige of their profession). As
far as this part is concerned, problems – the problems
which the craft or profession is supposed to confront –
are fundamental, and appropriate techniques have
been developed which allow it to deal with these
problems. But the training of future practitioners, even
when done on the job, will have to start from simpler
tasks than those taken care of by the master, in part
from tasks which have been prepared with the special
purpose of training the techniques which the appren-
tice should learn but which have no direct practical
relevance. Here, techniques and methods are by
necessity primary, and problems are secondary, derived
from the techniques which are to be trained. Anybody
familiar with schoolbooks on arithmetic will recog-
nize the situation, and scholasticized systems are
indeed those where problems constructed for training
purposes dominate. Apprenticeship-based systems, for
their part, tend to train as much as possible on real,
albeit simple tasks.
Scholasticized systems often make some use of
recreational problems as a means to create variation.
However, the genuine basis for the invention and spread
of these problems – problems that distort everyday
settings so as to create a striking or even absurd situa-
tion – is what we can call the subscientific knowl-
edge system. This system is oral in character, while
scholasticized systems have always been geared to
writing. Recreational problems are riddles for specia-
lists, sharing with other riddles that eristic (given to
dispute or argument) character which distinguishes oral
cultures in general. Often, when they enter written
problem collections or manuals, they contain phrases
like “if you are an accomplished calculator, tell me…” –
or they are presented as a way to impress the
nonspecialists who do not understand. In the premodern
world, this type of knowledge was neither “folk” nor
“popular,” but a possession of the few to a significantly
higher degree than scientific knowledge today.
Phrases of this kind indicate how we are to understand
the function of the “recreational” problems, which were
not primarily recreational (whence the quotes) – no
more recreational, indeed, than the potentially lethal
riddle of the sphinx. They served as a means to display
virtuosity, and thus, on one hand, to demonstrate
the status of the profession as a whole as consisting of
expert specialist, and, on the other, to let the single
Mathematics, practical and recreational 1353
members of the profession stand out, and discover
themselves, as accomplished calculators, surveyors, etc.
This function puts some constraints on the problems,
which explains their character. They must arouse
immediate interest, which explains the “recreational
surface”: if a camel is to transport grain from one place to
another, being able to carry only one third of the grain in
one turn, and seems as a consequence to devour exactly
everything in the process, then the expert solution
allowing a net transfer is impressive. A less striking
formulation might provoke the reaction “so what?” The
problems, furthermore, must appear to belong to the
domain of the profession – skill in singing does not
enhance the professional prestige of an accountant, since
it does not demonstrate professional valor; according to
their form, the problems have to be practical. But they
must also be more difficult than the tasks that any
average bungler in the profession performs without
difficulty. This, together with the quest for the striking or
absurd, is the reason that the problems are pure in
substance, i.e., separated from real practice – and more
truly so than the simplified problems of school teaching.
Like school problems, however, recreational pro-
blems are determined from methods, namely from the
characteristic methods of the profession. Often they
come from a peculiar trick (in the case of the camel, an
intermediate stop and return) that will be known within
the subculture of the profession but not outside.
Such tricks will often not be generalizable; more-
M
over, as several mathematicians from the Islamic
Middle Ages tell, the practitioners using them would
often be ignorant of why their tricks worked. The
purpose of posing and solving the problems is not to
provide insight but to show off. The pure level of
knowledge is thus neither a direct nor an indirect
underpinning of practice, nor is it a critical reflection on
the principles underlying practice. In this respect, it
differs fundamentally from what Aristotle and al-Fārābī
would speak of as theoretical knowledge and from what
we call scientific knowledge.
But there is another point in the term “subscientific”,
namely that all levels of the subscientific knowledge
system, the pure or recreational no less than the applied,
have served as inspiration in the development of
scientific mathematics. This process can be followed
in the Greco-Islamic area (and its European offspring),
in India, and in China; Japanese wasan may even offer
an instance of direct transformation of a subscientific
into a scientific system.
In the Greco-Islamic-premodern-European area (the
most sensible delimitation of “Western” culture if
the long historical run is considered), in contrast, the
theoretical knowledge system may have been socially
segregated from the subscientific systems to an extent
which in other cultural areas was reserved for different
domains, as courtly music in Japan, or poetry as bound
1354 Mathematics, practical and recreational
up with the writing system in China. While the
distinction between different orientations of knowledge
systems and the effect of scholastization versus
apprenticeship learning hold in general, the social
segregation and the high social prestige falling to
philosophical and scientific knowledge in this broadly
defined Western culture have tended to make the rupture
between scientific and practitioners’ mathematics
more visible than elsewhere and to hide the whole sub-
scientific complex from view. Another reason for its
invisibility in the contemporary European orbit is
evidently that the originally autonomous subscientific
traditions were displaced from the late Renaissance
onwards by methods that were ultimately derived from
scientific mathematics. Increasingly since the late
nineteenth century, this process has occurred globally.
Few sources survive that tell how practical computa-
tion was performed in former times, in particular by
practitioners not trained from school books. Moreover,
most practical computations and geometrical construc-
tions have relied on such simple techniques that
questions of diffusion versus independent invention
cannot be decided; this simplicity is precisely the reason
that they could not serve as a basis for professional self-
esteem. Even “wrong” formulae can be so intuitively
near at hand that independent invention demonstrably
happens time and again. For instance, Isabel Soto
Cornejos observed when teaching illiterate peasants in
Chile during the Allende era that they reinvented the
“surveyors’ formula” for approximately rectangular
areas (average length × average width) spontaneously
after having been taught how to calculate the area of true
rectangles. Only problems that are complex enough to
serve as display are by the very fact also so characteristic
that they may function as index fossils. This is why the
recreational problems are crucial for the understanding
of the subscientific knowledge system and its relations
to the scholasticized and scientific systems.
Often the recreational problems go together in
clusters which, although some exchange takes place,
are relatively closed. As an example we may look at a
cluster – better documented than most others – which
appears to be connected to communities of merchants
interacting either along the Silk Road trading network
or in the sea trade between China, India, the Near
East, and the Mediterranean but which certainly also
had an impact on local communities of accountants
and calculators (whatever their social status and
organization) wherever they were in contact with the
merchants’ communities.
One favorite problem from this cluster was the
doubling of unity, repeated either 30 or 64 times and
ending by a summation. The first occurrence is in a text
from Mari (Northern Babylonia) from the eighteenth
century BCE. Then it turns up in a papyrus from Roman
Egypt, and next in a Carolingian problem collection
(Propositiones ad acuendos iuvenes) based on material
which had circulated since late antiquity in the Gallic
region – all of these instances deal with 30 doublings. In
the early ninth century, al-Khwārizmī wrote a treatise on
the other (chessboard) variant, which appears to have
passed via India, even though actual Indian attestations
are later. In the following centuries, both versions are
found in India, in the Islamic world, and from around
1200 even in Latin Europe.
Another problem from the cluster that was highly
popular in the Islamic and European Middle Ages was
the “purchase of a horse”: three men go to the market in
order to buy a horse. The first says that if he may have
half the money belonging to the others he will be able
to buy the horse; the second needs only one third, and
the third only one fourth (the number of purchasers and
the fractions may vary, but invariably they exhibit a
striking pattern). Sometimes the price of the horse is
told; sometimes the problem is left indeterminate and
thus is not only striking but outright absurd (in the
present case, any multiple of the set [10,22,26] will do
for an answer). The earliest Western source to state the
problem (without the equestrian dress) is Diophantos’
Arithmetic; slightly earlier is an occurrence with a
different dress in the Chinese Shushu jiuzhang (Nine
Chapters on the Arithmetic Art, first century AD). A
passage in Book I of Plato’s Republic, however, reveals
that the problem could be expected to be familiar for
the Athenian public of the fourth (and probably the
fifth) century BCE (“buying a horse collectively” is
said to be a situation where one needs an expert).
A third problem from the cluster is “the hundred
fowls”: Somebody is to buy 100 fowls for 100 monetary
units, given that (e.g.,) a rooster costs 5 units, and a hen
3, while chicks are sold 3 for 1 unit. It occurs in a
Chinese fifth century source, as well as the Carolingian
Propositiones, and Abū Kāmil describes it as wide-
spread in his environment among people who do not
understand the mathematical principles involved but
just give one answer without adequate reasoning. A
variant has been located by Jean Christianides in a
Greco-Egyptian papyrus.
It is thus true that the distribution of these (and
other) problems from the cluster bear witness of
“age-old cultural relations between…Civilizations” (in
Hermelink’s words as quoted initially). It is no less
true, however, that they highlight the absence of
cultural relations at other levels. The Nine Chapters
as well as Plato’s remark and the reflections of the
subscientific corpus in Diophantos’ Arithmetic demon-
strate that the literate cultures of China and of the
Mediterranean world (to take these as the paradigm)
knew about the anonymous tradition, and would take
over appropriate material without credit. The wholly
different methods applied by the Chinese mathemati-
cians and by Diophantos to solve the same problems

also show that what they took over was inspiration, in
particular problems, and not full mathematical struc-
tures. The high cultures did not really communicate
with the low oral culture (no more in mathematics than
in other cultural domains); they drew on them and
exploited them. Nor did they communicate with each
other through the low cultures. Moreover, what
happened at the level of oral culture may not be
adequately described as cultural relations. The very
possibility of distinguishing particular clusters shows
that even oral cultures had their sharp boundaries
across which only limited communication took place.
But these boundaries did not coincide with the
geographical boundaries between high cultures, and
only in part were they at all geographical in nature. It
was, so it seems, a common subscientific merchants’
culture which inspired the Chinese and the Alexandrian
mathematicians, and which thereby creates the illusion
of general cultural relations (similarly, jugglers might
move between China and ancient Rome; neither
Roman nor Chinese gentlemen ever did).
The cluster just used as an example belonged with a
calculators’ and caravan merchants’ culture. A cluster
dealt with elsewhere in this volume, surveyors’
“algebra”, was carried by practical geometers from
the Syro-Irano-Iraqi region. Even in this case, just
enough evidence from the Greco-Roman world has
survived to show directly that the tradition was known
(one Greek papyrus, a problem in one agrimensor
[surveyor] treatise). Indirect evidence shows that
Diophantos drew inspiration even from this source,
and that Book II of Euclid’s Elements is closely
connected to the tradition. For the present argument,
however, the relation between surveyors’ algebra and
Babylonian scribe school algebra is more important, as
an unusually articulate instance of the relation between
subscientific and scholasticized mathematics.
According to what can be concluded from combina-
tion of the evidence presented by the various written
traditions that it inspired, the stock of quasialgebraic
recreational which problems that were current among
the practical geometers of the region was quite restricted:
. to find the side of a square when the area; the
diagonal; the sum of the area and the side; or the sum
of the area and all four sides was known;
. to find the sides of a rectangle when the sum of its
sides was known together with the area or the area
augmented by the difference between the sides;
. when the difference between the sides together with
the area or the area augmented by both or by all four
sides; or
. when the diagonal together with the sum of or
difference between the sides.
Each problem type was presented by only one or at
most two examples, which would permit even those
Mathematics, practical and recreational 1355
who did not understand to learn them by heart, and
everything concerns the entities really present in the
geometrical configuration – the area, not some multi-
ple; the side, or the sides; etc. From indirect evidence,
we may assume that the diagonal of the 10 × 10 square
was taken to be 14.
The technique was taken over by the Old Babylonian
scribe school and developed into its central discipline – a
quasialgebra based on geometric cut-and-paste proce-
dures. It still appears to have served professional self-
esteem on the part of the scribes. But becoming a
discipline (etymologically: a subject which is to be
learned) it was systematized. We find texts which vary
the coefficients of both the area and the sides systemati-
cally, others which replace the length of a rectangle with
the product of the length and the ratio between length
and width, and the width with the product of the width
and the ratio between width and length (formally the
outcome is a problem of the sixth degree; the solution
combines a second-degree and a homogeneous third-
degree equation, that is, well-known stuff), and still
others where the geometrical entities represent prices in
artificial commercial problems. Mathematical irregula-
rities like the diagonal of 14 have been eliminated.
Beyond professional pride, this systematically
drilled technique served the purpose of normal school
mathematics: through the introduction of coefficients
and other complications, the discipline could function
as a training ground for the use of the sexagesimal place
M
value system, which was fundamental for the daily
engineering and accounting practice of scribes (while
all second-degree problems were completely artificial
and pure). On the same occasion, the problems lost
most of their recreational character.
But the introduction of systematic drills and the
elimination of mathematical irregularities were not the
only changes. The sixth-degree problems, however
much they constitute a trivial extension, and the use of
the geometrical technique as a representation of
nongeometrical entities, have to be understood as
systematic attempts to test the carrying capacity of the
professional tools, including the trick of the quadratic
completion that was the basis even of the surveyors’
algebra. The outcome may be claimed to be really an
algebra, while the “surveyors’ algebra” was not –
an algebra being understood as the application of a
functionally abstract standard representation (in terms
of x and y, Greek arithmós, or Arabic šay’ [thing] and
māl [possession]) in the analysis of complex relation-
ships involving entities of any kind. If the scribe school
had possessed the intellectual drive for that, a
transformation into scientific mathematics might have
occurred, as it appears to have occurred in the case of
wasan, and as it occurred – but then in interaction with
already-present scientific mathematics – in the Islamic
Middle Ages.
1356 Mathematics in Africa south of the Sahara
Lest anybody believe that the process of scholastiza-
tion, with all its tediously repetitive drills, should be a
characteristic of non-Western civilizations (or of some of
them), one may point out that it reached a high point in
the Humanist schools of the Renaissance and Early
Modern period – the very cradle of the Western ideology.
See also: ▶Mathematics in Japan, ▶Sexagesimal
System
References
The transcultural nature of recreational mathematics is
discussed in:
Hermelink, H. Arabic Recreational Mathematics as a Mirror
of Age-Old Cultural Relations Between Eastern and
Western Civilizations. Proceedings of the First Interna-
tional Symposium for the History of Arabic Science, April
5–12, 1976. Vol. II, Papers in European Languages.
Ed. A. Y. al-Hassan Aleppo: Institute for the History of
Arabic Science, Aleppo University, 1978. 44–92.
A highly useful (though by necessity incomplete) survey of
the occurrence of single recreational (and other) problem
types will be found in:
Tropfke, Johannes. Geschichte der Elementarmathematik.
4. Auflage. Band 1: Arithmetik und Algebra. Vollständig
neu bearbeitet von Kurt Vogel, Karin Reich, Helmuth
Gericke. Berlin and New York: W. de Gruyter, 1980.
A broad treatment of the relation between oral and literate
culture types is
Ong, Walter J. Orality and Literacy. The Technologizing of
the Word. London and New York: Methuen, 1982.
A general discussion of the concept of subscientific
mathematics (yet without a clear distinction between
subscientific and scholasticized traditions), with extensive
bibliography and source quotations, is
Høyrup, Jens. Sub-Scientific Mathematics. Observations on a
Pre-Modern Phenomenon. History of Science 28 (1990):
63–86.
The scholastization process in Babylonian algebra is
investigated in:
Høyrup, Jens. Algebra in the Scribal School–Schools in
Babylonian Algebra? NTM. Schriftenreihe für Geschichte
der Naturwissenschaften, Technik und Medizin, N. S.
4 (1993): 201–18.
Mathematics in Africa South
of the Sahara
PAULUS G ERDES
Most books on the history of mathematics devote only
a few pages to Africa, and even then only to Ancient
Egypt and to northern Africa during the Middle Ages.
Generally they ignore the existence of mathematics in
Africa south of the Sahara. They often deny that
Egyptian mathematics is African. With the publication
of Claudia Zaslavsky’s Africa Counts: Number and
Pattern in African Culture in 1973 this dominant
Eurocentric view of the history of mathematics in Africa
became challenged. When one uses a broad definition of
mathematics – including counting, locating, measuring,
designing, playing, explaining, classifying, sorting,
etc. – it becomes clear that mathematics is a pan-
cultural phenomenon manifesting itself in many ways.
In African history, we have evidence of counting and
numeration systems, games and puzzles, geometry,
graphs, record-keeping, money, weights, and measures,
etc. Mathematics in Africa may not be considered in
isolation either from the development of culture and
economy in general, or from the evolution of art,
cosmology, education, philosophy, natural sciences,
medicine, logic and language, graphic systems, and
technology in particular. The application of historical
and ethnomathematical research methods in recent years
has contributed to a better knowledge and understanding
of the history of mathematics in Africa.
In this article evidence for early mathematical activity
in Africa will be given, followed by examples from
geometry, games, riddles, and puzzles with mathemati-
cal “ingredients.” Some topics for future research will be
indicated and some comments about the development of
mathematics south of the Sahara and in other regions, in
particular northern Africa, will be presented.
A small piece of the fibula of a baboon, marked with
29 clearly defined notches, may be one of the oldest
mathematical artifacts known in the world. Discovered
in the early seventies during an excavation of a cave in
the Lebombo Mountains between South Africa and
Swaziland, the bone has been dated to approximately
35,000 BCE. This bone resembles calendar sticks still
in use today by the San (Bushmen) in Namibia. The
San hunters developed very good visual discrimination
and visual memory for survival in the harsh environ-
ment of the Kalahari desert. From the San in Botswana,
information has been collected on their counting,
measurement, time-reckoning, classification, and track-
ing. Well known as early evidence for mathematical
activity in Africa is a bone now dated from about
8000 BCE to 20,000 BCE, dug up at Ishango (Zaire).
The bone has what appear to be tallying marks on it,
notches carved in groups that have been explained as
early lunar phase count or as an arithmetical game of
some sort.
Georges Njock has characterized the relationship
between African art and mathematics as follows: “Pure
mathematics is the art of creating and imagining. In this
sense black art is mathematics.”
Mathematicians have primarily analyzed symmetries
in African art. Symmetries of repeated patterns may be
classified on the basis of the 24 different possible types
of patterns which can be used to cover a plane surface

(these are the 24 plane groups attributed to Federov). Of
these, seven admit translations in only one direction and
are called strip patterns. This classification has been
applied to decorative patterns that appear on the raffia
pile cloths of the Bakuba (Zaire), on Benin bronzes, and
on Yoruba adire cloths (Nigeria), showing that all seven
strip patterns and many of the plane patterns occur. The
use of group theory in the analysis of symmetries in
African art attests to and underlines the creative
imagination of the artists and artisans involved and
their capacity for abstraction. These studies do not
focus, however, on how and why the artists and artisans
themselves classify and analyze their symmetries. This
is a field open for further research.
Why do symmetries appear in human culture in
general, and in African craftwork and art, in particular?
Paulus Gerdes analyzed the origin of axial, double
axial, and rotational symmetry in African basketry. He
showed how six and fivefold symmetry emerged quite
naturally when artisans were solving some problems in
(basket) weaving (see Figs. 1 and 2).
Beehive, conical, cylindrical, and rectangular shapes
are common in African architecture. In West Africa the
mathematician-scholar and the architectural designer–
builder was often the same person. An example of
geometrical know-how used in laying out the rectangu-
lar house plans in Mozambique is the following. Two
ropes of equal length are tied together at their midpoints.
Mathematics in Africa South of the Sahara. Fig. 1 Two
examples of woven strip patterns on baskets (Mozambique).
Mathematics in Africa South of the Sahara.
Fig. 2 Hexagonal weaving pattern (Congo, Kenya,
Madagascar, Mozambique).
Mathematics in Africa south of the Sahara 1357
A bamboo stick, whose length is equal to the desired
breadth of the house, is laid down on the floor, and at its
endpoints pins are hit into the ground. An endpoint of
each of the ropes is tied to one of the pins. Then the ropes
are stretched and at the remaining two endpoints of the
ropes, new pins are hit into the ground. These four pins
determine the four vertices of the house to be built.
The geometric shapes of pots, baskets, fishtraps,
houses, etc. generally represent many practical advan-
tages and are frequently the only possible or the
optimal solutions of a production problem. Some
scholarly research has been undertaken concerning
knowledge about the properties and relations of circles,
angles, rectangles, squares, regular pentagons and
hexagons, cones, pyramids, cylinders, symmetry, etc.
probably involved in the invention of the techniques
(Gerdes 1992a,b). Themes for further research are the
geometry of string figures, the geometry of settlement
patterns in Africa, and the geometry involved in the
ornamentation of the walls of buildings all over Africa
(e.g., the attractive colorful patterns of the Ndebele in
South Africa and the litema patterns drawn by Basotho
women in Lesotho) (Fig. 3).
Games
Among the games with mathematical ingredients are
counting rhymes and rhythms, arrangements, three-in-
a-row-games like Shisima (Kenya), Achi (Ghana), M
Murabaraba (Lesotho), Muravarava (Mozambique),
and games of chance. Board games like Mancala
games, both two-row versions such as Oware (Ghana),
Awélé (Côte d’Ivoire), Ayo and Okwe (Nigeria), and
four-row versions such as Omweso (Uganda), Tshisolo
(Zaire), and Ntchuva (Mozambique) also exhibit use of
mathematical knowledge.
Recent research in Côte d’Ivoire showed that the
rules of some games, like Nigbé Alladian, reveal a
traditional and empirical knowledge of probabilities.
Riddles and Puzzles
From the Kpelle (Liberia) a riddle has been reported
about a man who has a leopard, a goat, and a pile of
cassava leaves to be transported across a river, whereby
Mathematics in Africa South of the Sahara.
Fig. 3 Examples of litema wall patterns (Lesotho).
1358 Mathematics in Africa south of the Sahara
certain conditions have to be satisfied: the boat can
carry no more than one at a time, besides the man
himself; the goat cannot be left alone with the leopard,
and the goat will eat the cassava leaves if it is not
guarded. How can he take them across the river? This
type of problem is also known from Ethiopia, Liberia,
Tanzania, Uganda, and Zambia. More difficult to solve
is the following puzzle from the Valuchazi (eastern
Angola and northwestern Zambia) about three women
and three men who want to cross a river in order to
attend a dance on the other side. With the river between
them there is a boat with the capacity for taking only
two people at one time. However, each of the men
wishes to be the only husband of all the three women.
Regarding the crossing, they would like to cross in
pairs, each man with his female partner, but failing that
any of the other men could claim all the women for
himself. How can they cross? In order to solve the
problem or to explain the solution, the Valuchazi make
auxiliary drawings in the sand.
The relationships between the development of
mathematics in Africa south of the Sahara and the
development of mathematics in Ancient Egypt, in both
Hellenistic and Islamic northern Africa, and across the
Indian and Atlantic Oceans, deserve further study.
Throughout history there have been many and varied
contacts between Africa south of the Sahara and North
Africa. Since the birth and spread of Islam, relations
have been intensified and/or extended. ˓Ilm al-isāb
(arithmetic), as part of the Islamic sciences was
introduced some time after the eleventh century in
Nigeria, first in Kanem–Borno and later, probably in
the fifteenth century in Hausaland. Arithmetic was
taught in both secular and Islamiyya schools, was
used in the courts for the calculation of inheritance,
and for collecting and distributing poor dues, business,
and land surveying. A famous mathematician was
Muammed ibn Muammed from Katsina (now northern
Nigeria), who worked on chronograms and magic
squares. He had been a pupil of Muammed Alwali of
Bagirmi. He made a pilgrimage to Mecca in 1730, and
he died in Cairo in 1741. Recently a manuscript of
his was found in Marrakesh, Morocco. Magic squares
were used in amulets among the Fulbe, and in Niger,
Benin and Timbuktu (Mali). Formal logic was one
of the fields of study in the economic and educational-
scientific centre of Timbuktu, where recently three
Arabic mathematical manuscripts were found in the
Amad Baba Library. One of the three manuscripts,
whose calligraphy is typical for Africa south of the
Sahara, seems to have been written by a mathematician
from Mali, al-Arwani. The other two contain references
to medieval mathematicians from the Maghreb. Sys-
tematic research in libraries and archives will probably
lead to the discovery of more mathematical manuscripts
from Muslim scholars south of the Sahara.
What mathematics was brought to the Americas by
the slaves? Which mathematical ideas have survived in
one way or another? Mancala, and maybe other games
with mathematical components, are played in the
Caribbean and may be compared with their African
“ancestors.” In Africa the slave trade was extremely
destructive of the existing mathematical traditions. This
is because of breaking professional continuity and
depriving Africa of bearers of mathematical knowledge
and skills such as that of the drawing experts from
Angola and Zambia and that of calculators like Thomas
Fuller (1719–1790). Recent ethnomathematical re-
search in Nigeria and Mozambique shows the survival,
nonetheless, of a rich tradition of mental calculations
among illiterate people.
The destructive impact of colonialism and the slave
trade on Africa is one of the principal reasons Georges
Njock gives to explain why mathematics in Africa has
had a slower development in the last five centuries than
in Europe. Other reasons he gives deal with the
geography of the continent (migratory movement) and
wars. This also constitutes an important research area
that deserves further study.
See also: ▶Number Systems in Africa, ▶Geometry
in Africa: Sona Geometry
References
African Mathematical Union. Commission on the History
of Mathematics in Africa (AMUCHMA). Newsletter,
1986.
Ascher, Marcia. Malagsy “Sikidy”: A Case in Ethnomathe-
matics. Historia Mathematica 24 (1997): 376–395.
Eglash, Ron. Bamana Sand Divination: Recusion in Ethno-
mathematics. American Anthropologist 99.1 (1997):
112–12.
Gerdes, Paulus. On Ethnomathematical Research and
Symmetry. Symmetry: Culture and Science 1.2 (1990):
154–70.
---. Fivefold Symmetry and (Basket) Weaving in Various
Cultures. Fivefold Symmetry in a Cultural Context. Ed.
I. Hargittai. Singapore: World Scientific Publishing, 1991.
243–59.
---. On the History of Mathematics in Africa South of the
Sahara. AMUCHMA Newsletter 9 (1992a): 3–32.
---. Ethnogeometrie. Kulturanthropologische Beitrage zur
Genese und Didaktik der Geometrie. Bad Salzdetfurth/
Hildesheim: Verlag Barbara Franzbecker, 1992b.
---. Vinte Cinco Años De Estudos Histórico-Etnomatemáticos
Na África Ao Sul do Sahara. Llull 26 (2003): 491–520.
Kani, Ahmad Mohammad. Arithmetic in the Pre-Colonial
Central Sudan. Science and Technology in African History
with Case Sudies from Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Zimbabwe,
and Zambia. Ed. G. Thomas-Emeagwali. Lewiston: Edwin
Mellen Press, 1992. 33–9.
Kjeldsen, Tinne Hoff, et al. New Trends in the History and
Philosophy of Mathematics. Odense: University Press of
Southern Denmark, 2004.

Lumpkin, Beatrice. Africa in the Mainstream of Mathe-
matics History. Blacks in Science. Ed. I. Van Sertima. New
Brunswick, New Jersey: Transaction Books, 1983. 100–9.
Njock, Georges E. Mathématiques et environnement socio-
culturel en Afrique Noire. Présence Africaine, New
Bilingual Series 135.3 (1985): 3–21.
Selin, Helaine, et al. Mathematics Across Cultures: The
History of Non-Western Mathematics. Dordrecht: Kluwer
Academic, 2000.
Washburn, Dorothy and Donald Crowe. Symmetries of
Culture: Theory and Practice of Plane Pattern Analysis.
Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1988.
Zaslavsky, Claudia. Africa Counts: Number and Pattern in
African Culture. Brooklyn, New York: Lawrence Hill
Books, 1979.
Mathematics in Africa: West African
Games
S ALIMATA D OUMBIA
Exploring the sociocultural environment of Africa is an
interesting way of learning about concrete mathemat-
ics. Games, always a popular childhood activity, should
be studied with care in as much as they are a reflection
of the society and its fundamental values. Today we are
witnessing the introduction of “educational games” to
the African continent, as if African games did not exist.
In this article, we will describe several African games
and the mathematics behind them.
Exhibition Games
In Africa there are games which have hidden underly-
ing algorithms. The person who knows the algorithm is
assured of winning, which makes him a “magician” or
“sorcerer” to those who do not know it. The “sorcerer”
often chants incantations or performs other magic tricks
to show his power. We will study two of these games.
a. The game of the sorcerer. The game of the sorcerer is
very old. Sorcerers perform it to demonstrate their
supernatural powers. Forms of the game are played
throughout Africa – in Senegal (Game of the Devil), in
the bend of the Niger River (the Sorcerer’s Appren-
tice), in the Ivory Coast (Lokoto), and in Mali
(Gamma) (Fig. 1)
There are two players: the sorcerer and his victim. The
game is played on a board of 12 compartments set up in
two rows of 6 and 48 beads.
Before be.ginning play, the players place four beads in
each compartment. The sorcerer and the victim each take
two stones from 11 compartments. From the 12th, the
sorcerer takes three beads, the victim one (the sorcerer
thus has two extra beads). He must now “magically” pass
Mathematics in Africa: West African games 1359
Mathematics in Africa: West African Games.
Fig. 1 Game of the Sorcerer. Photograph by the author.
the two extra beads to the victim. He rubs the beads,
chants incantations, blows on his thumbs, and then
instructs the victim to fill the compartments with four
beads each as he does the same. When the beads are
redistributed, three beads are left in the victim’s hand, one
in the sorcerer’s, and the trick is done.
If we analyze the mathematical aspects of the game,
we see that it has two parts:
1. The taking of the stones (beads)
The sorcerer: 2 × 11 + 3 = 25
The victim: 2 × 11 + 1 = 23
2. The replacing of the stones M
Each player must put four beads in each of the
compartments, filling as many as he can with the
beads in his hand.
The sorcerer: 25 = 4 × 6 + 1
The victim: 23 = 4 × 5 + 3
After redistributing the beads, the victim has three
beads in his hand and the sorcerer, one. The game
works whenever the number of compartments is even.
b. The game of the unknown stone. The player asks a
spectator to select in his mind one of 16 different
stones. The player must discover the unknown,
selected stone. First, he arranges the stones in two
rows of eight. Then he asks the spectator to indicate
the row that the unknown stone is in. Mentally the
player makes two groups of four stones each from the
stones in the indicated row. He rearranges them (or
distributes each group on different lines) and asks the
spectator again to indicate which row has the unknown
stone. Upon the indication of the row he makes two
groups of two stones each from one of the groups of
four stones. Then he rearranges them again.
Again, the spectator indicates the row with the unknown
stone. The player then redistributes the only two stones
left, which could possibly be the unknown stone, into
two different rows. The spectator again indicates the row
with the unknown stone. Having identified the stone, the
1360 Mathematics in Africa: West African games

player then collects all the stones together, mixes them up, Word Games and Traditional Learning in Africa
pulls out the “unknown” stone, and the game is over. In many African countries, traditional learning is oral.
The mathematics of this game shows that the player Information and wisdom are transmitted from genera-
must divide the stones into two rows in order to locate tion to generation in the form of proverbs, stories,
the unknown stone. chants, riddles, and games. This provides real lessons in
16 = 24 where 4 is the number of times that the player language, history, geography, natural science, arithme-
must divide the 16 stones, two being the number of tic, measurement, cosmography, etc. Teaching is seen as
rows. More generally, if n is the total number of stones, the natural and traditional way of communicating the
and k is the number of times the player must divide the secrets of the adult world to a child. Following are some
stones into two rows, then the following equation holds examples of counting games.
true: n = 2k. Inversely, if one knows n, one can calculate
k from the formula k = log2 n.
Cumulative Chants
Memory Games: The Yé Gonan. The Yé Gonan is
Games of Chance a children’s game from the Ivory Coast. There are
Men have always played games of chance. In Africa, two players, one who asks questions and one who
there are many situations in which chance is called into answers. The players use eight stones and eight holes
play: when one needs to make a hard choice (heads or dug in a line in the sand, each one containing a stone.
tails, the short straw), or when one needs to be sure of The player who is answering looks at the game and
winning. Games of chance are based on theories of makes himself/herself acquainted with the rules. One
probability. of the rules is to retain correctly the sense of the course
The cowrie is a sea shell with two sides: a front and a imposed by the questioning player. Then the answering
back. In Africa, cowries were considered rare and player turns his back on the game. For each turn,
valuable, and so played an important role in African the questioner taps on the hole and always asks the
life. Its form, similar to an aura according to the same question: “Am I taking a stone?” The answerer,
mystics, makes it an instrument of divination. Cowries who has his back to the game, can only answer “Yes”
also play a role in initiations, funerals, and engage- or “No, it’s empty.” Each time that he has taken a
ments, and in certain regions of Africa, they were – and stone, the questioner comes back to the first hole.
still are – used as a medium of exchange. The answerer who reaches the eighth hole without
All the cowrie games are collective games. The making a mistake, wins the game. The players then
number of players is two or more. The principle of change roles (Fig. 2).
the game is simple. Two players (or two representatives The mathematical problem posed by the game is the
of two teams) throw the cowries at the same time. The following: when the questioner is at hole number n,
cowries fall on the ground, landing on one of two sides. which contains a stone, which is the total number Zn of
There are usually four shells. The configurations formed questions posed from the beginning of the game to the
by the cowries are examined so that the results can be taking of that stone?
read. The results are interpreted according to pre- The answer is Zn = n(n+1)/2.
established rules: heads is given a +; tails is given a –. It is a triangular number. For n = 8, one finds that:
Thus, when the four stones are thrown, there are five Z8 ¼ 9  8=2 ¼ 36 ¼ 62 . The number Z8 is therefore
possible configurations: a squared number: it is the smallest number that is, at
the same time, both triangular and squared. The
Pythagorean tradition considered the number n
Heads (+) Tails (–) (n + 1)/2 as a secret value. It is interesting to find this
++++ –––– 10 points –––– win same representation in the Pythagorean tradition both
+++– ++++ 5 points ++++ win among the moors in Mauritania and the Wolofs in
++–– ++–– 2 points ++–– win
Senegal.
+––– +++– 0 points +++– lose
–––– +––– 0 points +––– lose
Configurations Example 1 Example 2

The calculation of points varies. There are two ways to

compute points, either numerically (Example 1) or not
(Example 2). Generally, if points are calculated
numerically, the winner is declared when a player
reaches a certain total number of points, that number
being fixed before play begins.

Mathematics in Africa: West African Games.
Fig. 2 Cumulative chants diagram.
Riddle problems. In The Vultures, a shepherd,
spending the night under a baobab tree, heard an old
vulture pose the following riddle to some children:
“There are 33 baobab trees; on each baobab there are 33
vultures; each vulture had laid 33 eggs; each egg yields
33 chicks; and each chick has 33 barbed feathers –
How many barbed feathers are there altogether?” The
shepherd, wanting to answer, fell dead. This is why,
they say, the Fulani do not want to answer.
The solution to the problem lies in the calculation of
powers. There are 336 vultures: 336 = 1,291,467,969.
Magic squares. The Fulani are familiar with simple
magic squares. They appear drawn with Arabic nume-
rals as amulets. They are also used as a kind of game.
Someone who knows the magic square proposes it to a
group of people who then try to figure it out by putting
stones, pebbles, or pieces of dung in a square drawn on
the ground.
In a magic square, the sum of the numbers in each line,
horizontal, vertical or diagonal, is the same. The
number of Allah is 5 + 30 + 30 + 1 = 66. In the Square
Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers 1361
of Saturn, the total is 15, and in the Four Angels, the
total is 92,541. Magic squares are well known in
Muslim countries, as they are in China and Japan.
See also: ▶Mathematics, ▶Recreational
References
Béart, C. Jeux et Jouets de l’Quest Africain. Dakar: IFAN,
1955.
Comoe, Krou. Ludistique Mathématique. Abidjan: Université
d’Abidjan, 1978.
Deledicq, A. and A. Popova. Wari et Solo. Supplement to the
Bulletin de liaison des Professeurs de Mathématiques, no.
14, 1977.
Doumbia, S. J. C. and Pil. Les Jeux de couris. Abidjan:
CEDA, 1992.
I.R.M.A. Mathématiques dans l’Environnement Socio-
Culturel Africain, 1984.
Lombard, C. Les jouets des enfants Baoulé. Paris: Quatre
vents, 1978.
Neveu, J. Mathematical Foundations of the Calculus of
Probabilities. San Francisco: Holden-Day, 1965.
Plot. Dossier jeux, maths et sociétés. Décembre 1994.
Mathematics and Astronomies
of the Ancient Berbers M
J OSÉ B ARRIOS G ARCÍA
Northwest Africa is an immense territory extending
from the Mediterranean shores to the Niger River and
from Libya to the Canary Islands. It is here where
Berber culture began to develop about 10,000 years
ago, and where it has continued to develop until the
present.
Despite the antiquity and widespread diffusion of
Berber culture, North African studies have traditionally
understated its contribution to human history. Camps
(1980) aptly summarized the situation in the title of his
book: Berbères: aux marges de l’Histoire (Berbers: On
the Margins of History). Although the overall situation
has improved in the last decades thanks to the efforts of
a new generation of scholars – one main outcome being
the ongoing publication of the Encyclopédie Berbère,
of which 27 volumes have already appeared – actual
research on the mathematics and astronomies of the
ancient Berbers remains scarce.
A faithful exposition of the situation must take into
account two main areas of research, each one of them
with its own scope, achievements and methodological
problems: continental Berbers on the one hand, and
Canary Islands Berbers on the other. While both areas
1362 Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers

are certainly unbalanced from many points of views,
for our purposes they complement one another.
Continental studies are part of the ethnographic
fieldwork performed in the nineteenth to twentieth
centuries by European researchers, so they mainly
provide information on modern Berbers. Most of these
notices are related to astronomy through religion,
calendar, and folklore, while those few dealing with
mathematics mainly focus on numeral systems and
their grammar. While some of the reported traditions
are important and thought-provoking, little has been
said on the technical aspects underlying them, nor on
their supposed origin and extent. Besides that, some
preliminary work has also been done on the astral
aspects of the religion of the ancient Berbers, as well as
on the astronomical orientation of a few archaeological
sites.
Canarian studies deal with the Berber populations
inhabiting the archipelago before the Spanish conquest
of the Islands on the late fifteenth century. They mainly
draw on a collection of written sources originating with
the European rediscovery of the Islands in the early
fourteenth century, complemented with archaeological,
ethnographic, and linguistic data. Since written sources
mostly apply to Grand Canary and Tenerife in the
fourteenth to fifteenth century, I must restrict the
evidence to both islands and this period of time.
Numeral Systems
Our knowledge of ancient Berber numerals comes from
different sources, and all of them point to a pure
10-base system. The three oldest numeral lists are from
the Canary Islands and are summarized in Table 1. The
first one appears in a letter describing a Portuguese
expedition to the islands in 1341, and seems to have
been first studied by Costa de Macedo (1841). The
second one appears in a play written in 1582. The third
one appears in a chronicle of the conquest of Grand
Canary preserved in a very problematic manuscript
from 1682–1687; it is most probably a late compilation
that dislocates the original list by erroneously introdu-
cing two Arabian numerals (arba and canza) and false
forms for the tens.
Continental lists are considerably younger than the
Canarian ones. The first one I can document was made
by Domingo Badía in 1804 near Marrakech, and
published under a pseudonym in Abassi (1814).

Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers. Table 1 The three known lists of Canarian numerals

Recco 1341 Cairasco 1582 Cedeño 1687

Hypothesis 1 Hypothesis 2 Hypothesis 3

1 nait/vait be be be ben
2 smetti smi smi smi liin
3 amelotti amat amat amat amiet/amiat
4 acodetti aco aco[s] aco[s] arba
5 simusetti somuset somu[s] somu[s] canza
6 sesetti – – [ses] sumus
7 satti – set set set
8 tamatti tamo tamo tamo set
9 alda morana – – benir ? acot
10 marava [marago] [marago] marago marago
11 nait/vait marava ben-ir-marago ben-ir-marago – venir marago
12 smatta marava – – – linir marago
13 amierat marava – – – –
14 acodat marava – – – –
15 simusat marava – – – –
16 sesatti marava – – – –
20 – – – – linago
30 – – – – amiago
40 – – – – arbago
50 – – – – cansago
60 – – – – sumago
70 – – – – satago
80 – – – – setago
90 – – – – acotago
100 – – – – bemaraguin
200 – – – – limar…in
 Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers 1363

Generally speaking, the continental data show that the
intense Arabisation process suffered by conti-
nental Berber speaking groups from the seventh
century on led to three types of situations, summarized
in Table 2:
a. Certain groups preserved a purely Berber numeral
system (Tuaregs, Mzabits, etc.).
b. Certain groups completely lost the Berber numeral
system, and counted with some dialectal variant of
the Arab system.
c. Certain groups preserved the Berber numerals
until a certain point and after that they counted
with some dialectal variant of the Arab system.
Among them were Kabylians (counting in Berber
up to two) and Shilhs (counting in Berber up to
nineteen).
Prasse (1974) undertook the reconstruction of the
proto-Berber language. A comparison of his recon-
struction with other relevant members of the Afro-
Asiatic family can be seen in Table 3.

Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers. Table 2 Tuareg, Kabylian, and Arabian numeral systems

Tuareg 1859 Kabylian 1858 Classic Arabian

Male Female Male Female Male Female

1 iien iiet iiun, iiedj iiuth, iiechth ’ah.adun, wāh.idun ’ih.dâ, wāh.idatun
2 sin, essin senatet sin senath ’itnāni ’itnatāni
3 keradh keradhet thletha id. talātun talātatun
4 okkoz okkozet arbâa id. ’arba‘un ’arba‘atun
5 semmus semmuset khamsa id. hamsun hamsatun
6 sedis sediset settsa id. ˘ un
sitt ˘ un
sittat
7 essaa essahat sebâa id. sab‘un sab‘atun
8 ettam ettamet themania id. tamānin tamāniyatun
9 tezzaa tezzahat tsâa id. tis‘un tis‘atun
10 merau meraut âchera id. ‘ašrun ‘ašaratun
11 merau d iien meraut d iiet ah’dach id. ’ah.ada ‘ašara ’ih.dâ ‘ašrata
12 merau d sin meraut de senatet ethnach id. ’itnā ‘ašara ’itnatā ‘ašrata M
20 id. senatet temeruin âcherin id. ‘išrūna id.
30 id. keradhet temeruin thlathin id. talātūna id.
40 id. okkozet temeruin arbâin id. ’arba‘ūna id.
50 id. semmuset temeruin khamsin id. hamsūna id.
60 id. sediset temeruin settsin id. ˘
sittūna id.
70 id. essahat temeruin sebâin id. sab‘ūna id.
80 id. ettamet temeruin themaniin id. tamānūna id.
90 id. tezzaat temeruin tesâin id. tis’ūna id.
100 id. timidhi miia id. mi’atun id.
200 id. senatet temadh miithain id. mi’atāny id.
1000 id. agim elef id. ‘ĕlf id.

Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers. Table 3 General comparative table of numeral systems

Proto-Berber Canarian Egyptian Acadian Arabian

1 yīwan nai/vai, be, ben w’jw ištēn wāh.idun

2 sīn sme, smi snwj ši/ena ’itnāni
3 karād. amel, amat hmtw šalaš talātun
4 hakkūz. acod, aco[s] ˘
jfdw erba ’arba‘un
5 sammūs simus, somu[s] djw hamiš hamsun
6 sad. īs ses jsw ˘
(ši/eššum) ˘ un
sitt
7 sāh sa, se sfhw sebe sab‘un
8 tām tama, tamo hmnw˘ samāne tamānin
9 tiz.āh alda [marava] ˘psdw tiše tis‘un
10 marāw marava, marago mdw ešer ‘ašrun
1364 Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers
Astronomy, Calendars and Social Organization
The fieldwork of nineteenth to twentieth century
ethnographers shows that northwest African peasants
actually used several concurrent calendars. While the
Julian calendar was the most used for agricultural
purposes and the Hegira was mainly used in religious
circumstances, the Gregorian calendar served to interact
with administration and modern life, and was a common
reference between the different systems.
Since these three calendars are non-Berber in origin
and a summary of their local characteristics can be seen
in EB–Gast–Delheure (1992), it is only necessary here
to make a brief remark on their respective dates of
introduction. Certainly, the Hegira was introduced after
the Arab invasion in the seventh century and the
Gregorian calendar after its inception in 1582, but there
are good reasons to think that the Julian calendar is
not a remnant of Roman domination, as is usually said.
It seems to have been introduced by Coptic commu-
nities well after the Arab invasion and before the
adoption of the Gregorian calendar (Servier 1985).
Besides the three mentioned calendars, a less evident
but more profound and extensive astronomical tradition
has been posed by two different and exhaustive studies
carried out in the middle twentieth century by the
French ethnologists Jean Servier and Viviana Pâques.
The Doors of the Year
Jean Servier travelled in North Algeria from 1949 to
1961 compiling information about the traditional
thinking of Berber speaking peasants. His work (Servier
1962, 1985) describes a complex symbolic world super-
posed on an apparently simple material culture. He
found that northern Algerian peasants mix a visible
world with an invisible world. The invisible world
would be related to their ancestors and the rhythms of
nature as marked by the tibburin ussegwass (doors
of the year). The doors of the year are the solstices
and the equinoxes. In his opinion, this was part of an
ancient system, which has disappeared in other parts of
the circum-Mediterranean area, but is well preserved
by traditional Berber peasants.
Canopus and the Cosmic Tree
From 1953 on Viviana Pâques researched in Fezzan,
Sahara, Mali, Algeria and Tunis. She studied the
spiritual world which enslaved Black people would
have brought with them into these lands. Her results
were presented in Pâques (1964). To her surprise, what
she found was a conception of the world common to all
peoples of North and West Africa, a conception as
characteristic for an anthropologist as a typical biface
would be for an archaeologist (Pâques 1964: 10).
Everywhere she found one or another variant of the
following cosmogony:
1. God created the world by exploding Canopus, the
primeval star. From Canopus exited the triple
serpent it held in its matrix, which commands all
divisions of the world by three. The explosion of
Canopus gave birth to six other stars, which
command all divisions of the world by seven.
2. The world turned back when a hero (sometimes a
smith) decapitated the serpent, which was the
prelude to all circumcisions.
3. The hero descended to the Earth through the triple
cosmic tree formed by the body of the decapitated
serpent.
4. The hero ascended the cosmic tree later, on the
occasion of a second sacrifice of the serpent, which
was the prelude to all marriages.
5. These mystic events occurred at a determinate point
of the sky, at a moment when the sun was in a parti-
cular relation with Canopus, for the explosion, and
with the Pleiades for the sacrifices. (On the planets’
layout, the Pleiades are assimilated with Venus).
This myth defined the rules that organise every aspect
of traditional North and West African life. From
political, territorial and social structures to the divi-
sion and rhythms of the heavenly movements, from
the division of the agricultural year by means of
certain constellations, to the design of clothes, shoes,
coiffures and everything that could reflect this system
in daily life.
The myth is deeply associated with three colours –
white, red and black – respectively related to the triple
serpent inside Canopus. Number 3 (and 60-based counts)
is associated with women, while 4 (and 80-based
counts) are associated with men. Number 7 (=3 + 4)
represents the union of a man and a woman.
As to the origin of this African cosmogony, different
opinions have been posed, ranging from a Mediterra-
nean to an Oriental or Indian one. Nevertheless, the
internal coherence, originality and distribution map of
this myth make Pâques suggest that it originated at a
very ancient date in some agricultural community
living in a subdesert territory, perhaps around some of
the Saharan oases where these conceptions are most
fully preserved (Pâques 1964: 676).
What can be said about the astronomical and mathe-
matical implications carried by the antiquity, originality
and complexity of this cosmogonical system? This is
probably one of the most interesting open problems for the
history of ancient sciences, and the Canary Islands have
something to say here.
The Canarian Evidence
In the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries AD, Grand
Canary and Tenerife were inhabited by Berber
populations – called Canarians and Guanches – coming
from the nearby continent on different occasions
 Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers 1365

between the first millennium BCE and the first which gives its name to the mountain. The precise
millennium AD. These populations remained relatively orientation of these doors assures that sunlight only
isolated until the European rediscovery of the Islands in enters the cave at sunrise (Fig. 3) and sunset (Fig. 4) on
the late thirteenth century. At that time the population a few days around the summer solstice.
of each island was about 40–60,000, sustaining a Seen from south its appearance is diametrically
developed agricultural (barley, wheat) and stock raising opposed, plunging abruptly from its top to the bottom
(goats, sheep, pigs) economy. The written sources point of a ravine. On this slope there is a group of spacious
out the presence in both islands of a powerful priestly and sophisticated artificial caves excavated in the rock,
class, in whose religious system the sun, moon and among which stands out the Cave of the Pillars. This
stars played a very important role. cave is fully illuminated by the rising sun on winter
solstice days (Figs. 5 and 6).
At the top of the mountain there is a little ritual
Grand Canary Island esplanade of some 10 × 5 m. partially excavated on the
The Canarians used a synodic lunar calendar for daily rock (Fig. 2). Open to the east and south, on the wall
life. The lunar year was adjusted to the solar year at the facing the east there is a carved sign about 2.4 m. long
summer solstice. Although nobody mentions an with JUUU form (Fig. 8).
intercalary moon, the first new moon after the summer
solstice marked a new year and was feasted. Actual
calendrical figures are very scarce but they mention a
lunar synodic month of 29 days, a lunar year of 12
months, and a certain period of 520 days, which is an
exact measure of one and a half eclipse years or three
passes of the Sun by the lunar nodes (incidentally, this
is the reason why eclipses are located in three fixed
zones of the 260-day Mesoamerican sacred calendar).
There are also notices about observation of rising and
setting of stars. Sirius is the only explicitly mentioned
star but there is a clear reference to Afarakrak, a Berber
name of Canis Maior, in Facaracas, the preserved name M
of an important site where the nobility of the island
used to meet.
Archaeoastronomical research undertaken from
1985 at the mountain of Cuatro Puertas (Four Doors)
has revealed several methods for observing the
solstices and other astronomical dates. Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
The mountain is an isolated arid volcanic semicone Fig. 2 Ritual esplaaade at the top of Cuatro Puertas after
oriented east–west with an elevation of 319 m. above Berthelot (1879).
sea level. Seen from the north (Fig. 1) its slopes are
smooth and rounded. All that stands out is the big
artificial cave with four entries located near the top,

Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers. Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 1 The mountain of Cuatro Puertas after Berthelot Fig. 3 Summer solstice sunrise at Cuatro Puertas cave. Photo
(1879). by José Barrios García.
1366 Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 4 Summer solstice sunset at Cuatro Puertas Cave. Photo
by Jose Barrios Garcia.
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 5 Winter solstice sunrise from the Cave of the Pillars.
Photo by José Barrios García.
Every day at sunrise the silhouette of the rock
located in front of the sign casts a certain shadow that
changes its position day by day, reflecting the
azimuthal change of the sunrise. The left edge of the
shadow reaches the different strokes on determined
dates, while the whole shadow fits the sign just on the
summer solstice days (Figs. 7 and 8).
The Canarians used certain characters to record
numerical, astronomical and calendrical data systemat-
ically. These figures were triangles, squares and circles
painted in white, red and black on wood planks and on
the walls of certain caves. The modern reconstruction
of the decoration of the Painted Cave of Gáldar
strongly suggests the use of a 3 × 4 chessboard, named
acano, to represent 12 moons (Figs. 9 and 10).
A systematic analysis of the acano as a lunar
calendar shows how the vertical numeration of its
squares forces the solstitial, equinoctial and eclipse
Moons to move across the board in very simple and
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 6 Winter solstice sunrise illuminating the cave of the
Pillars. Photo by José Barrios García.
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 7 Summer solstice sunrise from the sign of Cuatro
Puertas. Photo by José Barrios García.
stable patterns. These patterns provide a safe and clear
mnemonic guide for performing on the acano an easy
arithmetical calculus of seasonal and eclipse moons
over extended periods of time. This calculus establishes
the octaeteris and the 135-Moon eclipse cycle as basic
periods of the acano.
Tenerife Island
The Guanches, as the Canarians, used a synodic lunar
calendar for daily life, adjusting it to the solar year at
the summer solstice. Also mentioned is the use of tally
boards and small necklaces of clay beads for
recordkeeping, although the absence of well-preserved
examples in a reliable archaeological context impedes
testing these accounts. Nobody mentions an intercalary
moon, but the first moon of the year occurred towards
the middle of August and was celebrated. This festival
exists today in the traditions of the Virgin of
Candelaria, patron of the island, whose apparition to

Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 8 The shadow at Summer solstice sunrise fitting the
sign of Cuatro Puertas. Photo by José Barrios García.
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 9 The Painted Cave of Gáldar after Verneau (1889).
Mathematics and Astronomies of the Ancient Berbers.
Fig. 10 The acano chessboard.
the Guanches is reported to have occurred about 100
years before the Spanish conquest in the late fifteenth
century. A close analysis of these traditions shows that
they match a Guanche cult to a stellar deity considered
Mathematics and astronomies of the ancient Berbers 1367
the “mother of the sun” as well as the “mother of the
one who sustains the world.”
Besides the main festival that occurred about the
middle of August, there were two other important ones
occurring in early February and late April, respectively.
These three periods can be readily correlated with
the heliacal rise, acronical rise and heliacal set of
Canopus. On the whole the gathered evidence proves
the presence in Tenerife of the Canopian cosmogonical
system described by Pâques (1964).
Further evidence concerning the determination of the
year of apparition of the Virgin to the Guanches
supports the idea that the Guanches used a commensu-
rability period of 19 solar years ≈21 sidereal lunar
years in their calendrical reckonings.
References
Abassi, A. B. El. Voyages d’Ali Bey El Abassi en Afrique et en
Asie, pendant les années 1803, 1804, 1805, 1806, 1807.
Vol. 1. Paris: Didot, 1814, http://gallica.bnf.fr/document?
o=N103585
Barrios García, J. The Guanche lunar calendar and the Virgin
of Candelaria (Tenerife, 14th–15th centuries). Proceedings
of the Second SEAC Conference (1994). W. Schlosser. Ed.
Bochum: Astronomisches Institut der Ruhr-Universität,
1996. 151–62.
---. Tara: a study on the Canarian astronomical pictures.
Part I. Towards an interpretation of the Gáldar Painted M
Cave. Ancient Times, Modern Methods. Proceedings of
the Third SEAC Conference (1995). F. Stanescu. Ed. Sibiu:
Lucian Blaga University, 1999. 24–36.
---. Tara: a study on the Canarian astronomical pictures. Part
II. The acano chessboard. Proceedings of the Fourth SEAC
Conference ‘Astronomy and Culture’ (1996). C. Jaschek
and F. Atrio Barandela Eds., Salamanca: Universidad,
1997. 47–54.
---. Sistemas de Numeración y Calendarios de las
Poblaciones Bereberes de Gran Canaria y Tenerife en
los Siglos XIV–XV. La Laguna, Tenerife: Secretariado
de Publicaciones de la Universidad de La Laguna, 2004
(CD-ROM).
Basset, R. Recherches sur la religion des berbères. Revue de
l’Histoire des Religions 61 (1910): 291–342.
Bernus, E. and A. -S. Ehya. Etoiles et constellations chez les
nomades. Awal 5 (1989): 141–53.
Berthelot, S. Antiquités Canariennes. Paris: Plon, 1879.
Brugnatelli, V. Questioni di Morfologia e Sintassi dei Numerali
Cardinali Semitici. Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1982.
Camps, G. Berbères, Aux Marges de l’Histoire. Toulouse:
Hespérides, 1980.
Costa de Macedo, J. J. Ethnographical remarks on the
original languages of the inhabitants of the Canary Isles.
Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London 11
(1841): 171–83.
EB, M. Gast and J. Delheure. Calendrier. Encyclopédie
Berbère. Vol. 11. Aix-en-Provence: Edisud, 1992. 1713–19.
Hachid, M. Les Premiers Bèrberes. Entre Mediterranée,
Tassili et Nil. Aix-en-Provence: Edisud, 2000.
1368 Mathematics: Aztec mathematics

Klingenheben, A. Zu den Zählmethoden in den Berber- Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics. Table 1 The Nahuatl
sprachen. Zeitschrift für Eingeborenen-Sprachen XVII number sequence
(1926–27): 40–51.
Lubeuf A. Astronomía en Xochicalco.–La Acrópolis de 1 ce
Xochicalo–.B. de la Fuente et al. Ed. México: Instituto de 2 ome
Cultura de Morelos 1995. 211–87. 3 ei, yei
Pâques, V. L’Arbre Cosmique dans la Pensée Populaire et 4 nahui
dans la Vie Quotidienne du Nord-ouest Africain. Paris: 5 macuilli
Institut d’Ethnologie, 1964. 6 chicuace (5) +l
Pietschmann, R. Ueber die Kanarischen Zahlworte. Zeits- 7 chicome (5) +2
chrift für Ethnologie XI (1879): 377–91. 8 chicuei (5) +3
Prasse, K. -G. Manuel de Grammaire Touaregue (Tahaggart). 9 chiconahui (5) +4
Vol. 2 (IV-V). Nom. Copenhague: Akademisk Forlag, 1974. 10 matlactli
Servier, J. Les Portes de l’Année. Rites et Symboles. Paris:
11 matlactli once 10 +1
Robert Laffont, 1962.
12 matlactli omome 10 +2
---. Tradition et Civilisation Berbères. Les Portes de l’Année,
2e. ed. Monaco: Rocher, 1985. 13 matlactli omei 10 +3
Verneau, R. Habitations, sépultures et lieux sacrés des anciens 14 matlactli onnahui 10 +4
canariens. Revue d’Ethnographie 8 (1889): 221–72. http:// 15 caxtolli
gallica bnf.fr/document?o=N103585 16 caxtolli once 15 + 1
17 caxtolli omome 15 + 2
18 caxtolli omei 15 + 3
19 caxtolli onnahui 15 + 4
20 cempoalli one score
30 cempoalli ommatlactli 20 + 10
Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics 37 cempoalli oncaxtolli 20 + 15 + 2
omome
40 ompoalli 2 × 20
60 eipoalli 3 × 20
M ICHAEL P. C LOSS 100 macuilpoalli 5 × 20
400 tzontli
The tribal records of the Aztecs indicate that they left 401 centzontli once (1 × 400) + 1
their legendary homeland in AD 1168 and founded 405 centzontli onmacuilli (1 × 400) + 5
their capital Tenochtitlan (present day Mexico City) in 500 centzontli ipan macuilpoalli (1 × 400) + (5 × 20)
1325. By the fifteenth century, their capital had become 8,000 cenxiquipilli 1 × 8,000
the center of an expansionist empire. When Cortés
arrived in 1519, Tenochtitlan dominated all other cities
and had reached the height of its power and magnifi-
cence. The language of the Aztecs, Nahuatl, is still
spoken today in Central Mexico. An overview of the
Nahuatl number sequence is given in Table 1.
The term for five, macuilli, derives from maitl
“hand”, cui “to take” and pilli “fingers”. It means
something like “fingers taken with the hand”. The term
for ten, matlactli, comes from maitl “hand” and tlactli
“torso”. The term for 15 is a new basic word for which
there is no known etymology. The vigesimal nature of Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics. Fig. 1 Aztec numerals:
the number system clearly shows up in the introduction (a) 1; (b) 20; (c) 400; (d) 8,000 (Drawing by Closs).
of new basic terms for 400 and 8,000. The word for
400, tzontli, means “hair” or “growth of garden herbs”.
In either case, it signifies multitude or abundance. The tzontli, “hair” or “growth of garden herbs”. Similarly,
word for 8,000, xiquipilli, refers to a “bag of cacao the sign for 8,000 reflects the word for that number,
beans”. xiquipilli, “bag of cacao beans”.
The Aztec had written numerals for the first four A tally of these four numerals was used to represent
vigesimal powers: 200 = 1, 201 = 20, 202 = 400 and other numbers. Thus, quantities from 1 to 19 were
203 = 8,000. These symbols are shown in Fig. 1: (a) a represented by the appropriate number of dots or circles.
dot represents the unit 1; (b) a flag represents 20; (c) a In the same way, multiples of 20 less than 400 were
hank of hair or garden herb represents 400; (d) a bag of represented by repeating the sign for 20 as many times as
cacao beans is used for 8,000. It can be seen that the necessary. Similarly, the symbols for 400 and 8,000
symbol for 400 reflects the word for that number, were repeated to form multiples of 400 and multiples

of 8,000, respectively. The largest number I have seen
recorded with these numerals occurs in the Vatican
Codex. It is composed of two signs for 8,000 and 9 signs
for 400 yielding (2 × 8,000) + (9 × 400) = 19,600.
Numerals are found in a variety of contexts. One of
the most common of these is as numerical coefficients
in calendar dates. The Aztecs, along with other
Mesoamerican cultures, employed two major calendri-
cal cycles, a sacred almanac of 260 days called the
tonalpohualli and an annual calendar of 365 days. The
tonalpohualli was constructed from a sequence of
numbers from 1 to 13 paired with a sequence of 20
day names. The 260-day and the 365-day calendars
were combined so that each day could be specified by
both a sacred date and an annual date. Since the least
common multiple of 260 and 365 is 18,980 (= 52 × 365),
the combined cycle of the two calendars repeats after
52 years of 365 days each. This 52-year period, known
as the xiuhmolpilli “sacred bundle,” played a significant
role in Aztec religious life.
A given 365-day year was designated by the sacred
almanac name of its 360th day. We refer to this name
day of the year as the year bearer. Because of the
structure of the calendar, only four day names could
function as year bearers. The 13 numerical coefficients
with the 4 day names yield 52 year bearers, one for
each year in the 52 year period. In the Aztec codices
and stone monuments, such years are frequently
named. In these cases, the numerical coefficients are
represented by a tally of from 1 to 13 small circles.
Examples of the year bearer dates, 13 Rabbit and eight
Reed, are shown in Fig. 2a and 2b.
The Aztecs also used numerals in chronological
counts which varied from a few days to thousands of
years. One section of the Mendocino Codex gives the
different stages in the education that a boy or girl
receives from its parents. The tasks which children
must learn are depicted and their daily food ration is
shown by a tally of tortillas that appears over their
heads. The ages are indicated by a simple tally of
blue disks representing the number of years. These run
from three up to 14 as one progresses through the
manuscript. The corresponding daily ration rises from
half a maize cake to two per day. The largest chrono-
logical interval of this type is depicted in another portion
of the Mendocino Codex where an elderly male and
female are shown drinking a fermented beverage denied
to those who are younger. Both persons are seventy
years old and their age is indicated by a tally of ten blue
disks together with three disks marked with the flag
symbol for 20 as shown in Fig. 2c.
The Vatican Codex contains other chronological
counts which measure far larger intervals. A count
which refers to the years of the second age of the world
is shown in Fig. 2d. Each of the cross-hatched disks
with hair on top is blue in the original and represents a
Mathematics: Aztec mathematics 1369
Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics. Fig. 2 Contexts of
Aztec numeral usage. Calendar dates (year bearers): (a) 13
Rabbit; (b) eight Reed. Chronological counts: (c) 70 years;
(d) 5,206 years. Tribute records: (e) 100 copper hatchets; (f)
1,200 coarse clay pots; (g) 8,000 balls of unrefined copal
(incense) wrapped in palm leaves (Drawing by Closs).
period of 400 years, being a conflation of the standard
blue disk for the 365-day period and the numeral for M
400. (In this regard, recall that the Aztec term for 400 is
tzontli, “hair”.) In the upper row is a tally of six smaller
disks marking 6 years. The total count measures a
period of (13 × 400) + 6 = 5,206 years.
Some of the Aztec codices contain lists in which the
quantities of the various tribute items to be received
from conquered towns are recorded. In these documents,
the towns are represented by hieroglyphic toponyms,
the tribute items by hieroglyphic signs, and the
quantities by numerals or by a simple tally of the items.
If the total is less than 20, the item is often represented by
a simple tally of the sign for the object itself or by a
single depiction of the tribute item with an attached tally
of numerals. For larger totals, a combination of the two
types of tallies is often used. Some examples of tribute
records are shown in Fig. 2e–g.
In the land documents of the Texcocan Aztecs a more
concise and sophisticated system of numerical notation
was employed. It was used for recording the measure-
ments of perimeters and areas of land holdings in at least
two locations in the Valley of Mexico. The system made
use of only four symbols – a vertical tally stroke, a
bundle of five strokes linked at the top, a dot and a corn
glyph (cintli) – and position to indicate the value of
measurements (Harvey and Williams 1980, 1986).
An example from the Códice de Santa Maria
Asunción, dating from around 1545, is illustrated in
1370 Mathematics: Aztec mathematics
Fig. 3. The land record is divided into three parts. The
first section (tlacatlacuiloli, tlacanyotl) contains a
census by household. The name for each head of
household is written in glyphic form beside a
conventional symbol for household head. In the present
example, the tlacatlacuiloli shows the head Pedro, his
wife Juana, their two young daughters Ana and Martha,
and the head’s younger brother, Juan Pantli, his wife
Maria and their son Balthasar. The shaded heads
indicate that the individual is deceased.
The second section (milcocoli) consists of a record of
land parcels associated with each household. In this
section, the scribe drew the approximate shape of each
field. The measurement of each side was recorded
using lines and dots, a line equal to one linear unit and a
dot equal to 20. In the Texcocan area, the usual unit of
linear measure was the quahuitl of approximately
2.5 m. Units less than one quahuitl were indicated by
symbols such as a hand, an arrow, or a heart. The
modern equivalents of these signs can only be
estimated at present. In addition to recording linear
measurements around the field perimeters, each field
contains a hieroglyph in the center which indicates the
type of soil. In particular, the milcocoli section for our
example records the approximate shape, perimeter
measurements, and soil type of four fields belonging to
the household, two to the household head and two to
his brother. The hand glyph in the first field indicates a
fraction of a quahuitl.
The third section (tlahuelmantli) is a second record
of the same lands as in the milcocoli section. However,
in this case, the lands are shown in a stylized form as
rectangles of the same size. Interestingly, the Nahuatl
Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics. Fig. 3 A land record
from the Codice de Santa Maria Asuncion (Drawing by Closs
from Harvey and Williams 1986).
term tlahuelmantli literally means “smoothed, leveled,
equalized.” The majority of these fields have a
protuberance in the upper right-hand corner. In addition
to the standardized field shapes, the placement of
numbers in the tlahuelmantli is different from in the
milcocoli. The numerical quantities using lines and
dots are entered either in the center or on the bottom
line of the rectangle and in the protuberance. When
numbers, never exceeding 19, are entered on the
bottom line, a cintli glyph occurs near the top border of
the rectangle. In addition, most fields contain a number
ranging from 1 to 19 in the upper right corner of the
protuberance. It has been determined that these
numbers report the area of the field in square quahuitl
by use of positional notation.
The system of recording area is dependent on three
separate registers. The first register is located in the
upper right protuberance and is used to record a unit
count from 0 to 19. When the value of this register
is 0, the protuberance is left empty or is not drawn.
Otherwise, 1 to 19 strokes are recorded with groups
of five being bundled together by a connecting line. The
second register is the bottom line of the rectangle. It
is used to record from 1 to 19 multiples of 20 (the
vigesimal numbers from 20 to 380) by using a simple
tally of 1 to 19 strokes. The third register is in the central
portion of the rectangle. It is used to express higher
multiples of 20, that is multiples of 20 which are greater
than or equal to 400. In this register, a dot has value
400 and a stroke has value 20. The second and third
registers are never used concurrently. If there is no entry
in the third register, the cintli glyph is drawn toward the
top of the rectangle. This may signify 0 in that register.
In order to compute the area, the number in the second or
third register is multiplied by 20 and added to the
number in the first register.
In the example under consideration, the length of the
sides, in quahuitl, of the four fields in the milcocoli
section and the area, in square quahuitl, of the
corresponding fields in the tlahuelmantli section is
shown in Table 2.
The problem of how the areas in the tlahuelmantli
were determined remains to be resolved. In general, the
area of a quadrilateral cannot be determined from the
Mathematics: Aztec Mathematics. Table 2 The length of
the sides, in quahuitl, of the four fields in the milcocoli
section and the area, in square quahuitl, of the corresponding
fields in the tlahuelmantli section
Sides Area
Field 1 39, 15, 39, 15+ (31 × 20) + 4 = 624
Field 2 25, 8, 26, 8 (10 × 20) + 0 = 200
Field 3 38, 9, 39, 8 (16 × 20) + 13 = 333
Field 4 20, 9, 20, 8 (9 × 20) + 0 = 180
 Mathematics in China 1371

lengths of its sides. As a result, the information in the

milcocoli section is not sufficient to obtain the true
areas of the fields.

See also: ▶Calendars

References
Harvey, Herbert R. and Barbara J. Williams. Aztec
Arithmetic: Positional Notation and Area Calculation.
Science 210 (1980): 499–505.
---. Decipherment and Some Implications of Aztec Numerical
Glyphs. Native American Mathematics. Ed. Michael P.
Closs. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1986. 237–59.
Payne, Stanley E. and Michael P. Closs. A Survey of Aztec
Numbers and Their Uses. Native American Mathematics.
Ed. Michael P. Closs. Austin: University of Texas Press,
1986. 213–35.

Mathematics in China

A NDREA E BERHARD -B RÉARD Mathematics in China. Fig. 1 Solving a cubic equation

with counting rods as shown in Hua Hengfang, Xue suan
Number System and Calculation Tools bitan, 1885.
Archaeologic finds from the Shang dynasty (fourteenth
to eleventh century BCE) show the earliest number M
symbols inscribed on bones and tortoise shells. By
then, different decimal and sexagesimal systems were in
use. The use of rod-numerals is also attested on coins as
early as from the Wang Mang period (9–23 AD). These
are related to the instruments in use. For calculations,
numbers were represented on a calculation surface by
counting rods. The representation follows a decimal
positional notation, where nine different signs for the
numbers from 1 to 10 consist of either vertical or
horizontal bars used to mark units, hundreds, myriads,
etc. or tens, thousands, and other odd powers of ten.
Three hundred twenty-six for example was thus put
down in the following way: III = T. For negative
numbers, black instead of red counting rods were used.
In printed records (from the eleventh century onwards)
they were marked by an oblique bar (Fig. 1).
“Brush calculations” written on paper and the abacus
were widely spread by the sixteenth century, but the
latter may have existed one or two centuries earlier.
Procedures linked to abacus calculation are mostly
written in versified form for easy memorization, and
historians have shown how these evolved out of earlier
procedures for counting rods (Fig. 2).

Textual Sources
The scope of research into the history of mathematics in Mathematics in China. Fig. 2 An abacus as represented
China today is determined by the available source in Cheng Dawei, Suanfa tongzong, 1592.
1372 Mathematics in China
material transmitted to us. The early beginnings of
mathematics are closely connected to astronomy. With
its non-geometric formal methodology, astronomy in
China was oriented towards calendrical calculations
and numerical lists, but less concerned with the design
of geometric models. The positions of the celestial
bodies could be determined by a system of numerical
constants derived from observation, interpolation
algorithms and cyclical theories. But their choice was
also influenced by numerological considerations and
political events.
One of the earliest texts that has been preserved is the
Zhoubi suanjing (Mathematical Classic of the Gnomon
of Zhou) compiled towards the end of the first century
AC. It is closely related to the cosmographic doctrine of
the “Heaven as a chariot-cover” (Gaitian shuo), which
was popular during the Han dynasty (206 BCE–220
AC). Among historians, it is mainly known for its proof
of a statement analogous to the Pythagorean theorem
(Fig. 3).
When the court astro loger Li Chunfeng (602–670)
and his staff included the Zhoubi and its commentaries
in a compilation of Suanjing shi shu (Ten Books of
Mathematical Classics) for the government academy of
the Tang dynasty, the text was elevated to the status of a
mathematical canon as were the other nine contempo-
rary or earlier treatises. The collection was first printed
by the imperial library of the Northern Song in 1084,
which is partly still extant from a 1231 reprint.
Mathematics in China. Fig. 3 Proof of Pythagorean
theorem from the Zhoubi suanjing.
But there is another context in which mathematics
played an important role and which shaped its methods
of calculation and notation in China. The administra-
tive tradition of registering numbers in the form of
tables involved the calculation of the totals of sums or
provided multiplication tables for fiscal purposes.
Archaeologists found six manuscript sources, which
attest of such mathematical activities, at the beginning
of the twentieth century in the Buddhist Dunhuang
Caves in Northwest China. They date from the 6th to
the tenth century and are now stored in the National
libraries of France and Great Britain. One of the
manuscripts for example, which gives the date of
the second year of the Guangshun era (952), tabulates
the products in mu for the surfaces of all rectangular
fields with the lengths of a side less or equal than 60 bu
(1 mu = 240 square bu).
Equally important for our understanding of mathe-
matical activities in early China is the recent excavation
of a manuscript on 190 bamboo strips in a Chinese
nobleman’s tomb that was closed no later than 186
BCE. It represents the earliest document that has
survived and provides us with a text outside the
government sanctioned Ten Books. The stated problems
and procedures show a certain connection to the
foundational Jiu zhang suan shu (Nine Chapters on
Mathematical Procedures) and its commentary by Liu
Hui (263 AC), which were part of the Ten Books, yet
this connection still needs to be explored.
The commentaries to the now still extant Song
dynasty edition of the Nine Chapters also contain
fragments ascribed to other mathematicians. Zu Geng
(late fifth century to early sixth century), son of the
famous Tang mathematician and astronomer, Zu
Chongzhi (429–500), obviously knew Liu Hui’s
commentary, when he wrote his “sub”-commentary
on the calculation of the volume of a sphere. Later
editions contain commentaries by Jia Xian (first half of
the eleventh century), which are based on the now lost
Huangdi jiu zhang suanjing xicao (Detailed [calcula-
tion] sketches for the Yellow Emperor’s Mathematical
Classic in Nine Chapters).
Among other preserved Song dynasty commentaries
on the Nine Chapters, we find Yang Hui’s Xiangjie jiu
zhang suanfa (Detailed Explanations of the Nine
Chapters on Mathematical Methods) printed in 1261
and in 1408 for the copies of the Ming dynasty imperial
library named the Yongle dadian (Great Encyclopedia
of Yongle reign). The evidential research scholar Dai
Zhen (1724–1777) compiled Supplements of Diagrams
and Errata to the Nine Chapters on Mathematical
Procedures when he worked on the edition of
traditional Chinese mathematical sources to be includ-
ed in the imperially commissioned Siku quanshu
(Complete Library of the Four Treasuries). Since Dai
Zhen’s compilation project of the Ten Books of

Mathematical Classics, more than ten other editions of
the Nine Chapters have been discovered.
The Foundational Mathematical Content of the
Ten Books
Wang Xiaotong’s Ji gu suanjing (Mathematical Classic
in Continuation of the Ancients, compiled earlier than
626) played an important role in the development
of numerical procedures for the solution of algebraic
equations. It contains 20 problems, the first one
of which concerns a calendrical calculation; problems
2–5 concern the construction of a geometric solid;
problems 6–16 consider the construction of different
types of granaries, and the (partially incomplete)
problems 17–20 deal with right-angled triangles. All
the procedures to solve problems 2–20 involve the
solution of a quadratic or a cubic equation, which gives
the treatise a certain coherence. Given the daily motion
of the sun and the moon, the position of the sun on the
ecliptic at the time of the new moon, and the time lapse
between new year and new moon, Wang Xiaotong’s
first problem asks for the position of the moon on the
ecliptic at the time of the New Year’s new moon which
should have ideally happened at midnight of the first
day of the 11th month.
Commentaries by Chen Luan (fl. 566) and Li
Chunfeng on Sunzi suanjing (Master Sun’s Mathemati-
cal Classic, late fourth century) mentioned in the Tang
dynastic annals are unfortunately lost. But Master Sun’s
Mathematical Classic itself is the earliest document on
arithmetical procedures in China. It describes the
positional arrangement of numbers represented by
bamboo sticks, and gives detailed multiplication and
division algorithms for these tools laid out on the
positions of a counting board. The textual structure of
the first part of the treatise is distinct from the usual
arrangement in problem, answer and solution proce-
dure. In sequential order, measures, weights, large
numbers, and standard measure vessels are defined,
before expounding the methods and positions for
calculations with counting rods. The texts state in
general terms, procedures for multiplication, and as its
inverse counterpart, the procedure for division, followed
by an ordered numerical list of multiplications, division,
and summations.
Zhang Qiujian suanjing (Zhang Qiujian’s Mathe-
matical Classic), probably written between 466 and
485, can – taken in a large sense – be interpreted as a
commentary to the Nine Chapters, since it recycles
certain problems, for which the numerical solution is
described through “detailed calculation sketches” by
the Sui dynasty astronomer Liu Xiaosun (mid-sixth
century). But Zhang Qiujian’s Mathematical Classic
also contains problem types which in later texts become
themselves canonical models. For example, there is the
Mathematics in China 1373
“one hundred fowls” problem, in which somebody is to
buy one hundred fowls for one hundred monetary units
of several kinds. This requires the solution of an
indeterminate system of equations. What is character-
istic for this text is that problems from the Nine
Chapters are often given in inverse formulation, which
leads to inverse algorithms. In many cases this requires
the solution of a cubic equation, which Zhang Qiujian
solves with an extended procedure to the algorithm for
root extraction found in the Nine Chapters. From the
preface one can deduce, that Zhang Qiujian was
familiar with other treatises from the Ten Classics and
that his main mathematical activity was to rewrite their
procedures. His textual work on Antiquity was thus not
only limited to commenting on earlier writings, as he
also combined and rewrote many of the problems
found in the Nine Chapters, which gave rise to new
mathematical objects.
The Song Yuan Period: Apogee of Mathematical
Tradition in China
Judging from the available sources, the thirteenth
century was a highly creative period for the develop-
ment of mathematics in China. Numerous references to
now lost treatises show that it was also one of the most
productive periods as concerns the publication of
mathematical treatises, although now only eight works
by four mathematicians in all survive from the late M
Song to the early Yuan period in China. These are:
1. Qin Jiushao. Shushu jiuzhang (A Mathematical
Book in Nine Chapters), 1247
2. Li Ye. Ceyuan haijing (Sea Mirror of Circle
Measurements), 1248
3. Li Ye. Yigu yanduan (Calculating with Segments in
Extension of the Ancients), 1259
4. Yang Hui. Xiangjie jiuzhang suanfa (Detailed
Explanations to the Mathematical Methods of the
Nine Chapters), 1261
5. Yang Hui. Riyong suanfa (Mathematical Methods
for Daily Use), 1262
6. Yang Hui. Yang Hui suanfa (Yang Hui’s Mathemat-
ical Methods), 1274/1275
7. Zhu Shijie. Suanxue qimeng (Introduction to
Mathematical Learning), 1299
8. Zhu Shijie. Siyuan yujian (Jade Mirror of Four
Elements), 1303
Yang Hui’s writings record the traces of a geometric
method that is at the basis of the algebraic method of
the “heavenly element” (tian yuan), a method which
circulated among authors in Northwest China. The
latter allowed Li Ye to solve equations of higher degree
in one unknown. To do so, the numerical coefficients
were laid out in (ascending or descending) order on a
calculation surface with counting rods. The position of
1374 Mathematics in China

the constant term was either marked with the character

yuan (element), or the coefficient of the linear term was
marked with the character tai (supreme). In that way,
the significance of each position was determined and
the solution procedure could be performed.
According to the solution procedures cited in one of
Yang Hui’s texts, the Tian mu bi lei cheng chu jie fa
(Simple Methods for Multiplication and Division with
Analogous Examples to the Categories of Field
Measurement, 1275), the algebraic tian yuan method
evolved out of considerations of planes whose surfaces
are known. In the related problem solutions, these
surfaces are thought of as composed of segments,
which are constructed with the given magnitudes of the
problem and are in argumenative relation with the
coefficients of the quadratic equation that needs to be
solved.
In 1299 Zhu Shijie uses the tian yuan method
systematically in the last chapter of his Suanxue qimeng
(Introduction to Mathematical Learning) in diverse
problems for plane surfaces and also for the first time
for volumes. Only the first seven problems of that
chapter do not require the layout of the coefficients for
a polynomial equation in one unknown. These
problems deal with the “opening of the square” that
is the extraction of the square root of a given surface,
Mathematics in China. Fig. 4 The arithmetic triangle as
volume, or high-dimensional surface-product. In prob- shown in Zhu Shijie’s Siyuan yujian, 1303.
lem 5 this requires the “opening of the triple multiplied
side of a square,” i.e., the extraction of the fourth square
root of 1129458 511/625.
formulated by two independent equations in one
In the Jade Mirror of Four Elements (1303), famous
unknown each. In China, Zhu Shijie and his precursors
for its earliest known drawing of the arithmetic triangle
were already able to solve such problems (at least
(or Pascal Triangle), Zhu Shijie uses in more than 200
partially) with a method for up to four unknowns, but
problems the tian yuan method to solve equations in
these writings had not made their way into Korea or
one unknown (Fig. 4). These problems were not limited
Japan.
only to applications on lengths of the sides or circum-
Zhu Shijie’s Jade Mirror is now the only preserved
ferences, and surfaces or volumes of geometric figures,
witness of a solution procedure for higher degree
but they also explored discrete cuts and accumulations
equation systems with up to four unknowns. The first
that gave rise to investigations into arithmetical series.
unknown remains the “heavenly unknown” (tian yuan),
Zhu Shijie’s solution procedures, however, do not
the other three are the “earthly” (di yuan), “human” (ren
contain any longer step-by-step deduction of the layout
yuan), and “material unknown” (wu yuan). The
of coefficients. He merely indicates the choice of the
coefficients of these unknowns are then laid out on a
unknown and the numerical values of the coefficients,
counting board as shown in the following illustration:
which one obtains by an elimination method, related to
the searching of “equal [surface-] products” (ru ji). d m  wk
..

..
d 2  wk
..
d  wk
..
wk
..
wk  r
..
wk  r 2
..

.
wk  rl
..
The tian yuan method had a great impact on the . . . . . . . .. .
development of mathematics in other East Asian d m  w2  d 2  w2 d  w2 w2 w2  r w2  r 2  w2  r l
dm  w  d2  w dw w wr w  r2  w  rl
countries like Korea and Japan and gave rise to a large dm  d2 d tw tai
dr
r r2  rl
number of commentaries due to the transmission of t  dm  t  d2 td t tr t  r2  t  rl
Zhu Shijie’s earlier book, the Introduction to Mathe- t2  dm  t2  d 2 t d
2
t2 t r
2
t 2  r2  t2  rl
.. . .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
matical Learning. In Korea it was reprinted in 1433 . .. . . . . . . .
under the reign of King Sejong (r. 1418–1450), and tn  dm  tn  d 2 tn  d tn tn  r t n  r2  t2  rl
further transmitted into Japan by the end of the This way of representation naturally limited the
sixteenth century. Commentators then also started to possibilities of solving certain types of equations. On
see the limits of the tian yuan method, in particular for the one hand, this is because not all theoretically
problems with two unknowns that could not be possible products of unknowns could be represented;

on the other hand, a spatial extension was impossible.
The possibilities of a two-dimensional layout were
restricted to the four cardinal directions and thus to no
more than four unknowns. Besides socio-political
factors that influenced the transmission of mathemati-
cal knowledge and writings in Chinese society this was
probably a structural reason for the end of the
development of the tian yuan method after Zhu Shijie.
“Minor Traditions” as reflected in Printed
Sources on Arithmetic
The commercialization of print since the Song dynasty
brought about several other texts that were not printed
under official auspices. The most widely circulating
book was Cheng Dawei’s Suanfa tongzong (Systematic
Treatise on Arithmetical Methods, 1592), which was
reprinted and very influential in Japan in the seven-
teenth century. It is structured into chapters according
to the canonical categories of the Nine Chapters and
three chapters on “difficult problems” (Fig. 5).
At the very end of Cheng Dawei’s bestseller, we find
a list of books of the time, but unfortunately nearly all of
them are lost. But we learn from one comment and from
a preface to Ding Ju’s Ding Ju suanfa (Arithmetical
Methods, 1355) that they might have been part of what
was considered a “low” arithmetical tradition that
coexisted in parallel with the tradition of the Nine
Chapters. This parallels the historiographic trend to
Mathematics in China. Fig. 5 Difficult problems in the
Suanfa Tongzong, 1592.
Mathematics in China 1375
portray the Ming dynasty as a time of decline in scientific
activity. Since the tradition was characterized by
arithmetical procedures for abacus calculations, and
often put in versified form, historians have paid little
attention to Ming dynasty treatises and interpreted their
content as folklore mathematics of little originality. Only
Roger Hart has so far taken an opposite position on Ming
dynasty trends. By analyzing Zhu Zaiyu’s (1536–1611)
Yuelü quan shu (Complete Compendium of Music and
Pitch) and in particular the mathematics presented in his
New Explanation of the Theory of Calculation (Suanxue
xinshuo, engraved in 1604), he claims that Zhu’s
mathematics is perhaps some of the most sophisticated
found in extant texts from the Ming dynasty. There the
equal temperament of the musical scale is calculated to
25 decimal places using nine abacuses.
Foreign Influence in the late Imperial Era
The first wave of transmission of some elements of
the European sciences to China, which started in the
late sixteenth century, was a systematic enterprise of
the Jesuit mission, who sought the support of
the elite to evangelize from the top down. Matteo
Ricci (1552–1610), the founder of the mission,
identified the mathematical sciences as a field in
which Chinese literati circles were interested. He
translated, together with one of his convert students
in mathematics, astronomy, hydraulics, and geography
M
Xu Guangqi (1562–1633), the first six books of
Euclid’s Elements (Jihe yuanben, 1607). The transla-
tion was based on Christoph Clavius’ (1538–1612)
Latin edition and commentary (Rome, 1574) and
aroused Chinese mathematicians and even the
Emperor Kangxi’s (r. 1662–1722) interest in Euclidean
geometry (Fig. 6).
Several other treatises on geometry, trigonometry
and methods of root extraction were then written in
syncretistic style by Chinese literati, who attempted
creatively to come to grips with the new learning. A
series of mathematical textbooks was also translated
into Chinese and eventually formed the basis of an
imperially commissioned compilation on mathematics,
the Shuli jingyun (Essential Principles of Mathematics,
1723), which played an important role into the mid-
nineteenth century.
A second wave of translations of mathematical
books related to foreign presence in China following
the treaties concluding the Opium Wars. Protestant
missionaries, foreign employees of the Imperial
Maritime Customs Service connected to its Foreign
Language Institute (Tongwenguan) in Beijing and
private foreign enterprises to promulgate Western
sciences in China were the driving agents in that
movement in the second half of the nineteenth century
(Fig. 7).
1376 Mathematics in China

It was during that time that Chinese mathematicians

started to introduce symbolic algebra into a renewed
mathematical discourse. In the assimilation and
translation of works on algebra, the late Qing
mathematician Li Shanlan (1811–1882) played a key
role. Not only he did derive new summation formulas
for finite series based on traditional procedures (known
as Li Jen-Shu’s formula) and write commentaries on
traditional algebraic methods, but also he was instru-
mental in the transmission of differential and integral
calculus. In 1859 he translated, together with the
British missionary Alexander Wylie (1815–1887),
Elias Loomis’ (1811–1889) Elements of Analytical
Geometry and of Differential and Integral Calculus
(1851) and Augustus De Morgan’s (1806–1871) The
Elements of Algebra Preliminary to the Differential
Calculus (1835) which were reprinted in Japan in 1872
(Fig. 8).
Both algebra and calculus quickly found their way
into late Qing curricula of mathematical education, in
contrast to probability theory and statistics, which
remained two applied fields of mathematics that had
to wait for the 1930s – and for returned students
educated abroad – to be fully understood. By then, the
Mathematics in China. Fig. 6 Book 6 of the Jihe yuanben,
1607.
Chinese algorithmic traditional style closely related
to the written classical language was abandoned. Texts
were written in vernacular language and algebraic

Mathematics in China. Fig. 7 Biography of Blaise Pascal

in the Scientific and Industrial Magazine Gezhi huibian, Mathematics in China. Fig. 8 Syncretistic symbolism in
1880. Hua Hengfang, Xue suan bitan, 1885.

symbolism was adopted as the universal scientific
language. China’s mathematicians for the first time had
an institutional base, the Academy of Science’s
(Zhongguo kexue yuan) Mathematical Institute and
several research centers in universities, where the
emphasis was on number theory, operations research
and closely related to it statistics and probability.
The antirightist campaign of 1957 and the Cultural
Revolution at its peak in 1966 involved a major
disruption of intellectual activities in China. At the
1978 National Science Conference, Deng Xiaoping
again allowed for the progress of all aspects of
mathematical research by emphasizing science as one
of the “four modernizations.”
Mathematics Education in China
Mathematics, together with rites, music, archery,
charioteering, and calligraphy, formed the Six Arts as
defined by traditional Confucian learning. We know
that Li Chunfeng’s compilation project, the Ten Books
of Mathematical Classics, was used as a textbook for
the Mathematical Academy (Suanxue guan) founded
by the Emperor Gaozong in 656. This academy was
part of the “directorate of education” (Guo zi jian)
responsible for the training of government officials. A
“School of mathematics for the national youth” (Suan li
guozi xue) had already existed since the Sui dynasty. It
was taken over by the Tang, but we do not know about
its curriculum and the manuals that were used. In
Imperial China, there was no such profession as a
mathematician; knowledge was mainly transmitted
orally from teacher to pupil in private academies. We
have little or no biographical information on those who
wrote mathematical books except for court astronomers
or those who held a government position, like Qin
Jiushao in the Song administration. It was only during
the late nineteenth century educational reforms that
mathematics became part of the standard curriculum in
schools and the first universities in China. By then,
some government supported students returned from
Japan, Europe, or the United States and served as
teachers for Western sciences. But it was really only in
the 1930s that effective schools were built up and that
mathematical research started to be systematically
institutionalized.
See also: ▶Pi in Chinese Mathematics, ▶Algebra
in Chinese Mathematics, ▶Computation: Chinese
Counting Rods, ▶Liu Hui and the Jiuzhang Suanshu,
▶Sundials, ▶Li Shanlan, ▶Guo Shoujing, ▶Zhoubi
suanjing, ▶Li Zhi, ▶Yang Hui, ▶Decimal System,
▶Gou-Gu Theorem, ▶Shen Gua, ▶Zhu Shijie,
▶Calendar, ▶Geomancy in China, ▶Divination in
China, ▶Qin Jiushao, ▶Abacus
Mathematics in China 1377
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Shuxue juan. A Compendium of Chinese Classics of
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Zhenzhou: Henan jiaoyu chubanshe, 1993.
Jing, Yushu, ed. Zhongguo lidai suanxue jicheng. Collected
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Jinan: Shandong jiaoyu chubanshe, 1994.
Peng, Hao. Zhangjiashan Hanjian «Suan Shu Shu» zhushi.
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Cullen, Christopher. Astronomy and Mathematics in Ancient
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Mathematics in China during the Late 19th Century. PhD
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---. Tantian sanyou (Three Chatting Friends). Taipei:
Mingwen shuju, 1993.
Jami, Catherine. Les méthodes rapides pour la trigonométrie
et le rapport précis du cercle (1774). Tradition chinoise
et apport occidental en mathématiques. Mémoires de
l’Institut des Hautes Études Chinoises; XXXII. Paris:
Collège de France, 1990.
Lam, Lay Yong. A critical study of the ‘Yang Hui suan fa’:
a thirteenth century mathematical treatise. Singapore:
Singapore University Press, 1977.
Lam, Lay Yong and Ang Tian Se. Fleeting Footsteps:
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of Chinese Mathematics. Shenyang: Liaoning renmin
chubanshe, 1984.
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---. Zhongguo shuxue shi. A History of Chinese Mathematics.
4 vols. Nanjing: Jiangsu jiaoyu chubanshe, 1997.
Li, Zhaohua. Zhongguo shuxue shi. A History of Chinese
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Li, Yan and Du Shiran. Chinese Mathematics: A Concise
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Libbrecht, Ulrich. Chinese Mathematics in the Thirteenth
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Qing Dynasties. Nanjing: Jiangsu jiaoyu chubanshe, 1990.
Qian, Baocong, ed. Song Yuan shuxue shi lunwenji. Collected
Papers on the History of Mathematics During the Song and
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Shen, Kangshen. Zhongsuan daolun. An Introduction
to Chinese Mathematics. Shanghai: Shanghai jiaoyu
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Comprehensive Series on the History of Chinese Mathe-
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Wu, Wenjun, ed. Zhongguo shuxue shi lunwenji. Collected
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---. Zhongguo shuxue shi daxi. Comprehensive Series on the
History of Chinese Mathematics. 10 vols. Beijing: Beijing
shifan daxue chubanshe, 1998 (Vol. I: Shanggu dao Xi
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zhang suan shu. The Ancient Chinese Mathematical
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Ed. Shen Kangshen, 1998; Dong Han San Guo. Eastern
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Qing zhongqi dao Qing mo. From the Mid-Qing Period to
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Zhongguo suanxue shumu huibian. Bibliography of
Traditional Chinese Mathematical Texts. Ed. Li Di, 2000).
Mathematics in Egypt
J AMES R ITTER
By “Egyptian mathematics,” we understand the
mathematics developed in Ancient Egypt between the
end of the fourth millennium BCE, when a centralized
state came into being in the Nile Valley and a system of
writing was invented, and 332 BCE, when Egypt was
conquered by Alexander the Great and Greek cultural
elements entered into the hitherto fairly autonomous
development of Egyptian civilization. During these
3,000 years, the role of mathematics remained of
central importance; the Egyptian educational system
was geared principally to produce scribes who could
count and calculate the work, rations, land, and grain of
the State and the private landowner.
The judgments of Egyptian mathematics ordinarily
to be found in histories of science fall into two main
schools: either they are dismissive, claiming that
mathematics in Egypt was merely of a “practical” or
“trial and error” nature; or they are laudatory in the
extreme, the Egyptians being seen as the precursors and
inventors of all important concepts in mathematics. In
fact, these two judgments share an identical miscon-
ception about mathematics itself, namely that it really
exists only insofar as it corresponds to a particular
Western image of theorem and proof. However recent
interest in alternative (algorithmic and effective)
methods in mathematics, as well as a better under-
standing of the complex and sophisticated nature of
Egyptian civilization, has opened the way for a deeper
comprehension of mathematics in the Nile Valley.
The real question is what mathematics represented
for the Egyptians themselves, what they aimed at, what
structural, intellectual, and sociological activities were
connected with their mathematics. The Egyptians left
us no philosophical or self-reflexive works comment-
ing on their own activity; the nature and role of
Egyptian mathematics must be pieced together from
such texts as administrative and accounting documents,
historical annals, and, above all, school texts.
We have, in fact, astonishingly few sources: the
choice of excavation sites and the fragility of papyrus
under humid conditions means that most written
documents come, almost exclusively, from cemeteries
and temples in the desert fringe along the Nile valley
and only rarely from towns or cities in the fertile band
around the Nile and its Delta. In addition, mathematical
texts are particularly rare – some five papyri, mostly
fragmentary, a pair of wooden exercise tablets, and a
small inscribed stone flake. Moreover, with the
exception of the last, all the texts are originals or
copies dating from the same period, the Middle
Kingdom between 2000 and 1700 BCE. The account-
ing documents are a little more plentiful and from a
more balanced time span, but not all have been
published and those that have still await a study of
the mathematical techniques used in their fabrication.
But there are some things that we do know. In Egypt,
there were no centers of mathematical research in the
modern sense, no journals or books exposing new
results. There is not even an Egyptian word for
“mathematics” in our sense: the only two Egyptian

titles of mathematical school books that have come
down to us are “The right method for entering into
things, for knowing everything that is, every obscurity,
…, every secret” (Rhind Mathematical Papyrus) and
“The right method in matters of writing (?)” (Kahun
Papyrus LV.4).
However, Egypt, like almost all societies, needed to
create computational skills, to count and keep track of
the collection and distribution of material wealth.
Indeed, writing in Egypt was created precisely to
make permanent records of these numerical data; the
earliest signs were used to indicate metrological
values along with the titles and proper names of those
from whom came and to whom were to be delivered
this wealth; mathematics and writing were linked from
the very start and were the staple of Egyptian edu-
cational training. In particular, the mathematical texts
we possess – including the Rhind Mathematical
Papyrus – are school textbooks. So it is to the world
of apprentice scribes and their teachers that we must
look for an understanding of Egyptian mathematics.
Numbers
The third millennium had seen the development of
some eight or nine distinct metrological systems – a
discrete system, used for counting individual objects;
a length system; an area system, used for measuring
field surfaces; a distinct system for surfaces of linen; a
capacity system for grain, and a weight system for
measuring precious metals. The signs used to write the
units of each system differed among themselves, as did
the ratio between successive units in each system. In all
cases though the Egyptians used an additive system of
notation, in which a unit was repeated as many times as
necessary to express the value desired.
For example, the discrete system is decimal in structure
while the length system has four fingers to the palm and
seven palms to the cubit. Thus whereas 14 goats would be
written with 1 ten and 4 ones – written – a length of 14
fingers would have three palms and two fingers:
By the time of the Middle Kingdom, there is a
distinct rationalization of these systems. Some, such as
that for linen, simply disappear; some, such as that
for lengths, are simplified. In the mathematical texts,
all arithmetical operations are performed in the dis-
crete system, now employed as a universal calcula-
tional system; an abstract concept of number is born.
The discrete system being decimal, the base 10 became
the standard. A significant part of mathematical
training was devoted not only to learning how to
perform mathematical calculations in the decimal
system but also to mastering the conversions into and
out of the surviving, nondecimal metrological systems.
Mathematics in Egypt 1379
The Mathematical Texts
The careful organization of the mathematical papyri
reflect their pedagogic nature. They are constituted of
numerical tables (to which we shall return) and solved
problems: each problem is expressed in ordinary
language with no symbols aside from the numbers
themselves. The data and the results are given as
concrete numerical values, and the solutions presented
in the form of algorithms, that is a specific sequence of
steps leading to the solution, generally followed by a
numerical verification of the result obtained.
The subjects of the problems in the mathematical
papyri touch on arithmetic calculations involving
distribution of rations, work assignments, and the
conversion of quantities of grain into beer and bread;
mensuration problems involving the determination of
volumes of circular and rectangular containers, areas of
triangular, rectangular, and circular fields, slopes of
pyramidal and conic constructions, and parts of ships,
as well as others. The problems are roughly grouped by
subject but, more precisely, by the type of algorithm
used in their solution. Each group of problems is a
series of exercises in the learning and use of an
algorithm.
A typical example is given by the following Problem
26 of the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus; the words in
red ink in the original are given in bold-face; the
numbering of the steps of the algorithm and phrases in M
square brackets are my additions:
A quantity; its 1/4 is added to it. It becomes 15.
1. Calculate starting from 4; you will make its 1/4: 1.
2. [Add them together.] Total: 5.
3. Calculate starting from 5, to find 15.
\1 5
\2 10
3 is the result.
4. Calculate starting from 3, 4 times.
1 3
2 6
\4 12
12 is the result.
The quantity: 12. Its 1/4: 3. Total: 15.
[Verification]
1 12
[1/2 6]
1/4 3
Total: 15.
It is important, in order to understand Egyptian
mathematics, that each problem in a mathematical text
operates on three distinct levels. The first is the global
strategy used, embodied by the algorithm and is the
same for all problems in a group. In our example it is
1380 Mathematics in Egypt
the common Egyptian method, now called “false
position.” A (false) solution is supposed, in our
example 4; the result of calculation with this value
(steps 1 and 2) is compared to the true answer (step 3)
and the original choice corrected by the necessary
factor (step 4).
The second level is that of arithmetical operations:
addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, square
root extraction, etc., each of which corresponds to one
step of the algorithm. It is introduced by a standardized
formulation and includes a numerical computation. In
our example, step (4) is a multiplication: as always
indicated by “Calculate starting from N, M times”;
likewise, step (3) is a division.
The third level is that of techniques, that is the set of
means for carrying out the operation. Here the Egyptian
scribe had a wide range of choices. For the simple
operations of addition and subtraction (see step 2 in the
example), no details were shown; the scribe was
presumed to be able to do these without such aids. In
the case of multiplication and division, the computa-
tions show what was done.
The multiplication of step (4), in our example, 3 × 4,
is carried out in the following manner: starting with the
first multiplicand, 3, in the right-hand column and 1 in
the left, the scribe seeks the value of the second
multiplicand, 4, in the left-hand column (since this is
multiplication); in this case, the scribe obtains the
columns directly by two successive uses of the same
technique, namely doubling. The 4 is marked and
the answer, 12, read off in the opposite column.
The division of step (3), 15 + 5, is carried out by
putting the divisor 5 in the right-hand column, facing 1,
and then, after a single doubling, finding the dividend,
15, in the right-hand column (since this is division),
the sum of the two entries. Both are checked and the
answer, 3 = 1 + 2, read off as the sum of the
corresponding entries in the left-hand column.
Note that though the two operations, in the particular
case treated here, are the inverse of each other, the only
technique used to effect both of them is doubling.
However, the Egyptian scribe was not limited to this
single technique; others, such as halving (illustrated in
the verification step of our problem), multiplying or
dividing by 10, multiplying by 2/3, inversing, etc. were
equally available. Given a particular arithmetic opera-
tion, the scribe chose the set of techniques appropriate
to the numerical values in play.
Tables and Fractions
Fractions played a particular role in Egyptian mathe-
matics. A fraction was viewed as the inverse of an
integer; there could thus be only one fraction associated
with a given integer N: namely, what we call the “unit
fraction” 1/N – there being a single exception, the
fraction 2/3. These fractions were manipulated in
precisely the same way as integers, using the same
panoply of techniques.
Only one fraction of a given kind could be used
in the writing of a given number. Thus, for example,
the double of the number 1 + 1/5 was not written
2 + 1/5 + 1/5 but rather 2 + 1/3 + 1/15. Finding
such expressions is a centrally difficult problem:
it occurs each time it is necessary to double an
“odd” fraction, calculate two-thirds of a fraction, or
add fractions together. It constitutes the core area
of Egyptian mathematics, and furnishes the content of
Egyptian mathematical tables. Such difficult calcula-
tions could be done once and for all and the results
simply copied and looked up when the need arose in the
solution of a specific problem.
The problems in Egyptian mathematical texts were
chosen in order to cover the domain of the possible by a
network of typical examples, a process which permitted
the student (and later the practicing scribe) to place any
new problem in this framework. The Egyptian
approach to the question of generalization was not
the discovery and application of a “general formula” in
which each case might be enveloped, but rather through
interpolation in a pattern of known results – a method
equally used in some branches of mathematics today.
If Egyptian mathematics is viewed not as a poor
simulacrum of proof-oriented mathematics, but on its
own ground, it will be seen as an adequate and rational
response to the socioeconomic and educational needs of
Egyptian society. Mathematics even provided a model of
a rational practice, equally applicable to other domains,
wherever an efficient mode of action on the world was
needed. Egyptian medical texts, for instance, were
constructed in the same manner, with tables of remedies
and a systematic network of procedural prescriptions.
This approach was not unique to Egypt; one finds
analogous underlying principles at work in the
mathematics of other civilizations, such as Mesopota-
mia, China, and India. It is not a question of borrowing;
the mathematical traditions in question developed too
early and were too widely geographically spread for
this. Rather it shows the success of this algorithmic
approach to the solutions of the problems posed by
sufficiently advanced societies.
These different civilizations differed in their
choices of number system, of modes of writing, of
arithmetical operations, as well as the techniques used
to carry these out. And the differences determined in
turn the very different paths of development that
mathematics knew in each society. If similar needs
led to similar responses on the fundamental level,
the different ways of implementing them created very
different mathematics.
 Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian mathematics and African predecessors – New insights from work sites
See also: ▶Weights and Measures in Egypt
References
Caveing, Maurice. Le statut arithmétique du quartième
égyptien. Histoire de Fractions, Fractions d’Histoire. Ed.
Paul Benoit, Karine Chemla, and Jim Ritter. Basel:
Birkhäuser, 1992.
Chace, Arnold, et al. The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus.
2 vols. Oberlin: Mathematical Association of America,
1927–1929.
Clagett, Marshall. Ancient Egyptian Science: A Source Book.
Vol. 3. Ancient Egyptian Mathematics. Philadelphia:
American Philosophical Society, 1999.
Gillings, Richard. Mathematics in the Time of the Pharaohs.
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1972. Rpt. New York:
Dover, 1982.
Peet, T. Eric. The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus, British
Museum 10057 and 10058. London: Hodder and
Stoughton, 1923. Rpt. Liechtenstein: Kraus, 1970.
Ritter, James. Pratiques de la raison en Mésopotamie et en
égypte aux IIIeet IIemillénaires. Thesis, University of Paris
XIII, 1993.
---. Measure for Measure. Introduction to the History of
Science. Ed. Michel Serres. London: Blackwell, 1995.
Struve, W. W. Mathematischer Papyrus des Staatlichen
Museums der schönen Kunst in Moskau. Berlin: Springer,
1930. Rpt. Würzburg: JAL, 1973.
Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian
Mathematics and African
Predecessors – New Insights
from Work Sites
B EATRICE L UMPKIN
Recent archaeological digs have uncovered Middle
Stone Age (MSA) artifacts that root the origin of
modern behavior in Africa. The MSA dates from
200,000 BP to 40,000 BP (Before the Present). These
recent finds upset the textbook theory that places the
origin of modern behavior in Southern France and
Spain, only 30,000–40,000 years ago. Modern behav-
ior includes abstract thinking and symbolic representa-
tion, essential features of mathematical thinking. It also
includes designing sophisticated tools and making
plans for the future.
Reports of these MSA finds include stone blades from
Kenya by McBrearty (1995), basalt tools from Tanzania
by Adelsberger (2002), barbed harpoon points from the
Democratic Republic of the Congo by Yellen, Brooks
et al. (1995) and engraved designs from South Africa by
Henshilwood et al. (2002). The Kenyan stone blades
came from a formation over 200,000 years old and were
1381
shaped before they were knocked off the rock core
(Gutin 1995). This required planning by toolmakers
who had an abstract picture in their minds of the desired
tools. If the toolmakers were anatomically modern
Homo sapiens, they were among the earliest of their
species. Modern humans are believed to have evolved in
Africa about 150,000–200,000 BP and migrated to
Australia and possibly East Asia by 50,000 BP.
In about 200,000 BP at Laetoli, Tanzania, raw
material used by “archaic” Homo sapiens was trans-
ported from sources at least 20–30 km distant. The
ancient toolmakers made a round trip to obtain the
stone or some type of trade took place. The basalt from
the more distant sites provided a better cutting edge
than the local finer-grained rock. The author of the
study wrote, “…apparently the archaic Homo sapiens of
the Laetoli region comprehended these attributes as
early as 200,000 years ago” (Adelsberger 2002).
At the somewhat later MSA site of Katanda in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo, archaeologist Yellen
was disappointed when he found a barbed harpoon point.
He had hoped the site dated back as far as 70,000 BP. But
the bone point was so finely crafted that it resembled
European harpoon points that were only 14,000 years
old. Disappointment changed to joy when the bone point
was dated to ca. 90,000 BP. The Katanda materials
included barbed bone points, unbarbed points, and a flat
dagger, products of a formal bone industry. Although the
Yellen team used three different techniques to date their
M
finds, some archaeologists continue to dispute the date
(Yellen et al. 1995) (Fig. 1).
However, sophisticated tools may not be enough to
identify modern human behavior. The record was
missing what Christopher Henshilwood et al. described
as “evidence of abstract or depictional images”
(Henshilwood et al. 2002). In 2002, they recovered
two engraved pieces of ochre from MSA layers in
Blombos Cave in South Africa, dated to 77,000 BP.
One piece is inscribed with a design, a row of cross
hatches, framed by two horizontal lines and bisected by
a third. The second piece has fewer lines but indicates
that the design on the first piece is not unique.
Why was the African evidence for sophisticated tool
technology in the MSA not discovered sooner? Archae-
ologists now working in Africa have a simple explanation:
Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian Mathematics and
African Predecessors – New Insights from Work Sites.
Fig. 1 A barbed harpoon point from Democratic Republic of
Congo. After Chip Clark. Science 268, 28 April 1965: 495.
1382 Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian mathematics and African predecessors – New insights from work sites

nobody had really bothered to look for it. “In France alone
there must be three hundred well-excavated sites dating
from the period we call the Middle Paleolithic,” archaeo-
logist Alison Brooks said. “In Africa there are barely two
dozen on the whole continent” (Shreeve 1992).
Language is also a factor in the development of
mathematics. The logical concepts needed for mathe-
matics are built into all languages, as Karl Menger
pointed out in his lectures. For example, all known
languages have words for “or,” for “and,” and for
counting numbers. By its nature, the development of
language has left no records for archaeologists to
excavate. However, numerical records have been found
from soon after the MSA. The oldest known to date was
found in Border Cave in Southern Africa and has been
dated to ca. 37,000 BP. It is a fossilized baboon bone
inscribed with 29 tally marks. Similar records are still
made by San peoples of Southern Africa to record the
lunar cycle (Bogoshi et al. 1987). Alexander Marshack
gives examples of this type of tally record from many
parts of the world (Marshack 1991). By the time
Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian Mathematics and
anatomically modern humans left Africa, they may African Predecessors – New Insights from Work Sites.
have been counting as well as making relatively Fig. 2 Ishango Bone, diagram (DeHeinzelin 1962: 114).
sophisticated tools.
Trade played a very important role in the develop-
ment of early mathematics. No direct evidence is ships with large crews, implying extensive trade. Evi-
known for a trade in chert, a flint-like quartz that was dence of early measurement systems predates writing and
mined in large quantities in Southern Egypt ca. 33,000 embodies a whole corps of mathematical knowledge.
BP. However, the quantities mined appear greater than For example, Flinders Petrie reported a red limestone
the needs of local consumption. The miners used balance beam and sets of graduated weights from
complex techniques not known in other parts of the Southern Egypt, dated to Naqada I, 4500–4000 BCE.
world before 10,000 BP. Also, a grave at the mine site The weights are multiples of a base weight, showing that
contained the remains of a young miner, buried with his the concept of ratios was already well developed (Petrie
mining tool. Burial goods and advanced mining tech- 1920: 28, also 1926: 18).
niques suggest cultural development at 33,000 BP In 1998, archaeologists reported a 6,000-year old
(Vermeersch et al. 1984). Stonehenge-type arrangement of large stones at Nabta
A Central African fossilized tally record, known as Playa in Southwestern Egypt. They described a “calen-
the “Ishango Bone,” has excited discussion because it is dar” circle with stones that align with the summer solstice
more complex than the Border Cave fossil. First of 6,000 years ago (Wendorf and Schild 2000). By 3200
studied in 1950, the bone was recently redated back BCE, hieroglyphic numerals were in use. An engraving
to 20,000–25,000 BP. The Ishango bone shows tallies on a knife handle clearly shows a numeral for 3,000 and
on one edge for 3, 6, space; 4, 8, space; 10, space; 5, 5, other numerals are indicated (Williams and Logan 1987).
space; 7. The other side is marked on one edge, 11, 13, The prehistory of Egyptian mathematics was coming to
17, 19, and on the other edge, 11, 21, 19, and 9 an end and the dawn of literacy had begun.
(Zaslavsky 1999: 18). A number of hypotheses sug-
gested that these number sequences were more than a
simple count. Many harpoon points were also found at Egypt of the Pharaohs
the site. This harpoon point technology spread to other The mathematical insights, discussed below, were
parts of Africa, including the Nile Valley. Although not gleaned from artifacts found at pyramid and temple
proof, it is suggestive of an Ishango input to the later work sites. They have not yet appeared in the textbooks
Nile Valley civilizations (De Heinzelin 1962) (Fig. 2). on the history of mathematics. These insights include
Some 15,000–20,000 years passed between the time the use of rectangular coordinates and construction lines
of the Ishango bone and the first pharaohs who ruled all labeled with integers and a zero reference point. The
of Egypt. Although the record is sketchy, there were same symbol used to label the zero reference point was
many advances made in the period before the pharaohs. later used to show zero remainders in a bookkeeping
Rock drawings from Nubia and Southern Egypt show papyrus.
 Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian mathematics and African predecessors – New insights from work sites 1383

The period of building great pyramids began in

Egypt ca. 2700 BCE. Thanks to the findings of
Egyptologists such as Dr. Zahi Hawass and Mark
Lehner, the Hollywood image of slave labor building
the pyramids has been discredited. It is now known that
the pyramid builders were well fed and were paid
wages. There was a demand for mathematical and
engineering skills. Scribes trained in mathematics kept
accounts for thousands of workers, maintained the
Egyptian calendar, and used a canon of proportions for
paintings and statues of kings and nobles.
No mathematical texts are among the surviving
papyri from that period. So we must study the
pyramids, themselves, to learn about the mathematics
used in pyramid design. Because they were so massive,
pyramids and the large tombs called mastabas required
careful leveling to prevent collapse. They also used
deep foundations. For leveling purposes, the Ancient
Egyptian architects created a system of guidelines with
horizontal lines spaced one cubit apart. To locate exact
distances below and above ground level, they placed
Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian Mathematics and
a vertical line on the grid of horizontal lines. A zero African Predecessors – New Insights from Work Sites.
reference level was used, often near pavement level, Fig. 3 Construction lines with zero reference (Arnold
and labeled nfrw. (Egyptian hieroglyphic writing 1991: 12).
omitted vowels so the vowel sounds are not known.)
Other points on this vertical line were labeled with the
number of cubits above nfrw or below nfrw. In effect,
these architects created a number line with a zero and his traveling court. For each type of goods, the sum
reference point and directed, or signed integers. of the disbursements was subtracted from the sum of
M
An example of these number lines appears to the the receipts to get the balances. On Day 1, Month 3 of
right. These lines can still be seen in a foundation this account, disbursements equaled receipts in four of
trench at Mastaba 17 in Meydum, Egypt. Horizontal, the eight columns. Subtraction left zero remainders.
leveling lines were drawn on the wall of the trench, The scribe wrote the zero quantity as nfr. Nfr had
spaced 1 cubit apart. A vertical line intersected the several meanings. In notes collected by Egyptologist
horizontal lines. Some points of intersection were Aayko Eyma, he writes:
labeled with “nfrw” for ground or zero level, “5 cubits
This nfr particle means ‘be at an end,’ ‘finished,’
below nfrw” and “8 cubits below nfrw.” No labels are
‘be zero(?),’ and occurs in constructions like nfr n
seen for “above nfrw” because the higher lines were not
(+ verbal form) ‘not,’ r-nfr n ‘so that not,’ and nfr
preserved. But at the nearby Meydum pyramid, there
pw ‘there is not.’ Some think the word nfr,
are leveling lines marked “6 cubits above “nfrw” and “8
‘beautiful,’ ‘good,’ is unrelated but others believe
cubits above “nfrw.” Dieter Arnold believes the vertical
that it may be related, in the sense of ‘perfect,’
lines were “used not only for horizontal measuring, but
‘ultimate’ or ‘final state’ (Lumpkin 2003).
also for marking directions” (Arnold 1991: 17, 18)
(Fig. 3). Scharff, the first European to publish Bulaq 18
These findings contradict the oft-repeated statement (in 1922), translated the Egyptian numerals as Indo-
that, “The Egyptians did not have a zero” (Bunt et al. Arabic numerals. Naturally, he knew that 52–52 left a
1976: 7). It is true that Egyptian numerals were remainder of 0 and that 7–7 = 0. But instead of writing
additive, without place value. There was no need of a zero, he wrote nfr, with no translation. In his comments,
zero placeholder. But nfrw for zero level was noted by he described these remainders as “das glatte Aufge-
Egyptologists 100 years ago. Also, the related Egyptian hen,” the flat or even outcome (Scharff 1922). Perhaps
word, nfr, was used for the zero remainder on the he did not want to challenge the established belief
balance sheets of a bookkeeping papyrus. That papyrus that “the Egyptians did not have a zero.” The great
is now known as Bulaq 18, written by the scribe Egyptologist, A. Gardiner, in 1927 gave “zero” as the
Neferhotep, ca. 1700 BCE. meaning of nfr(w) and “perhaps” zero as a meaning
Neferhotep and his assistants recorded each day’s of nfr (Gardiner 1978: 266, 574). A later writer,
receipts and disbursements of supplies for the Pharaoh Spalinger, had no problem with translating the nfr
1384 Mathematics in Egypt: Egyptian mathematics and African predecessors – New insights from work sites
balances as “0” in his 1985 translation of Bulaq 18
(Spalinger 1985: 12). It appears that the Egyptians had
a zero, after all.1
Few construction plans have survived the thousands
of years since the time King Djoser’s step pyramid
was built at Saqqara ca. 2700 BCE. Fortunately, an
architect’s detail was found next to a domed structure
inside the pyramid complex. The plan, inscribed in
red ink on a limestone flake, shows a curve. Evenly
spaced vertical lines, a cubit apart, give horizontal
coordinates while hieroglyphic numerals state the
vertical coordinates for points on the curve. Archaeol-
ogist Gunn plotted these points and connected them
with a smooth curve. He reported in 1927 that the
curve matched the curvature of the domed structure
nearby (Gunn 1926). Somers Clarke and Engelbach,
in their classic on Ancient Egyptian construction,
called this early use of coordinates “of great impor-
tance” (Clarke and Engelbach 1930: 52–3). To date,
this achievement remains little known, perhaps
because it does not appear in the surviving papyri
(Lumpkin 2002).
Pairs of construction guidelines may have provided
axes for rectangular coordinates to locate points on
pyramid walls. As early as 1865, Richard Lepsius
recorded such systems of horizontal and vertical
guidelines. The horizontal guidelines were labeled
with the number of cubits from “a foundation line,”
much as at Mastaba 17, shown in Fig. 3. In a chamber
at Khufu’s great pyramid, Lepsius noted a pair of
vertical lines intersecting a horizontal line. The line to
the left was marked “3.” In fact, that line measured 3
cubits from the vertical line to the right (Lepsius Trans.
2000: 11–13). Since there were both horizontal and
vertical reference lines, it is possible that rectangular
coordinates were used to locate points of interest during
the construction.
Khufu’s pyramid at Giza presents a special challenge
in the study of the mathematics and technology used in
construction. It is best know for its massive size,
covering an area as large as eight football fields. The
pyramid measured over 230 m each side and stood
146 m high. Many wonder how these pyramid builders,
without modern machines, moved more than two
million stones, some weighing 50 tons. But the greater
challenge is to explain the extreme accuracy of the 90°
angles that varied less than 1/15 of 1°. And what
technology did they use to level the foundation
platform to within 2.1 cm? How were the walls so
closely aligned to the cardinal points?
1
Bulaq 18 is discussed in more detail in Lumpkin 2002.
I thank Frank Yurco for his kind help with Bulaq 18 and other
sources for the zero concept in Ancient Egypt.
Egyptologists are divided about how the builders
found true North, whether they used star light or sun
shadows. Either method required an accurate circle
and bisection of an angle. Writers have suggested
that leveling was accomplished by flooding the area
inside a closed wall. But the pyramid was built on a
sloping plateau with a rocky massif that became part
of the pyramid. Leveling by water was not an option,
Lehner concluded. He studied a double line of
holes parallel to the sides of Khufu’s pyramid. It is
possible, Lehner writes, that stakes were placed in these
holes to support a cord used as a reference level (Lehner
997: 214–219).
Many have tried to explain how the Egyptians achieved
such accurate square corners. Some Mozambicans and the
Kpelle of Liberia compare the length of the diagonals of
the base to check square corners for their traditional
homes. But the rocky massif precluded this method at
Khufu’s pyramid. It is possible that the pyramid builders
used the right-triangle theorem to set nearly perfect square
corners. There are reports of 3–4–5 triangles in the design
of Old Kingdom temples but Lehner finds the evidence
inconclusive.
Some have suggested that intersecting arcs were
used to construct a perpendicular, using a cord as a
compass. The accuracy of this method has also been
questioned. Another method relies on tools invented
by Ancient Egyptians. These included square levels,
set squares and plumb bobs. A rough perpendicular
line could be drawn with the set square. Flipping the
square around that line would give a slightly different
perpendicular. A more accurate perpendicular would
be the line halfway between the two rough perpendi-
culars. Again, many believe that this method could
not produce the accuracy achieved by the Ancient
Egyptians.
Another difficult problem solved by Egyptian
pyramid builders is less obvious. How did they manage
to bring the four sides to a central point at the top?
Knowledge of the slope of a pyramid is well attested in
the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus, Problems 56–60.
Actually, they used inverse slope, the ratio of run to
rise. For Khufu’s pyramid, it was 14–11. This ratio
must be kept constant to achieve the smooth sides of
the pyramid. Lehner writes, “There is evidence that
guidelines marking the plane of the pyramid face were
cut into each casing block…” Also, Lehner has found
possible postholes for markers to serve as backlights to
align the pyramid axes and diagonals. This followed an
earlier suggestion by Clarke and Engelbach. Further
mapping of holes and marks around the pyramid may
supply more insight into the Egyptian method of
controlling the run to rise ratio (Lehner). It is hoped
that continued exploration of African work sites will
yield other exciting discoveries about our mathematical
forerunners.

References
Adelsberger, Katherine A. Provenance of Middle Stone Age
Tools of the Laetoli Archaeological Site, Tanzania. The
Geological Society of America Annual Meeting 2002:
Paper No. 51–57. ▶http://gsa.confex.com/gsa/2002AM/
finalprogram/abstract_45175.htm.
Arnold, Dieter. Building in Egypt: Pharaonic Stone Masonry.
New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.
Bogoshi, Jonas, Kevin Naidoo, and John Webb. The Oldest
Mathematical Artefact. The Mathematics Gazette 71
(1987): 294.
Bunt, Lucas N. H., Phillip S. Jones, and Jack D. Bedient. The
Historical Roots of Elementary Mathematics. Englewood
Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1976.
Chase, Arnold B. The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus,
Translation and Commentary 1927, 1929. Reston, Virgi-
nia: National Council of Teacher of Mathematics, 1986.
Clarke, Somers and Reginald Engelbach. Ancient Egyptian Con-
struction and Architecture. 1930. New York: Dover, 1990.
DeHeinzelin, Jean. Ishango. Scientific American 206.6 (1962):
105–14.
Gardiner, Alan H. Egyptian Grammar. 3rd ed. Oxford:
Griffith Institute, 1978.
Gunn, Batiscombe. An Architect’s Diagram of the Third
Dynasty. Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte
(Cairo) 26 (1926): 197–202. The limestone flake contain-
ing this diagram was listed in the Cairo Museum Journal
d/Entrée, number 50036.
Gutin, JoAnn. Do Kenya Tools Root the Birth of Modern
Thought in Africa? Science 270 (1995): 1118–9.
Henshilwood, Christopher, et al. Emergence of Modern
Human Behavior, Middle Stone Age Engravings from
South Africa. Science 295 (2002): 1278–80.
Lehner, Mark. The Complete Pyramids: Solving the Ancient
Mysteries. New York: Thames & Hudson, 1997.
Lepsius, Richard. The Ancient Egyptian Cubit and its
Subdivision. 1865. Trans. J. Degreef. Ed. M. St John.
London: Museum Bookshop Publications, 2000.
Lumpkin, Beatrice. Mathematics Used in Egyptian Construc-
tion and Bookkeeping. The Mathematical Intelligencer
24.2 (2002): 20–5.
---. Ancient Egyptian Mathematics and Forerunners: Some
Hints from Work Sites. A Delta-Man in Yebu, Occasional
Volume of the Egyptologists’ Electronic Forum 1 (2003).
Ed. A. K. Eyma and C. J. Bennett. Universal Publishers/
Upublish.Com, 210–14, notes 23–26.
Marshack, Alexander. The Roots of Civilization. Mt. Kisco,
New York: Mayer, Bell, 1991.
Petrie, William M. F. Prehistoric Egypt. London: British
School of Archaeology in Egypt, 1920. 28.
---. Ancient Weights and Measures, London: British School of
Archaeology in Egypt, 1926. 18.
Scharff, Alexander. Ein Rechnungsbuch des Königlichen Hofes
aus der 13. Dynastie (Papyrus Boulaq Nr. 18). Zeitschrift
für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 57 (1922).
Shreeve, James. The Dating Game. Discover (1992): 76–83.
Spalinger, Anthony. Notes on the Day Summary Account of
P. Bulaq 18 and the Intradepartmental Transfers. Studien
Zur Altägyptischen Kultur 12 (1985).
Vermeersch, P. M. et al. 33,000-yr Old Chert Mining Site and
Related Homo in the Egyptian Nile Valley. Nature 309
(1984): 342–4.
Wendorf, Fred and Romuald Schild. Late Neolithic Megalithic
Structures at Nabta Playa (Sahara), Southwestern Egypt.
Mathematics in Egypt: Mathematical leather roll 1385
▶http://www.comp-archaeology.org/WendorfSAA98.html.
2000.
Williams, Bruce and Thomas J. Logan. The Metropolitan
Museum Knife Handle and Aspects of Pharaonic Imagery
Before Narmer. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 46.4
(1987): 245–8.
Yellen, John E. et al. A Middle Stone Age Worked Bone
Industry from Katanda, Upper Semliki Valley, Democratic
Republic of the Congo. Science 268 (1995): 553–5.
Zaslavsky, Claudia. Africa Counts. 3rd ed. Chicago:
Lawrence Hill Books, 1999. 17–20.
Mathematics in Egypt: Mathematical
Leather Roll
M ILO G ARDNER
Henry Rhind purchased the 10″ × 17″ leather roll in
1858. It was sent to the British Museum in 1864, but
was not chemically softened and unrolled until 1927
(Scott and Hall 1927).
Middle Kingdom hieratic characters were written
right to left. There are 26 rational numbers listed. Each
rational number is followed by a series of equivalent
unit fractions.
There are ten binary rational numbers: 1/2, 1/4
(twice), 1/8 (thrice), 1/16 (twice), 1/32, and 1/64. There M
are seven other even rational numbers: 1/6 (twice – but
wrong once), 1/10, 1/12, 1/14, 1/20, and 1/30. Finally,
there are nine odd rational numbers: 2/3, 1/3 (twice),
1/5, 1/7, 1/9, 1/11, 1/13, and 1/15.
The British Museum examiners found no introduc-
tion or description of how and why the equivalent unit
fraction series were computed (Gillings 1981: 456–
457). A series of equivalent unit fractions is associated
with the fractions 1/3, 1/4, 1/8, and 1/16. There is a
trivial error associated with the unit fraction series total
of 1/15. It is listed as 1/6. A serious error is associated
with the rational number 1/13, a problem that the
examiners did not resolve.
The British Museum Quarterly (1927) naively
reported the chemical analysis to be more interesting
than the Egyptian mathematical leather roll’s
(EMLR’s) additive contents.
The binary fractions are now seen to be restatements
and improvements to the older Horus-Eye numeration
system. Horus-Eye arithmetic employed an infinite
series numeration system that used “decimal fractions”
similar to our present decimals (Ore 1948: 311–325).
Note the Horus-Eye definition for the number 1
1 1 1 1 1 1
1 ¼ þ þ þ þ þ þ ;
2 4 8 16 32 64
with the last term 1/64th being thrown away (Gillings
1972: 210).
1386 Mathematics in Egypt: Mathematical leather roll
Another Middle Kingdom text, the Rhind Mathe-
matical Papyrus (RMP), mentioned the use of six
additional significant digit fractions, called ro. Ro units
were used in volume calculations reducing the Horus-
Eye error to 1/4,096.
Note that Babylonian scribes wrote in an expanded
base 60 system before the Egyptian hieratic system
appeared. Babylonian numeration also used properties
of “decimal fractions.” Babylonian numeration was
written within a positional notation similar to the
modern decimal system. Babylonians attempted high
accuracy, minimizing error to 1/3,600 for two terms
and 1/216,000 for three terms. However, for inverse
prime numbers, Babylonians rounded off when writ-
ing their equivalent unit fraction series, thereby
seriously degrading their system’s accuracy (Robson
et al. 2003).
Because the Middle Kingdom arithmetic was written
in an unusual exact series context, modern researchers
frequently minimized the EMLR’s significance. One
minimal aspect is that the older Horus-Eye system’s
accuracy may at first have been superseded in only
special situations. Several ancient texts, the Akhmim
Wooden Tablets, Berlin, Kahun, Moscow, and Reisner
papyri, are read in this low content manner. However,
the EMLR and RMP demonstrate generalized ways to
convert any rational number to a concise unit fraction
series. Therefore, the EMLR and RMP abstract arith-
metic could have been seen in 1927 as having been
standardized, thereby superseding both its additive
Horus-Eye parent and its nearby competitor Babylonian
base 60. Arguably the more accurate system provided
more than “bragging rights” to Egyptian science and
trade.
Restating the problem of fairly reading the EMLR, a
process that took over 75 years, the majority of its early
examiners strongly suggested that it contained only
simple additive information. Over 60 years would pass
before a higher systemized form of arithmetic began to
be parsed from the EMLR and RMP data (Gardner
1995, 2002).
The following chronology shows several of the
events along the road to understanding Egyptian
abstract arithmetic.
For example, Ahmes, the RMP scribe, mentally
computed:
2=ð pqÞ ¼ 2=21; where p¼ 3; q ¼ 7; A ¼ ð3 þ 1Þ
such that : 2=21 ¼ 2=ð3 þ 1Þ  ð3 þ 1Þ=21
¼ 1=2  ð3=21 þ 1=21Þ
¼ 1=2  ð1=7 þ 1=21Þ
¼ 1=14 þ 1=42
Cryptanalysis has parsed five categories (a–e) from the
EMLR’s 26 equivalent unit fraction series. Three are
identities (a–c) and one (d) is a remainder. The first
four categories have been basically understood since
1927. However, one (e) is an algebraic identity. The
algebraic identity form had escaped detection and
confirmation for over 75 years. The five methods are
explained below (Gardner 2002).
For example, the EMLR student set p = 1, q = 8, A = 25
such that
1=8 ¼ 1=25  25=8
¼ 1=5  25=40
¼ 1=5  5=8; with
5=8 ¼ 1=5 þ 1=3 þ 1=15 þ 1=40
may have been mentally computed by:
5=8
1=5 ¼ ð25
8Þ=40
17=40
1=3 ¼ ð51
40Þ=120
11=120 ¼ ð8 þ 3Þ=120
¼ 1=5  ð1=5 þ 1=3 þ 1=15 þ 1=40Þ
¼ 1=25 þ 1=15 þ 1=75 þ 1=200
Interestingly, the EMLR’s four values for A (4, 5, 7, and
25) did not optimize its fraction series in a manner
comparable to the RMP 2/nth table’s entries. The
EMLR’s partitioning As are therefore considered to be
a RMP training technique. The serious error 1/13th
could have been resolved by methods (c), (d), or (e).
The error was related to a failed attempt to apply
method (e). Math historians have titled a closely related
“pick a number” method, found in the RMP, as “false
position” (Eves 1961: 40).
The EMLR has been proven to be a student’s
introduction to an innovative numeration system. The
improved Middle Kingdom arithmetic easily converted
any rational number, after employing a factoring
process, to a concise, optimal and exact series of
unit fraction statements. This subtle conclusion was
difficult to reach for a number of reasons, the greatest
one being the small collection of surviving fragments
of Middle Kingdom texts. Seen in its most basic terms,
the EMLR was the most elementary of the 2000–1650
BCE abstract arithmetic texts.
References
Bönning, Astrid, Peter Hilton, and Jean Pedersen. Writing a
Rational Number in Egyptian Form. The Mathematical
Gazette 86 (2002): 432–6.
Boyer, Carl B. A History of Mathematics. New York: John
Wiley, 1968.
Brown, Kevin S. The Akhmin Papyrus 1995a. ▶http://www.
mathpages.com/home/akhmin.htm.
---. Egyptian Unit Fractions 1995b. ▶http://www.math
pages.com/home/kmath340.htm.
Bruckheimer, Maxim and Y. Salomon. Some Comments on
R. J. Gillings’ Analysis of the 2/n Table in the Rhind
Papyrus. Historia Mathematica 4 (1977): 445–52.

Bruins, Evert M. Fontes Matheseos: Hoofdpunten van Het
Prae-Griekse en Griekse Wiskundig Denken. Leiden: E. J.
Brill, 1953.
---. Platon et la table égyptienne 2/n. Janus 46 (1957):
253–63.
---. Egyptian Arithmetic. Janus 68 (1981a): 33–52.
---. Reducible and Trivial Decompositions Concerning
Egyptian Arithmetics. Janus 68 (1981b): 281–97.
Burton, David M. History of Mathematics: An Introduction.
Providence: Brown University Press, 2003.
Chace, Arnold Buffum, et al. The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus.
Oberlin: Mathematical Association of America, 1927.
Collier, Mark and Steven Quirke, ed. Lahun Papyri: Religious,
Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical. Oxford:
Archaeopress, 2004.
Cooke, Roger. The History of Mathematics. A Brief Course.
New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1997.
Couchoud, Sylvia. Mathématiques égyptiennes. Recherches
sur les connaissances mathématiques de l’Egypte phar-
aonique. Paris: Le Léopard d’Or, 1993.
Daressy, Georges. Akhmim Wood Tablets. Le Caire
Imprimerie de l’Institut Francais d’Archeologie Orientale
(1901): 95–6.
Eves, Howard. An Introduction to the History of Mathemat-
ics. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1961.
Fowler, David H. The Mathematics of Plato’s Academy: A
New Reconstruction. New York: Clarendon Press, 1999.
Gardiner, Alan H. Egyptian Grammar Being an Introduction
to the Study of Hieroglyphs. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1957.
Gardner, Milo. Breaking the RMP 2/nth Table Code 1995.
▶http://www.ecst.csuchico.edu/atman/Misc/horus-eye.
html.
---. The Egyptian Mathematical Leather Roll, Attested Short
Term and Long Term. History of the Mathematical
Sciences. Ed. Ivor Grattan-Guinness and B. C. Yadav.
New Delhi: Hindustan Book Agency, 2002. 119–34.
---. Egyptian Mathematics 2004. ▶http://www.egyptianmath.
blogspot.com.
Gillings, Richard J. The Egyptian Mathematical Leather Roll.
Australian Journal of Science 24 (1962): 339–44.
---. Mathematics in the Time of the Pharaohs. Cambridge,
Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1972. New York: Dover, 1982.
---. The Recto of the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus: How Did
the Ancient Egyptian Scribe Prepare It? Archive for
History of Exact Sciences 12 (1974): 291–8.
---. The Recto of the RMP and the EMLR. Historia
Mathematica 6 (1979): 442–7.
---. The Egyptian Mathematical Leather Role – Line 8. How
Did the Scribe Do it? Historia Mathematica (1981): 456–7.
Glanville, S. R. K. The Mathematical Leather Roll in the
British Museum. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 13
(1927): 232–8.
Griffith, Francis Llewelyn. The Petrie Papyri. Hieratic
Papyri from Kahun and Gurob (Principally of the Middle
Kingdom). London: Bernard Quaritch, 1898.
Gunn, Battiscombe George. Review of “The Rhind Mathe-
matical Papyrus” by T. E. Peet. The Journal of Egyptian
Archaeology 12 (1926): 123–37.
Hultsch, F. Die Elemente der Aegyptischen Theihungsrech-
mun 8, Ubersich uber die Lehre von den Zerlegangen
(1895): 169–71.
Imhausen, Annette. Egyptian Mathematical Texts and Their
Contexts. Science in Context 6 (2003): 367–89.
Mathematics of the Hebrew people 1387
Joseph, George Gheverghese. The Crest of the Peacock: The
Non-European Roots of Mathematics. New York: Penguin
Books, 1991.
Karpinski, L. C. Michigan Mathematical Papyrus Nr. 621.
Isis 5 (1923): 20–5.
Klee, Victor and Stan Wagon. Old and New Unsolved
Problems in Plane Geometry and Number Theory.
Washington, District of Columbia: Mathematical Associa-
tion of America, 1991.
Knorr, Wilbur R. Techniques of Fractions in Ancient Egypt
and Greece. Historia Mathematica 9 (1982): 133–71.
Legon, John A. R. A Kahun Mathematical Fragment. Discus-
sions in Egyptology 24 (1992): 21–4.
Lüneburg, Hienz. Zerlgung von Bruchen in Stammbruche.
Leonardi Pisani Liber Abbaci oder Lesevergnügen eines
Mathematikers. Mannheim: Wissenschaftsverlag, 1993.
81–5.
Neugebauer, Otto. The Exact Sciences in Antiquity. Provi-
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Ore, Oystein. Number Theory and Its History. New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1948.
Rees, C. S. Egyptian Fractions. Mathematical Chronicle 10
(1981): 13–33.
Robins, Gay and Charles Shute. The Rhind Mathematical
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Robson, Eleanor, et al. ed. The History of Mathematical
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University Press, 2003.
Sarton, George. The Study of the History of Mathematics.
New York: Dover, 1957.
Scott, A. and H. R. Hall. Laboratory Notes: Egyptian
Mathematical Leather Roll of the Seventeenth Century M
BC. British Museum Quarterly 2 (1927) 56.
Sylvester, J. J. On a Point in the Theory of Vulgar Fractions.
American Journal of Mathematics 3 (1880): 332–5.
Vogel, Kurt. Erweitert die Lederolle unserer Kenntniss
ägyptischer Mathematik. Archiv fur Geschichte der
Mathematik (1929): 386.
van der Waerden, Bartel Leendert. Science Awakening.
English Trans. Arnold Dresden. Nordoff: Gottingen, 1954.
Mathematics of the Hebrew People
T ONY L ÉVY
A “Hebrew mathematical text” is any text or work
whose language is Hebrew (usually written in Hebrew
characters), and whose content is mathematical in a
narrow sense, that is, does not include astronomy (apart
from relevant mathematical sections), astrology, or
calendar calculations.
Apart from a few passages that are to be found in
biblical and postbiblical (rabbinical) literature and
which are relevant to the history of mathematics
(number words and fraction words, practical rules of
geometry), the oldest mathematical tract in Hebrew is
1388 Mathematics of the Hebrew people
the Mishnat ha-Middot, by an unknown author. This
tract gives practical rules for the measurement of areas
and volumes, and then deals with the measurements
(middot) of the Tabernacle erected by the Jews in the
desert. It has been recently shown that its composi-
tion was probably influenced by the geometrical part of
al-Khwārizmī’s Algebra. This tract remained unknown
to most medieval Jewish scholars and its Hebrew
mathematical terminology was of no consequence.
Two famous scholars are central in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries in Spain: Abraham bar Hiyya (ca.
1065–ca. 1145) and Abraham ibn Ezra (1092–1167).
This period saw the actual birth of Hebrew mathematics.
Abraham bar Hiyya, also called Savasorda (latini-
zed from the Arabic S.āh.ib al-shurta), flourished in
Barcelona in Christian Spain, but was probably edu-
cated in the Arabic kingdom of Saragossa. Bar Hiyya
wrote books in Hebrew on mathematics, astronomy,
astrology, and philosophy. He clearly indicated that his
Hebrew compositions were written for Jews living in
southern France (in Hebrew, Eres.Sarfat) who were
unacquainted with Arabic scientific culture and unable
to read Arabic texts. Bar H.iyya can thus rightly be
considered the founder of Hebrew scientific culture
and language, and specifically the father of Hebrew
mathematics. We know of two mathematical compo-
sitions by Bar H.iyya: the extant parts of a scientific
encyclopedia and a geometrical compilation.
The first of these books, Yesodey ha-Tevuna
u-Migdal ha-Emuna (The Foundations of Science and
the Tower of Faith), is presumably an adaptation from
some unknown Arabic composition; the geometrical
and arithmetical parts are extant. The study of its
content sheds some light on eleventh century mathe-
matical literature in Western Islamic lands and its
diffusion.
The H.ibbur ha-Meshih.a we ha-Tishboret (The
Composition on Geometrical Measures) enjoyed a
very large diffusion as the Liber embadorum in its Latin
translation by Plato of Tivoli (1145). Much has been
said by ancient and modern scholars concerning the
importance of this text for traditions of practical
geometry in Europe.
Abraham ibn Ezra was born in Tudela in Aragon.
Raised in Arabic culture, and probably knowing Latin,
Ibn ˓Ezra spent the last part of his life traveling over
Europe. He was a poet, a grammarian, an astronomer–
astrologer, and a biblical commentator of great
reputation. Ibn Ezra, one generation after Bar H.iyya,
also created a new scientific language, different from
that of his predecessor, closer to biblical Hebrew and
less influenced by Arabic. His mathematical work
consists essentially of the important book Sefer ha-
Mispar (The Book of Number), but numerous arith-
metical and numerological remarks are scattered in his
others works, including his biblical commentaries.
His Book of Number, written probably before 1160,
expounds for the first time the decimal positional
notation including zero. The foundations of arithmetic
are then discussed in the following order: multiplica-
tion, division, addition, substraction, fractions, propor-
tions, and square roots.
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the works
of both Abrahams opened up to the Jewish commu-
nities unfamiliar with Arabic access to basic mathe-
matical knowledge. They obviously mention the names
of classical authors, Greek or Arabic, and of their
works, but these works themselves only became partly
available in Hebrew during the thirteenth century. This
first major period of translations continued until the
first third of the fourteenth century.
Several of the translators were members of a single
family of scholars. The first, Yehuda ibn Tibbon, left
Granada in the middle of the twelfth century, at the time
of the arrival of the Almohads in al-Andalus, and settled
in Lunel in the south of France. There, he undertook
the translation into Hebrew of ethical and philosophical
works written in Arabic by Jewish scholars from
Spain. His son, Samuel ben Yehuda, translated the
famous Guide for the Perplexed of Maimonides
from Arabic into Hebrew. The third and fourth
generations of this family include translators of
scientific works.
Thus, Jacob Anatoli (ca. 1194–1256), working in
Italy under the patronage of Frederic II of Sicily,
translated Ptolemy’s Almagest and Ibn Rushd (Aver-
roes)’ Compendium on Astronomy, lost in the Arabic
original. According to recent findings, he is perhaps the
first translator into Hebrew of Euclid’s Elements.
Moses ben Samuel ben Yehuda of Montpellier (active
between 1240 and 1283) translated, among others
things, works by Euclid (The Elements), Theodosius
(Sphaerics), al-Fārābī (The Commentary on The
Elements), Ibn al-Haytham (The Commentary on
The Elements), and al-H.as.s.ār (The so-called Ari-
thmetic) Lastly, Jacob ben Makhir of Montpellier
(ca. 1236–1305) also translated works by Euclid (The
Elements, the Data, and perhaps the Optics), Autolycus
of Pitane (On the Moving Sphere), Menelaus (Sphae-
rics), Jābir ibn Aflah (Astronomy), and Ibn al-Haytham
(Astronomy).
To this period belongs a Jewish scholar from Toledo,
who also had contacts with Frederic II of Sicily during
the first half of the thirteenth century. Yehuda ben
Solomon ha-Kohen (probably b. 1215) wrote in Arabic
a (lost) encyclopedia of sciences, which he translated
himself into Hebrew, Midrash ha-h.okhma (The
Learning of Wisdom). This book includes a redaction,
or free translation, of Euclid’s Elements (Books I–VI
and XI–XIII).
A generation after Jacob ben Makhir, Qalonymos
ben Qalonymos (Maestro Calo) of Arles (b. 1287)

translated Archimedes (The Sphere and the Cylinder
and the commentary upon it by Eutocius, perhaps also
The Measurement of the Circle), Nicomachus of Gerasa
(a lost Arabic paraphrase of the Introduction to
Arithmetics), Thābit ibn Qurra (on the Figura Sector
of Menelaus), Jabir ibn Aflah. (on the same problem, a
text apparently lost in Arabic), and Ibn al-Haytham (a
part of the commentary on The Elements, already
translated in part by Moses ibn Tibbon). Qalonymos
also translated several texts for which the original
Arabic has not yet been identified, or is now lost: thus
we have important fragments of a Treatise on Cylinders
and Cones by Ibn al-Samh. of Granada (eleventh
century), perhaps extracted from a larger book of this
Andalusian scholar. Qalonymos is also probably the
author of an important mathematical and philosophical
composition on the nature of numbers, the Sefer
ha- Melakhim (The Book of Kings).
Thus, we possess more or less complete Hebrew
versions of the treatises of the following classical
authors: Euclid, Archimedes, Autolycus, Theodosius
Menelaus, Ptolemy, Nichomacus. The conspicuous
absence of the name of Apollonius does not mean that
he was not known to the Jewish scholars.
The diffusion of the Hebrew versions of important
mathematical works created the conditions for the
composition of original works by Jewish scholars
who were also excellent astronomers. This, at least, is
the case of two scholars that we will mention here,
as much for the depth of their talent as for the
importance of their works. Levi ben Gershon, also
called Gersonides (1288–1344) is the author of an
important mathematical work. His writings on harmon-
ic numbers (extant only in a Latin translation), on
arithmetic and combinatorics (Ma’aseh H . oshev,
Work of the Reckoner), and on the geometry of
Euclid have been recently studied from the point of
view of their contents, of their Arabic and perhaps
Latin sources, and their possible influence on
later works.
Immanuel ben Jacob Bonfils of Tarascon, one
generation after Gersonides, must be mentioned in
connection with two mathematical areas: that of the
introduction of decimal fractions, and that of calcula-
tions related to the measurement of the circle. The
sources and the scope of his developments in both areas
have not yet been fully investigated.
In fifteenth-century Italy, there were a number of
translators and commentators of note. The movement
toward Italy is not only geographical: the Hebrew texts
which we possess, and which have been only partially
studied, show an increasing influence of Latin and also
the vernacular languages.
Mordekhai (Angelo) Finzi of Mantua (active be-
tween 1441 and 1473) is without a doubt the best
known of these translator–scholars. He translated
Mathematics of the Hebrew people 1389
several compositions of Abū Kamīl (a tenth-century
Arabic scholar); he seems also to have been the
translator (or perhaps the author) of a compendium
on geometry in eleven chapters. Finzi is the author
of a Ma’amar be-H.eshbon Medidut ha-Gigiyyot we
ha-H.aviyyot (Treatise on the Measurement of Buckets
and Barrels) in which he quotes Bar H.iyya and “the
masters of the abacus,” and whose analysis should yield
useful clues on the history of stereometry before
Kepler. Finally, we must emphasize Finzi’s role in the
diffusion of algebraic knowledge: in addition to Abū
Kamīl’s Algebra, Finzi translated from Italian or Latin
into Hebrew the noteworthy algebraic composition of a
certain Maestro Dardi of Pisa (who wrote in the
fourteenth century), dealing with complex equations
involving powers up to the twelfth degree.
The contacts of Jewish scholars in Italy with those in
Constantinople, especially after the arrival of the
Ottomans, constitute perhaps one of the channels by
which ideas or texts of the Arabic East diffused.
There is also some mathematics of note in the
Judeo–Byzantine scholarly world of the fifteenth to
sixteenth centuries. The specific interest in studying
this scholarly milieu – besides the talents of its
representatives – lies in the use made therein of a
triple heritage: that of texts available in Hebrew (Bar
H.iyya, Ibn ˓Ezra, the Greek and Arabic classics in
translation, Gersonides, etc.), Arabic texts (sometimes
not extant in Arabic) not translated into Hebrew
M
but quoted in Hebrew compositions, and finally the
Greek–Byzantine texts.
From this point of view, attention of scholars must be
drawn to the mathematical works of Mordekhai
Komtino (1402–1482) and of his two students
Kalev Afendopulo (1460–1525) and Eliahu Mizrah.i
(1455–1526).
The Sefer ha-H.eshbon we-ha-Middot (Book on
Reckoning and Measurements) of Komtino shows a
direct knowledge of ancient Greek sources such as
Hero, and probably also of Byzantine–Greek texts. The
Sefer ha-Mispar (The Book of Number) by Mizrah.i of
which extracts were published in Latin in the sixteenth
century, should be analyzed in the light of recent
studies on the history of Arabic and Greek–Byzantine
arithmetic. Finally, the commentary by Afendopulo of
the Hebrew version of Nicomachus’ Introduction to
Arithmetics is a long text which includes several
excursuses on philosophy, astronomy, and astrology.
In this very brief – and far from exhaustive – survey
of Hebrew mathematics, an attempt has been made to
indicate the importance of these texts and to describe
their transmission as a general set of mathematical
ideas of Hellenistic origin between the eleventh and the
sixteenth centuries, that is, before the rediscovery of
Greek original texts and the relaunching of activity in
the Renaissance.
1390 Mathematics in India
See also: ▶al-Khwārizmī, ▶Ibn Tibbon, ▶Moses
Maimonides
References
Langermann, Y. Tzvi. Studies in Medieval Hebrew Pythago-
reanism: Translations and Notes to Nicomachus Arithmo-
logical Texts. Micrologus, 2001: 219–236.
Lévy, Tony. Gersonide, le Pseudo-Tusi, et le postulat
des parallèles. Les mathématiques en hébreu et leurs
sources arabes. Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 2.1
(1992): 39–82.
---. Gersonide, commentateur d’Euclide: traduction
annotée de ses gloses sur les Eléments. Studies on
Gersonides. Ed. Gad Freudenthal.Leiden: E. J. Brill,
1992. 83–147.
---. L’Histoire des Nombres Amiables: Le Témoinage des
Textes Hébreux Médiévaux. Arabic Sciences and Philoso-
phy 6.1 (1996): 63–87.
---. Hebrew Mathematics in the Middle Ages: An Assess-
ment. Tradition, Transmission, Transformation. Ancient
Mathematics in Islamic and Occidental Cultures. Ed.
F. Jamil Ragep and Sally P. Ragep with Steven J. Livesy.
Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996. 71–88.
---. Les Eléments d’Euclide en hébreu (XIIIe–XVIe siècles).
Perspectives médiévales (arabes, latines, hébraïques) sur
la tradition scientifique et philosophique grecques. Eds.
M. Aouad, A. Elamrani-Jamal, A. Hasnaoui. Paris–
Louvain: Peeters, 1996. 79–93.
---. The Establishment of the Mathematical Bookshelf of the
Medieval Hebrew Scholar: Translations and Translators.
Science in Context 10.3 (1997): 431–51.
---. Hebrew and Latin Versions of an Unknown Mathe-
matical Text by Abraham Ibn Ezra. Aleph 1 (2001):
295–305.
---. De l’Arabe à l’Hébreu: La Constitution de la Littérature
Mathématique Hébraїque (XIIe–XVIe siécle). From
China to Paris: 2000 Years Transmission of Mathematical
Ideas. Proceedings of a Conference Held in Bellagio, Italy,
May 8–12, 2000. Stuttgart, Germany: Steiner, 2002.
307–26.
---. A Newly-Discovered Partial Hebrew Version of Al-
Khwārimī’s Algebra. Aleph 2(2002): 225–34.
---. L’Algèbre Arabe dans les Textes Hébraїques (I):
Un Ouvrage Inédit d’Isaac Ben Salomon Al-Ah.dab
(XIV siècle). Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 13 (2003):
269–301.
Sarfatti, Gad. Mathematical Terminology in Hebrew Scientif-
ic Literature of the Middle Ages. Jerusalem: The Magnes
Press, 1968 (Hebrew, with English summary).
Selin, Helaine, et al. Mathematics Across Cultures: The
History of Non-Western Mathematics. Dordrecht: Kluwer
Academic, 2000.
Steinschneider, Moritz. Mathematik bei den Juden
(1893–1901). Hildesheim: Olms, 1964.
Walton, Michael T. and Phyllis J. Walton. The Geometrical
Kabbalahs of John Dee and Johannes Kepler: The
Hebrew Tradition and the Mathematical Study of Nature.
Experiencing Nature: Proceedings of a Conference in
Honor of Allen G. Debus. Ed. Paul H. Theerman, and
Karen Hunger Parshall. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic,
1997. 43–59.
Mathematics in India
G EORGE G HEVERGHESE J OSEPH
A widely held view is that Indian mathematics
originated in the service of religion. Support for this
view is sought in the complexity of motives behind the
recording of the Śulbasūtras, the first written mathe-
matical source dated around 800–500 BCE, dealing
with the measurement and construction of sacrificial
altars. This view ignores the skills in mensuration and
practical arithmetic that existed in the Harappan (or
Indus Valley) culture which dates back to 3000 BCE.
Archaeological remains indicate a long established
centralized system of weights and measures. A number
of different plumb-bobs of uniform size and weights
have been found that could be classified as decimal,
i.e., if we take a plumb-bob weighing approximately
27.534 g as a standard representing 1 unit, the other
weights form a series with values of 0.05, 0.1, 0.2, 0.5,
2, 5, 10, 20, 50, 100, 200, and 500 units. Also, scales
and instruments for measuring length have been dis-
covered, including one from Mohenjo-Daro, one of the
two largest urban centers, consisting of a fragment of
shell 66.2 mm long, with nine carefully sawn, equally
spaced parallel lines, on average 6.7056 mm apart. The
accuracy of the graduation is remarkably high, with a
mean error of only 0.075 mm.
A notable feature of the Harappan culture was its
extensive use of kiln-fired bricks and the advanced level
of its brickmaking technology. While 15 different sizes
of Harappan bricks have been identified, the standard
ratio of the three dimensions – the length, breadth, and
thickness – is always 4:2:1, considered even today as the
optimal ratio for efficient bonding. A close correspon-
dence exists between the standard unit of measurement
(the “Indus inch” (33.5 mm) and brick sizes, in that the
latter are integral multiples of the former. (An Indus inch
is exactly twice a Sumerian unit of length (sushi).
Twenty-five Indus inches make a Megalithic yard, a
measure probably in use north-west Europe around
2000 BCE. These links have led to the conjecture that a
decimal scale of measurement originated somewhere in
western Asia and then spread as far as Britain, Egypt,
Mesopotamia, and the Indus Valley.)
This relationship between brickmaking technology
and metrology was to reappear 1,500 years later during
the Vedic period in the construction of sacrificial altars
of bricks. However, a most intriguing suggestion of
Subbarayappa is that the Harappan numeration system
contains certain similarities with the Kharos.t.hī and the
“Aśhokan” variant of the Brāhmi numeration systems
which emerged in India about 2,000 years later. He
notes the following similarities:

There are identical symbols for the numbers 1–4 and
for a 100 in all three numeration systems.
All three were ciphered systems employing a
decimal base.
He suggests that deciphering the inscriptions on the
large number of excavated seals and other artifacts
require that they be recognized as numerical records
rather than as literary passages. Given the failure so far
to decipher the Harappan script, this approach is
certainly worth further examination.
The earliest written evidence in India of a recogniz-
able antecedent of our numeral system is found in an
inscription from Gwalior dated “Samvat 933” (AD
876) where the numbers 50 and 270 are given as
and . Notice the close similarity with our notation
for 270 showing in both an understanding of the place
value principle as well as the use of zero. There is
earlier evidence of the use of Indian system of
numeration in South East Asia in areas covered by
present-day countries such as Malaysia, Cambodia and
Indonesia, all of whom were under the cultural
influence of India. Also, as early as AD 662, a Syrian
bishop, Severus Sebokt, comments on the Indians
carrying out computations by means of nine signs by
methods which “surpass description” (Joseph 1993).
The spread of these numerals westwards is a
fascinating story. The Arabs were the leading actors
in this drama. Indian numerals probably arrived at
Baghdad in 773 AD with the diplomatic mission from
Sind to the court of Caliph al-Mans.ūr. In about 820,
al-Khwārizmī wrote his famous Kitāb h.isāb al-adad
al-hindī (Book of Addition and Subtraction According
to the Hindu Calculation, also called just Arithmetic),
the first Arab text to deal with the new numerals. The
text contains a detailed exposition. of both the
representation of numbers and operations using Indian
numerals. Al-Khwārizmī was at pains to point out the
usefulness of a place-value system incorporating zero,
particularly for writing large numbers. Texts on Indian
reckoning continued to be written, and by the end of the
eleventh century this method of representation and
computation was widespread from the borders of
Central Asia to the southern reaches of the Islamic
world in North Africa and Egypt.
In the transmission of Indian numerals to Europe, as
with almost all knowledge from the Islamic world, Spain
and (to a lesser extent) Sicily played the role of
intermediaries, being the areas in Europe which had been
under Muslim rule for many years. Documents from
Spain and coins from Sicily show the spread and the slow
evolution of the numerals, with a landmark for its spread
being its appearance in an influential mathematical text of
medieval Europe, Liber Abaci (Book of Computation),
written by Fibonacci (1170–1250), who learnt to work
with Indian numerals during his extensive travels in
North Africa, Egypt, Syria, and Sicily. The spread
Mathematics in India 1391
westwards continued slowly, displacing Roman numer-
als, and eventually, once the contest between the abacists
(those in favor of the use of the abacus or some
mechanical device for calculation) and the algorists
(those who favored the use of the new numerals) had been
won by the latter, it was only a matter of time before the
final triumph of the new numerals occurred, with bankers,
traders, and merchants adopting the system for their daily
calculations.
The beginnings of Indian algebra may be traced to
the Śulbasūtras and later Bakhshālī Manuscript, for
both contain simple examples involving the solution of
linear, simultaneous and even indeterminate equations.
An example of an indeterminate equation in two
unknowns (x and y) is 3x + 4y = 50, which has a number
of positive whole-number (or integer) solutions for
(xy). For example, x = 14, y = 12 satisfies the equation
as do the solution sets (10, 5), (6, 8) and (2, 11).
But it was only from the time of Āryabhat.a I (b. AD
476) that algebra grew into a distinct branch of
mathematics. Brahmagupta (b. AD 598) called it
kut. t. aka gan.itā, or simply kut. t. aka, which later came
to refer to a particular branch of algebra dealing with
methods of solving indeterminate equations to which
the Indians made significant contributions.
An important feature of early Indian algebra which
distinguishes it from other mathematical traditions was
the use of symbols such as the letters of the alphabet to
denote unknown quantities. It is this very feature of
M
algebra that one immediately associates with the
subject today. The Indians were probably the first to
make systematic use of this method of representing
unknown quantities. A general term for the unknown
was yāvat tāvat, shortened to the algebraic symbol yā.
In Brahmaguptas’s work Sanskrit letters appear, which
are the abbreviations of names of different colors,
which he used to represent several unknown quantities.
The letter kā stood for kālaka, meaning “black,” and the
letter nī for nīlaka meaning “blue.” With an efficient
numeral system and the beginnings of symbolic
algebra, the Indians solved determinate and indetermi-
nate equations of first and second degrees and
involving in certain cases more than one unknown. It
is likely that a number of these methods reached the
Islamic world before being transmitted further west-
wards by a similar process and often involving the
same actors as the ones that we discussed earlier in the
spread of Indian numerals.
The beginnings of a systematic study of trigonometry
are found in the works of the Alexandrians, Hipparchus
(ca. 150 BCE), Menelaus (ca. AD 100) and Ptolemy
(ca. AD 150). However, from about the time of
Āryabhat.a I, the character of the subject changed to
resemble its modern form. Later, it was transmitted to
the Arabs who introduced further refinements. The
knowledge then spread to Europe, where the first
1392 Mathematics in India
detailed account of trigonometry is contained in a book
entitled De triangulis omni modis (On All Classes of
Triangles), by Regiomontanus (1464).
In early Indian mathematics, trigonometry formed an
integral part of astronomy. References to trigonometric
concepts and relations are found in astronomical texts
such as Sūryasiddhānta (ca. AD 400), Varāhamihira’s
Pancha Siddhfānta. (ca. AD 500), Brahmagupta’s
Brāhma Sput. a Siddhānta (AD 628) and the great work
of Bhāskara II called Siddhānta Śiroman.i (AD 1150).
Infinite expansion of trigonometric functions, building
on Bhāskara’s work, formed the basis of the develop-
ment of mathematical analysis – a precursor to modern
calculus to be discussed later.
Basic to modern trigonometry is the sine function.
It was introduced into the Islamic world from
India, probably through the astronomical text,
Sūryasiddhānta, brought to Baghdad during the eighth
century. There were two types of trigonometry
available then: one based on the geometry of chords
and best exemplified in Ptolemy’s Almagest, and the
other based on the geometry of semichords which was
an Indian invention. The Arabs chose the Indian
version which prevailed in the development of the
subject. It is quite likely that two other trigonometric
functions – the cosine and versine functions – were
also obtained from the Indians.
One of the most important problems of ancient
astronomy was the accurate prediction of eclipses. In
India, as in many other countries, the occasion of an
eclipse had great religious significance, and rites
and sacrifices were performed. It was a matter of
considerable prestige for an astronomer to demonstrate
his skills dramatically by predicting precisely when the
eclipse would occur.
In order to find the precise time at which a lunar
eclipse occurs, it is necessary first to determine the true
instantaneous motion of the moon at a particular point
in time. The concept of instantaneous motion and the
method of measuring that quantity is found in the
works of Āryabhat.a I, Brahmagupta and Muñjāla (ca.
AD 930). However, it was in Bhāskara II’s attempt to
work out the position angle of the ecliptic, a quantity
required for predicting the time of an eclipse, that we
have early notions of differential calculus. He mentions
the concept of an “infinitesimal” unit of time, an
awareness that when a variable attains the maximum
value its differential vanishes, and also traces of the
“mean value theorem” of differential calculus, the
last of which was explicitly stated by Parameśvara
(1360–1455) in his commentary on Bhāskara’s
Līlāvatī. Others from Kerala (South India) continued
this work with Nīlakan.t.ha (1443–1543) deriving an
expression for the differential of an inverse sine
function and Acyuta Pis.ārat.i (ca. 1550–1621) giving
the rule for finding the differential of the ratio of two
cosine functions.
However, the main contribution of the Kerala school
of mathematician–astronomers was in the study of
infinite-series expansions of trigonometric and circular
functions and finite approximations for some of these
functions. The motivation for this work was the
necessity for accuracy in astronomical calculations.
The Kerala discoveries include the Gregory and
Liebniz series for the inverse tangent, the Liebniz
power series for π, the Newton power series for the sine
and cosine, as well as certain remarkable rational
approximations of trigonometric functions, including
the well-known Taylor series approximations for the
sine and cosine functions. And these results had
been obtained about 300 years earlier than the
mathematicians after whom they are now named.
Referring to the most notable mathematician of this
group, Mādhava (ca. 1340–1425); Rajagopal and
Rangachari (1978) wrote: “(It was Mādhava who) took
the decisive step onwards from the finite procedures of
ancient mathematics to treat their limit-passage to
infinity, which is the kernel of modern classical
analysis.” The growing volume of research into
medieval Indian mathematics, particularly from Kerala,
has refuted a common perception that mathematics in
India after Bhāskara II made “only spotty progress until
modern times” (Eves 1983).
See also: ▶Śulbasūtras, ▶Weights and Measures
in India, ▶Surveying, ▶Technology and Culture,
▶Geometry in India, ▶Arithmetic in India, ▶Bakh-
shālī Manuscript, ▶Almagest, ▶Eclipses, ▶al-Khwār-
izmī, ▶Brahmagupta, ▶Āryabhat.a, ▶Bhāskara,
▶Parameśvara, ▶Nīlakan.t.ha Somayāji, ▶Acyuta Pis.-
ārat.I, ▶Mādhava
References
Primary Sources
Algebra with Arithmetic and Mensuration from the Sanscrit
of Brahmegupta and Bhāscara. Ed. H. T. Colebrooke.
London: Murray, 1817. Rpt. Wiesbaden: Sandig, 1973.
Rangacharya, M. ed. and Trans. Gan.itasāra-sam . graha of
Mahāv īrācārya. Madras: Government Press, 1912.
Sastry, T. S. K. and K. V. Sarma eds. and Trans.
Pañcasiddhāntikā of Varāhamihira. Madras: PPST
Foundation, 1993.
Shukla, K. S. and K. V. Sarma eds. and Trans. Āryabhat. iya of
Āryabhat. a. New Delhi: Indian National Science Academy,
1976.
Secondary Sources
Bag, A. K. Mathematics in Ancient and Medieval India.
Varanasi: Chaukhambha Orientalia, 1979.
Berndt, Bruce and Robert Rankin. Ramanujan: Essays and
Surveys. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Datta, B. and A. N. Singh. History of Hindu Mathematics.
2 Vols. Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1962.
Dauben, Joseph Warren and Christoph J. Scriba eds. Writing
the History of Mathematics: Its Historical Development.
Basel: Birkhäuser, 2002.
Dold-Samplonius, Yvonne, Joseph W. Dauben, Menso
Folkerts, and Benno van Dalen eds. From China to Paris:
2000 Years Transmission of Mathematical Ideas. Proceed-
ings of a Conference held in Bellagio, Italy, May 8-12,
2000 Stuttgart, Germany: Steiner, 2002.
Eves, H. An Introduction to the History of Mathematics. 5th ed.
Philadelphia: Saunders, 1983.
First International Conference of the New Millennium on
History of Mathematical Sciences. Indian Journal of
History of Science 37 (2002): 87–92.
Joseph, George G. The Crest of the Peacock: Non-European
Roots of Mathematics. London: Penguin, 1993.
Mc Carthy, Daniel P. and John G. Byrne. Al-Khwarizmi’s
Sine Tables and a Western Table with the Hindu Norm of
R = 150. Archive for History of Exact Sciences 57 (2003):
243–66.
Rajagopal, C. T. and M. S. Rangachari. On an Untapped
Source of Medieval Keralese Mathematics. Archives for
History of Exact Sciences 18 (1978): 89–108.
Sarma, K. V. A History of the Kerala School of Hindu
Astronomy. Hoshiarpur: Vishveshvaranand Institute, 1972.
Srinivasiyengar, C. N. History of Indian Mathematics.
Calcutta: World Press, 1967.
Subbarayappa, B. V. Numerical System of the Indus Valley
Civilisation. Mimeo, 1993.
Mathematics in Islam
J AN P. H OGENDIJK
Roughly speaking, one can distinguish two types
of mathematics in Antiquity and the Middle Ages: one
is “practical” (or subscientific) mathematics, concerned
with practical calculation, administration, trade, land
measurement, tax collecting, etc. The other is “theoreti-
cal” mathematics, studied either for its own sake, or
connected with astronomy, philosophy, or religion.
The following survey of the history of mathematics
in Islamic civilization will concentrate on “theoretical”
mathematics. “Practical” mathematics in Islamic civili-
zation is of great historical interest, but until recently
the subject has received less attention than it deserves,
perhaps because this kind of mathematics is less
exciting from an intellectual point of view. Therefore
it is not yet possible to give an adequate survey of its
history.
The history of theoretical mathematics in Islamic
civilization is intimately connected with astronomy. In
Iran there was a pre-Islamic astronomical tradition
which simply continued after the country was con-
quered by the Muslims. When the Abbasids came to
Mathematics in Islam 1393
power in 750, an interest in astronomy, and hence
mathematics, developed in the new capital Baghdad.
Iranian astronomy was influenced by Indian astronomy,
and around 775 Indian astronomers and mathematicians
were received at the court of the Caliph, and Sanskrit
astronomical works were translated into Arabic. After
800, the Greek mathematicial and astronomical works
became increasingly popular, and many of these works
were translated into Arabic, including the Elements of
Euclid and the Almagest of Ptolemy, an astronomical
compendium full of very complicated mathematics. In
the rest of this article, the term “Arabic” will be used
in a linguistic sense, referring to Arabic as a scientific
language. Thus “Arabic mathematics” is mathematics
written in the Arabic language; an “Arabic mathemati-
cian” is a mathematician writing in Arabic. The reader
should bear in mind that a large number of these
“Arabic mathematicians” were actually Persians.
The most important traces of the Indian heritage in
the Arabic tradition were the system of numbers and
the sine function (which replaced the Greek chord in
trigonometry). It is possible that early Arabic algebra
was influenced by India to a much greater extent than is
recognized today by most modern historians, many of
whom assume a Babylonian influence, transmitted in
some unknown way. However, the Greek influence was
predominant in Arabic mathematics. It was a living
continuation of Greek mathematics. New areas of
mathematics were developed (algebra, trigonometry),
M
new problems were solved (such as the qibla problem,
determining the direction of Mecca), and a lot of creative
work was done. However, there was no “revolution”
in Arabic mathematics comparable with, for example,
the development of analytic geometry and calculus in
seventeenth-century Europe.
Arithmetic
Various systems of numeration were used by the Arabic
mathematicians and astronomers. Many mathemati-
cians and astronomers used the abjad (alphabetical)
numeration. In this system, the letters of the alphabet
have numerical values 1, 2, …, 9, 10, 20, …, 90, 100,
200, …, 900, 1,000. Almost all astronomical calcula-
tions were performed in a sexagesimal system in which
the sexagesimals were denoted in the abjad system. The
Hindu–Arabic system, consisting of nine symbols
and a zero, was introduced into the Arabic world by
al-Khwārizmī around AD 830, but it was not received
with much enthusiasm. It was only used for large
numbers, for example the tangents of angles near 90°.
In algebraical works, al-Khwārizmī and others did not
use numbers but words, for example “three squares and
four is equal to seven things” (meaning: 3x2 + 4 = 7x in
modern notation). Fractions were denoted in various
1394 Mathematics in Islam
complicated ways, often without any symbolism. In the
tenth century, al-Uqlīdisī used decimal fractions and a
symbol equivalent to our decimal point.
Algebra
The name of this part of mathematics is derived from
al-Khwārizmī’s Kitāb fī’l-jabr wa’l-muqābala (Book
on Restoration and Confrontation). In this treatise
al-Khwārizmī gives a systematic treatment of linear and
quadratic equations. The contents were not new,
because the Babylonians in Iraq were able to solve
quadratic equations 2,000 years before al-Khwārizmī.
However, the treatise is very well written and al-
Khwārizmī gives many worked examples. He treats the
reduction of any linear or quadratic equation to one of
six standard forms ax = b, ax2 = c, ax2 = bx, ax2 + bx = c,
ax2 + c = bx, ax2 = bx + c, and he then gives the
solution of each of these forms: first the procedure for
finding x, and in the case of the last three forms, also a
geometrical motivation using rectangles and squares.
The operation al-jabr, which gave its name to the whole
field of solving equations, means the “restoration” of a
negative term (example: 3x2 – 7x = 4 is “restored” to
3x2 = 4 + 7x). After al-Khwārizmī, Abū Kāmil solved
complicated quadratic equations with irrational coeffi-
cients. In the tenth century, al-Karajī treated various
properties of quadratic irrationals, which Euclid had
proved geometrically. Al-Karajī also discussed cubic
irrationalities, and he explained the extraction of the
root of a polynomial (which is assumed to be a perfect
square). In the tenth and eleventh centuries, cubic
equations were solved geometrically by the intersection
of conic sections, for example by ˓Umar al-Khayyām,
and the theory was perfected by Sharaf al-Dīn al-T.ūsī.
A few mathematicians worked on equations of degree
higher than three, but most of this work seems to
be lost.
Theory of Numbers
Some Arabic mathematicians were interested in
indeterminate equations, i.e., equations with an infinite
number of solutions. The solutions had to be rational
numbers (in the way of Diophantus of Alexandria,
whose Arithmetica was translated into Arabic) or
integers. Examples of the last kind are: find integers
x, y, and z such that x2 + y2 = z2 (such numbers x, y, and
z are the sides of a right-angled triangle); or the famous
problem of “congruent numbers”: find numbers which
are the surface area of a right-angled triangle whose
sides are all integers. In the tenth century it was
believed that no numbers x, y, and z such that
x3 + x3 = z3 existed, but it seems that this fact could
not be proven by means of the mathematical methods
then available.
Some progress was made in the theory of perfect and
amicable numbers. A number is perfect if it is equal to
the sum of its own divisors. Euclid had proved a
formula for even perfect numbers, and four such
numbers were known in antiquity: 6, 28, 496, and
8,128. In or before the thirteenth century, three more
were found by Arabic mathematicians: 33,500,336;
8,589,869,056, and 137,438,691,328. Two numbers
are called amicable if they are the sum of the divisors of
each other. The example 220, 284 was known from
antiquity. Thābit ibn Qurra discovered and proved that
if p, q, and r are three prime numbers of the form
P = 3·2n−1−1, q = 3·2n−1, r = 9·22n−1−1, then the
numbers 2n…pq and 2n…r are amicable. Examples are
the pairs 200, 284 (n = 2) and 17,296, 18,416 (n = 4).
Perhaps the subject of amicable numbers was popular
because of its magical applications, and such applica-
tions may also explain the interest in magic squares,
which continued throughout the Arabic tradition.
The reader should bear in mind that the ancient and
medieval concept of “number” is not necessarily the
same as the modern one. In ancient Greek mathematics,
a “number” was always a positive integer number, or a
fraction (i.e., a ratio between two positive integer
numbers). The Greeks knew that there were propor-
tions in geometry which could not be expressed by this
limited concept of number (such as the ratio between pffiffiffi
the side and diagonal of a square, that is 1 : 2).
Nevertheless, they did not extend their concept of
number to include the modern idea of an irrational or
real number. The reason is that this involves difficulties
with the infinite, which they would have avoided (and
which are carefully hidden in naïve presentations of the
concept of real number in school mathematics). Instead
of working with real numbers, the Greeks developed a
theory of proportions of geometrical magnitudes (for
example, line segments). This theory is found in Book
V of Euclid’s Elements, which was widely studied by
the Arabic mathematicians. In astronomy, one has to
calculate the (approximate) length of segments, which
cannot be represented as a number according to the
orthodox view. Thus it is understandable that the Arabic
mathematicians, most of whom were also astronomers,
came closer to the naive concept of real number, as it is
nowadays taught in schools. Many mathematicians,
such as Sharaf al-Dīn al-T.ūsī, continued to believe that
any rigorous treatment of numbers and algebra had to
be based on the Euclidean theory of proportions.
Geometry
The basic geometrical work in Arabic mathematics was
the Elements of Euclid (ca. 300 BCE). This work was
very thoroughly studied, and more than fifty commen-
taries in Arabic were written, most of which have not

been studied in modern times. Euclid’s parallel postulate
was one of the main points of attention. Most Arabic
mathematicians found this unsatisfactory, and attempts
were made, by Ibn al-Haytham, Nas.īr al-Dīn al-T.ūsī,
and others, to replace it by a more appropriate axiom.
Many other Greek geometrical works were translated
into Arabic, so the Arabic literature is an important
source of new information on Greek geometrical works
which are now lost.
The Arabic mathematicians were very interested in
geometrical constructions. Such constructions should
preferably be made by ruler and compass, that is to say,
by successive intersections of straight lines through two
known points and circles with known centers and radii
(the intersection of such known figures produces new
known points). The most interesting problems from
Greek geometry (trisection of the angle, construction of
two mean proportionals, etc.) cannot be constructed in
this way. The Arabic mathematicians also used conic
sections as means of construction.
Some of the mathematicians were clearly aware that
they progressed beyond the ancient Greeks, and there
was a feeling that the authorship of a geometrical
construction added to one’s prestige as a mathematician.
Some mathematicians even plagiarized others’ works,
as in the case of the regular heptagon. This figure cannot
be constructed by means of ruler and compass, but the
Arabic geometers knew an ancient construction (attrib-
uted to Archimedes) by means of a straight line which
had to be moved in an unclear way until two triangles are
equal. Around 968 Abū’l-Jūd proposed a ruler- and
compass construction of the heptagon. The elementary
error in this construction was soon discovered by al-
Sijzī. The missing link was filled by al-˓Alā’ ibn Sahl by
means of conic sections, and this was then plagiarized by
al-Sijzī (who repented later) and also by Abū’l-Jūd.
Other constructions of the heptagon were found by al-
Qūhī (ca. 970) and Ibn al-Haytham (ca. 1000), who were
both very proud of their achievement. Most mathema-
ticians felt that the heptagon had not really been
constructed by the ancients, and thus the “moderns”
had gone beyond the level reached by the Greeks. A
similar problem was the inscription of an equilateral
pentagon in a given square. This was solved by al-Qūhī,
who stressed that this problem had not been solved by
the ancient geometers.
An important branch of geometry was spherical tri-
gonometry. In the eighth and ninth centuries, spherical
trigonometry developed rather chaotically, in the
context of astronomy and on the basis of a mixture of
Indian and Greek methods. In the tenth century the field
became an independent subject of study, and special
treatises were devoted to it. The Arabic mathematicians
studied the spherical triangle, that is a triangle on a
sphere, such that the “sides” of the triangle are arcs of
Mathematics in Islam 1395
great circles (i.e., circles whose center is the center of
the sphere). In the tenth century, “angles” were also
defined in a spherical triangle, so that a spherical
triangle has six elements, three angles and three sides,
like a plane triangle. The main problem of spherical
trigonometry could now be phrased thus: if three
elements are given, how do we compute the rest?
Treatises on this problem were written by Nas.īr al-Dīn
al-T.ūsī and the eleventh century Spanish mathemati-
cian Ibn Mu˓ādh.
The determination of the qibla (direction of Mecca)
from a locality with given geographical coordinates can
also be regarded as a problem of spherical trigono-
metry. In the eighth and ninth centuries only approxi-
mate solutions of the problem were known, but exact
solutions were found in the ninth century, and tables
were computed in the twelfth century and later.
The Arabic mathematicians devoted much time and
energy to the computation of trigonometrical tables
(sines and tangents) with ever increasing accuracy. The
main difficulty is the determination of the sine of one
degree; since this quantity cannot be expressed in
square roots of rational numbers, the standard approxi-
mation methods fail. Around 1420, al-Kāshī found a
method to approximate the sine of 1° with any degree
of accuracy, using algebra. Al-Kāshī was able to
express this as a root of a cubic equation with known
coefficients, and he developed a very fast algorithm to
approximate the root. He also computed the number π
M
to 16 decimals.
Mathematics and Astronomy
It is historically impossible to separate Arabic mathe-
matics from Arabic astronomy. Astronomy was the
main field of application of mathematics, and calcula-
tions that were done by the astronomers vastly
surpassed those of “practical mathematics” (commerce,
administration, etc.). Many people studied mathematics
in order to become astronomers (or astrologers). One
finds a lot of very interesting mathematics in astronomical
handbooks (zījes). The astronomical problems were
sometimes too difficult to be solved by the methods of
medieval mathematics, or, in cases where the problems
could be solved, the computations were sometimes too
complicated to be performed in a reasonable amount of
time. Therefore, such computations were often simpli-
fied by clever approximation devices, which presup-
pose considerable numerical insight.
Mathematics was also important for astronomy on a
more philosophical level. The philosophical foundation
of Ptolemy’s astronomical models was unacceptable
for some Arabic mathematicians (such as Nas.īr al-Dīn
al-T.ūsī) because some of the circular motions in his
theories of the moon and the planets were nonuniform.
1396 Mathematics in Japan
The later Arabic mathematicians sought to remove
these flaws by adding one or more circles to these
models, producing the same effects as Ptolemy in a
philosophically acceptable way. The most famous
device is the so-called T.ūsī couple, consisting of a
circle of radius r, which rolls along the interior of
a second circle with the double radius 2r. As a result of
this motion, any point on the first circle oscillates on a
fixed straight line.
Transmission
Arabic mathematics influenced the development of
mathematics in medieval Europe in various ways. In
the twelfth century, some Arabic mathematical works
(such as the Arithmetic and the Algebra of al-Khwārizmī)
and Arabic versions of Greek mathematical and astro-
nomical works (such as Euclid’s Elements and Ptolemy’s
Almagest) were translated into Latin, mainly in Spain.
These translations were the beginning of the develop-
ment of mathematics in Christian Europe. The thirteenth
century European mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci
learned mathematics in the city of Bougie in Algeria
and during his travels to other Islamic countries, and he
then wrote various influential mathematical works. The
transmission of mathematics from Arabic to Latin was
far from complete, and until 1450 the level of mathe-
matics in Europe was below that in the Islamic world.
See also: ▶al-Khwārizmī, ▶al-Uqlīdisī, ▶˓Umar
al-Khayyām, ▶al-Karajī, ▶Sharaf al-Dīn al-T.ūsī,
▶Thābit ibn Qurra, ▶Ibn al-Haytham, ▶Nas.īr al-Dīn
al-T.ūsī, ▶al-Sijzī, ▶Ibn Sahl, ▶al-Qūhī, ▶Ibn Mu˓ādh,
▶al-Kāshī, ▶Qibla, ▶Astronomy in Islam, ▶Geo-
metry in Islam
References
Berggren, J. L. Episodes in the Mathematics of Medieval
Islam. New York: Springer, 1986.
Juschkevitch, A. P. 1961. Istoria Matematiki b Srednie Veka.
(History of Mathematics in the Middle Ages.) Translated
into German as: Geschichte der Mathematik im Mittelalter.
Leipzig: Teubner, 1964; the section on Arabic mathematics
was translated into French as: Youschkevitch A.P., Les
mathématiques Arabes (VII e–XV esiècles). Paris: Vrin, 1976.
Kennedy, E. S. Studies in the Islamic Exact Sciences. Beirut:
American University, 1983.
Rosenfeld, B. A History of Non-Euclidean Geometry. New
York: Springer, 1988.
Rosenfeld, B. A. and E. Ihsanoglu. Mathematicians,
Astronomers and Other Scholars of Islamic Civilization
and Their Works (7th–19th c.). Istanbul: Research Center
for Islamic History, Art and Culture, 2003.
Samsó, J. Las Ciencias de los Antiguos en Al-Andalus.
Madrid: MAPFRE, 1992.
Woepcke, F. Études sur les mathématiques arabo-islamiques.
2 vols, Frankfurt: Institut für Geschichte der arabisch-
islamischen Wissenschaften, 1986.
Mathematics in Japan
J EAN -C LAUDE M ARTZLOFF
At various stages of Japanese history, mathematics
developed as a direct consequence of contacts with
foreign cultures, both Chinese and Western. Five
successive waves of cultural influx may be delineated
(1) Chinese wave I, from the seventh to the end of the
ninth century; (2) Chinese wave II, from the end of
the sixteenth to the mid-nineteenth century; (3) Western
wave I, 1543–1639; (4) Western wave II, 1720–1854,
and (5) Western wave III, from 1854 onwards.1
As far as may be surmised, the two Chinese
waves developed independently and were separated
by an interim period of semi-seclusion from continen-
tal influences during which Japanese mathematical
activity subsided.
During Chinese wave I, Japanese mathematics did
not depart significantly from that developed in China
during the same period. This was also the case in Sui
(589–618)2 and Tang (618–907)3 China. Japanese
imperial authorities are said to have founded an elite
school for training future accountants, fiscal officers,
surveyors, calendar makers, and other such practi-
tioners. The teaching of mathematics was based on
the Chinese Suanjing shishu (The Ten Computational
Canons) and not on Japanese autochthonous manuals.
During that period and the following centuries,
mathematics never developed beyond the rudiments.
Fragmentary records such as those of a priest from the
Kenninji temple show that ca. 1311, the Chinese
Jiuzhang suanshu (Computational Prescriptions in
Nine Chapters) from the Han dynasty was studied in
Kyoto. Certain texts known as oraimono (didactic
exchanges of letters) contain, nonetheless, a number
of mathematical recreations such as the problem of
mamakodate (lit., the standing stepchildren). In this
problem, a mother has 15 true children and 15 step-
children; she must eliminate the latter by placing them
in a circle in such a way that starting from some child
and counting clockwise she eliminates every tenth
child until at last only the true children are still
1
This mode of periodization is borrowed from Sugimoto and
Swain (1978).
2
The short-lived Sui dynasty inaugurates a period of relative
stability characterized by the unification of China after
several centuries of disunion.
3
The Tang dynasty is one of the most brilliant in Chinese
history where the Chinese were able to extend their influence
all over Asia, from Iran, Central Asia, India, and of
course Japan.

standing. This problem is reminiscent of the Josephus
puzzle, where children are replaced by Turks – to be
eliminated – and Christians.
During Chinese wave II, a number of Chinese
mathematical texts were imported into Japan on the
occasion of the Japanese military expeditions in Korea
of the 1590s.
One of them, the Suanfa tongzong (Comprehensive
Treatise on Arithmetic), was a compendium of commer-
cial arithmetic. First published in China in 1592, this
manual was mostly intended for abacus calculations
and was very often reprinted in China and Japan until
the twentieth century. However, although strongly
influenced by its Chinese model, Japanese arithmetic
began to develop on its own. In particular, arithmeti-
cians devised a new type of abacus (soroban). It was
composed of five balls for the representation of the
decimal digits of each order of units, instead of seven in
the Chinese case. There were four balls valued at one
unit each and one ball valued at five units, instead of
five balls valued at one unit and two balls valued at five
units. For the first time, the Japanese also wrote
arithmetical books in their own language. One of them,
the Jingōki (Treatise on Numbers Ti and Huge) of
Yoshida Mitsuyoshi (1578–1672), first published in
1627, became so popular that hundreds of plagiarized
versions were published. In its 1641 version, the author
included 12 problems left unsolved and bequeathed to
posterity (idai keishō). Subsequently, this kind of
challenge was often issued and played an important
role in the development of Japanese mathematics. At
first, the custom was limited to more or less trivial
arithmetical problems, but gradually amateur mathe-
maticians imagined complex problems relating, for
example, to the volume of intricate solids (such as those
defined by the intersection of two other solids), or to
chains of circles or spheres tangent to other circles,
spheres, ellipses, or ellipsoids, respectively. When
solutions were found, the solvers published them and
in their turn propounded new enigmas.
A development in mathematics more sophisticated
than arithmetic, however, was triggered by the introduc-
tion into Japan of the Suanxue qimeng (Introduction
to Computational Science), a Chinese algebraic text-
book by Zhu Shijie published in 1299 in Yuan China.
Subsequently forgotten in China for five centuries,
but universally considered by present historians of
Chinese mathematics as representative of the golden
age of Chinese mathematics, this manual was first
reprinted in Korea during the fifteenth century and in
Japan in 1658. At first, the part of this text devoted
to tianyuan (celestial origin) algebra was not well
understood.
This Chinese medieval technique was presented
using a series of artificial problems, with some
intermediary computations and a few cryptic and terse
Mathematics in Japan 1397
sentences apparently having more to do with magic
than mathematics. Moreover, known and unknown
quantities were not distinguished from each other by
special symbols but only by the relative position of
numbers on the counting board, so that mere numbers
in all cases equally represented both kinds of quantities.
Yet, 20 years later, certain scholars began to crack the
code and realized that Zhu Shijie’s algebra was in fact a
powerful weapon capable of mechanically solving all
sorts of intricate problems and particularly those of
the idai new tradition. What is more, these efforts at
last enabled Seki Takakazu, also called Seki Kowa4
(ca. 1742–1708), the son of a samurai who became a
chief Palace accountant, to develop algebra well
beyond the state he had found it in Zhu Shijie’s manual.
Seki was so successful as a mathematician that he
was retrospectively considered the father of a national
tradition called wasan. Wasan is literally Japanese (wa)
and mathematics (san). That is in contrast with yōsan,
Western (yô) mathematics; these two terms were coined
ca. 1870. Although strongly influenced by Zhu Shijie,
and more generally by Chinese models, Seki’s work
marks a certain rupture with mathematics conceived as
collections of isolated problems. Concerning the
elimination of unknowns between polynomial equa-
tions, he imagined a general method which resulted in
an invention of determinants independently of Leibnitz.
He also systematized the Chinese Hornerian methods
for the numerical evaluation of the roots of poly-
M
nomials, computed the decimals of π, and used what we
now call the Bernoulli numbers. Last, but not least, he
created a kind of notational algebra whose symbols
consisted of dissections of Chinese characters which
enabled mathematicians to perform literal (and not
merely numerical) computations in writing rather than
by using counting-rods as the Chinese did. In fact,
Seki’s algebra was not so different from that of Vieta.
Seki Takakazu’s collected works were published in
1974 (Hirayama et al. 1974).
Later mathematicians improved all this. In addition,
questions relating to the precise evaluation of the
circumference, arcs, and chord lengths became so
important that they were conceived as a single domain
called enri (circular principles). Later, this domain was
generalized to the computation of all sorts of infinite
series and to various curves in a way which more or less
evokes Western calculus.
However, Chinese mathematics was not the sole
source out of which Japanese mathematicians devel-
oped their own mathematics. During Western wave I,
a very limited amount of mathematical knowledge of
Western origin (consisting perhaps only of some
mathematical recreations) was introduced into Japan
as a consequence of the diffusion of Catholicism by
Jesuit missionaries. But edicts against Christianity were
issued as early as 1612, and in 1630 a ban on the
1398 Mathematics in Japan
importation of Western books was decreed. During
Western wave II, the ban was progressively removed
and Western mathematical knowledge gradually per-
meated into Japan. In the period from 1720 to 1730,
elementary geometry, plane and spherical trigonome-
try, and even logarithms became accessible through the
medium of Chinese adaptations of European works
such as the Chongzhen lishu (Chongzhen Reign-Period
Compendium of Mathematical Astronomy), an ency-
clopaedic work which marked the start of the reform of
Chinese astronomy in 1644 on the basis of European
knowledge. Later, the Japanese also came into contact
with Western works written not in Chinese but in
Dutch, the language of the Dutch merchants, the sole
Westerners who had relations with Japan. This initiated
the development of a new branch of knowledge called
Rangaku (Dutch learning). A consequence for mathe-
matics of this new learning was the importation of
the Dutch version of John Keill’s (1671–1721)
commentary on Newton’s Principia.
Consequently, elements of European mathematics
were integrated into wasan and new results were
discovered. For example, Takebe Katahiro (1664–1734)
developed an infinite series of the square of the arcsine.
Takebe was a disciple of Seki and a Shogunal advisor
also responsible for new developments in geography
and astronomy. Ajima Naonobu, another distinguished
wasan scholar, independently solved celebrated geo-
metrical problems such as those of Steiner’s chains
of circles (circles mutually tangent inserted between
two non-concentric circles situated one inside the
other) or the so-called Malfatti’s problem about three
circles mutually tangent and inscribed in a triangle.
Less anecdotally, Ajima and later Wada Yasushi
(1787–1840) also elaborated methods for calculating
areas and volumes as limits of infinitesimal rectangles
or parallelepipeds in a way which is reminiscent of the
construction of definite integrals. The achievements of
Japanese autochthonous mathematics were thus quite
high. A fundamental difference between Western and
Japanese mathematics stems from the fact that the latter
was essentially algebraic and developed independently
of axiomatic–deductive reasoning.
While the search for general and systematic methods
concerned more and more mathematicians, an opposite
trend towards solving highly artificial problems con-
ceived as isolated puzzles became still more prominent.
In fact, mathematics was mainly practiced by ‘hobby-
ists’, members of rival schools or even mathematical
sects. Works of wasanists were thus not much diffused.
Original manuscripts were often copied by the disciples
of some master (like Seki) and kept secret. Conse-
quently, no consensus towards uniforming mathemati-
cal notations and concepts ever emerged, even though
towards the end of the eighteenth century some
mathematical works were eventually printed. More
importantly, wasan studies were often condemned by
Confucian elites who judged them ‘mental acrobatics’
and thus futile and socially useless. No official schools
devoted to the study of wasan were ever created.
During the whole Edo period (1698–1868), wasan was
often practiced by rōnin (lordless samurai) who
travelled all over Japan and earned their living by
teaching wasan in private academies or becoming
private tutors at the service of rich merchants.
Unexpectedly, owing to a surprising alliance between
mathematics and religion, wasan became more and
more visible even in the Japanese countryside. From
the end of the seventeenth century, wasan adepts
advertised the achievements of the groups they
belonged to by means of votive tablets (sangaku).
Hung in public view in Buddhist temples and Shinto
shrines, these wooden tablets generally displayed
problems and beautifully engraved geometric figures
(often consisting of mutually tangent figures, especially
circles and triangles) with numerical solutions but no
intermediary calculations. Hundreds of tablets have
survived, and it is still possible to admire them
everywhere in Japan. Moreover, printed anthologies
of such tablets have been published. Such a practice is
unattested anywhere else in the world outside Japan.
Until 1853, despite the importation of a certain
amount of knowledge from China and Europe, Japan
essentially remained isolated. But the partisans of
isolation did not succeed in imposing their policy after
Commodore Matthew C. Perry of the United States had
forced open Japan’s ports. As early as 1855, an Office
for Occidental Learning (Yōgakusho) was created;
one year later, this office was renamed Office for
Investigating Barbarian Documents (Bansho shirabe-
sho). There, government-appointed students learned to
apply mathematics to navigation, shipbuilding, arma-
ments, and other military matters. But radical changes
had to wait the Meiji restoration of 1868. With the
advent of this utterly new era, Western learning was no
longer confined to military affairs and other utilitarian
goals. Wasan was completely abandoned to Western
mathematics. In 1877, the University of Tokyo was
founded. At first, four out of five professors were
foreigners (one American and three French). The
Japanese professor was Kikuchi Dairoku (1885–
1917) who later became Minister of Education.
Kikuchi was an outstanding student who had been
trained at the Bansho shirabesho and sent to Cam-
bridge University; he gave his mathematical lectures in
English. A few years later, however, the best students
of mathematics were appointed professors in their
turn. In 1877, the Tokyo Mathematical Society was
founded. Japanese mathematicians rapidly attained the
same level as that of Western researchers. Many

mathematicians, such as Takagi Teigi (1875–1960)
who contributed to class-field theory and gained
worldwide fame, were trained during this period.
Extra: Seki Takakazu’s Works
Seki Takakazu’s collected works were published in 1974 (Hirayama,
A., K. Shimodaira, and H. Hirose. Takakazu Seki’s Collected Works
Edited with Explanations. Osaka: Osaka Kyoiku Tosho, 1974). This
thick volume has 871 pages comprising (1) various preliminary data
concerning Seki Takakazu: a chronology, his biography, his disciples,
a critical note on his portrait, the location of his tomb, his
mathematical achievements; (2) the main text of his original works,
printed or manuscripts (most often) (576 p); (3) a presentation of the
main text in Japanese (216 p); and (4) a presentation of the main text
in English (83 p). Given the seminal importance of Seki Takakazu for
Japanese mathematics, it is worthwhile to describe his collected
works briefly here.
The collection contains the following 29 original works:
1. Kiku yōmei sampo (1683) [Essential Methods of Calculation
with the Compass and T-Square]. This is his earliest work. It
gives simple calculations concerning the circle, arc of circles and
the sphere; it has only ten pages and contains the first known
Japanese proof of the Pythagorean theorem, in the form of a
Chinese-like dissection.
2. Ketsugishō tōjutsu [Solutions Tō (in the form of jutsu, i.e.
‘prescriptions’) – the Japanese jutsu is the same as the Chinese
shu – [of the 100 unsolved problems] from the Ketsugishō].
Here, the Ketsugishō is the title of a previous work, published in
1659; the expression ketsugi means ‘omitted’, i.e. the original
solutions were not given. Shō = manuscript. For example, the
fourth problem asked for the dimensions of a right-angled
triangle given the sum of its three sides and the difference
between the hypotenuse and the shorter side. Other problems are
more complex and involve square and inscribed circles in a
triangle and solid figures such as wedges, pyramids, or trunks of
a cone. The last problem is about the construction of a 19 × 19
magic square. Most are solved using the algebraic technique
known as tengenjutsu, a variant of the Chinese tianyuanshu.
3. Futsudankai tōjutsu. Futsudankai is the title of a previous
manuscript (1673) containing unsolved problems. The expression
Futsudankai means ‘do not be afraid to change (the answers)’.
This is again a collection of specific problems but they are much
more complex than the two preceding ones. Sometimes, dis-
sections of plane or solid figures into several pieces of unknown
dimensions are given. Again, Seki provides algebraic solutions
depending on the establishment of a polynomial, often of high
degree, with coefficients composed of ten or more digits.
4. Hatsubi sampō. Once again, this work is based on a previous
collection of problems. Here, Hatsubi means something like
‘disclosing subtle [elements]’ and sampō is exactly the same as the
Chinese suanfa, ‘computational methods’ or ‘mathematics’. Here
the problems have several unknowns and the solutions involve
their elimination.
5. Kaihendai no hō [Method of Solving ‘Transparent’ Problems].
This covers the area and volumes of simple plane figures and
solids.
6. Kaindai no hō [Method of Solving ‘Opaque’ Problems]. This work
is more theoretical than the previous ones. It does not consist of a
list of problems but explains how to set and manipulate algebraic
equations. A technique of solving polynomial equations analogous
to Horner’s method is also given.
7. Kaifuku dai no hō [Method of Solving Dissimulated Problems].
Here the expansion of determinants in relation to the process of
elimination of polynomial equations is given.
Mathematics in Japan 1399
8. Kaihō honhen no hō [Method of Solving Various Cases of Root
Extractions]. This covers the tentative classification of polyno-
mial equations and the study of elimination procedures.
9. Daijutsu bengi no hō [Method for Differentiating Problem
Statements and Solutions]. This contains a method of successive
approximations.
10. Byōdai meichi no hō [Method for Clarifying Flawed Problems].
Here one problem has an imaginary root and its statement is
modified in order to let it having a computable root.
11. Hōjin no hō, ensan no hō [Methods for Magic Squares and
Circles].
12. Sandatsu no hō, Kempu no hō. These two titles refer to the
Japanese equivalent of Josephus’s problem (called here sandatsu,
i.e. enumerating a series of elements, san, while skipping some of
them in the count, datsu) and another mathematical game
consisting of remembering letters written on cards.
13. Kyûseki [Finding Volumes and Areas]. These include the area of
an ellipse, analogous to the theorem of Pappus–Guldin. It also
contains a problem concerning the intersection of a torus and a
cylinder.
14. Kyûketsu henkei sō. A draft (sō) concerning the intersection of
solids.
15. Kaihō sanshiki [Computational Configurations for Root Extrac-
tions]. This describes a technique for obtaining several roots of
an equation with an approximation technique equivalent to
Newton’s method of approximation.
16. –19. Katsuyō sampō, 4 vols. [A Compendium of Mathematical
Methods]. This contains a finite summation formula for the sum
of powers with the discovery of the coefficients usually known
as Bernouilli’s numbers. A method for solving simultaneous
congruences of the first degree (Chinese remainder theorem) is
also included, as well as a systematic derivation of polynomial
equations for calculating the length of the side of regular
polygons, from the equilateral triangle to the 20-sided polygon.
The compendium also offers inter alia a derivation of the result
M
π = 3.14159265358.
20. Happō ryakuketsu [Abbreviated Mnemotechnical Tricks
Concerning Eight Methods]. The content of this book is simpler
than the preceding ones; it deals with the equivalence and
conversion of units of length, weight, and volume.
The following seven treatises concern astronomical calculations:
21. Juji hatsumei [An Elucidation of the Shoushi li]. Here,
the Shoushi li is a set of calendrical and astronomical
official techniques, adopted in China from 1281 to 1368, and
from 1368 to 1644 with some minor modifications. Seki explains
the Chinese approximation method for the mutual expression
of the arc and sagitta, by means of special approximation
techniques.
22. Juji rekikei rissei no hō [Methods for Astronomical Tables in the
Shoushi li Canon]. Introduction to the question of the tables for
the motion of the sun and the five classical planets.
23. Juji rekikei rissei [The Astronomical Tables of the Shoushi li
Canon]. Here the tables are fully reproduced.
24. Seiki teisho [Chinese Texts Corrected by Seki]. The text in
question is the Tianwen dacheng jiyao (An Abridgment of the
Great Sum of Astrology), a Chinese astrological treatise
published in 1659.
25. Siyō sampō [Methods of Calculation of the Four Yō]. The ‘four
yō’ are four invisible and imaginary celestial bodies used in
Chinese astrology.
26. Shukuyō sampō [Calculation of the Astrological Chinese
Mansions].
27. Temmon sûgaku zatcho [Various Mathematical and Astronomi-
cal Works]. Various notes, mainly on eclipses, with numerous
geometrical drawings.
1400 Mathematics in Korea
Lastly, the collection also contains the following:
28. Sampō kyojō (Mathematical Diploma). This is an attestation
awarded by Seki to one of his disciples, in 1704. The document
gives a list of all the subjects mastered by him.
29. Hatsubi sampō endan genkai [Explanation of the Endan
Methods of Solution Concerning Subtle Computational Meth-
ods]. Here, the endan is a special algebraic notation borrowing
its name from Chinese mathematics, but it is more complex than
the original since the unknowns are denoted by special
expressions (Chinese characters) and not only by the relative
positions of numbers.
The reader will find many more details in the aforementioned book,
with some examples of problems and mathematical techniques fully
worked out.
See also: ▶Takebe Katahiro, ▶Ajima Naonobu,
▶Magic and Science, ▶Seki Kowa, ▶Magic Squares
in Japan
References
Fuji Tanki Daigaku (Fuji Junior College). Sūgaku shi kenkyū
(Researches on the History of Mathematics), 1959 to the
present.
Hirayama, Akira. Wasan no tanjō (The Birth of Wasan).
Tokyo: Koseisha, 1993.
Hirayama, Akira and Motohisa Matsuoka, ed. Naonobu
Ajima s’ Complete Works. Tokyo: Fuji Junior College,
1966 (in Japanese with English Explanations).
Hirayama, Akira, Kazuo Shimodaira, and Hideo Hirose, ed.
Takakazu Seki’s Collected Works. Osaka: Kyoiku Tosho,
1974 (in Japanese with English Explanations).
Honda, Kin-ya. Teiji Takagi: A Biography – On the 100th
Anniversary of His Birth. Tokyo: Seorsum Imperessum ex
vol. 24, fasc. II Conunentariorum Mathematicorum Uni-
versitatis Sancti Pauli, 1975. 141–67.
---. A Survey of Japanese Mathematics During the Last
Century. Japanese Studies in the History of Science 16
(1977): 1–16.
Horiuchi, Annick. Les mathématiques japonaises à l’époque
d’Edo. Paris: Vrin, 1994.
Martzloff, Jean-Claude. A Survey of Japanese Publications
on the History of Japanese Traditional Mathematics
(Wasan) from the Last 30 Years. Historia Mathematica
17.4 (1990): 366–73.
Nihon Gakushiin (Japanese Academy). Meiji zen Nihon
sûgaku shi (History of Pre-Meiji Japanese Mathematics). 5
vols. Iwanami Shoten, Tokyo: 1954–1960.
Nihon no sūgaku 100 nen shi henshū i-inkai (Committee for
the Compilation of the History of Japanese Mathematics
During the Last 100 Years). Nihon no sūgaku 100 nen shi
(Japanese Mathematics During the Last 100 Years). 2 vols.
Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1983.
Ōya, Shin’ichi. Wasan izen (Japanese Mathematics Prior to
Wasan). Tokyo: Chūō kōron sha, 1980.
Smith, David Eugene and Yoshio Mikami. A History of
Japanese Mathematics. Chicago: Open Court Publishing
Company, 1914.
Sugimoto, Masayoshi and David L. Swain. Science and
Culture in Traditional Japan AD 600–1854. Cambridge,
Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 1978.
Mathematics in Korea
K IM Y ONG -W OON
During the Shilla dynasty (59 BCE–AD 935), in
AD 682, Korea established its official mathematical
system under the influence of the mathematics of
China (Tang dynasty) whose primary structure was
algebra (theory of equations) and whose philosophi-
cal background was yin-yang theory. It was an
educational program designed to train professional
mathematicians, and it prescribed the number of
mathematicians to be trained and the length of
study and curricula, and it remained the official
mathematical system to the end of the Chosun dynasty
in 1910.
The system soon died out in China. It was revived in
the Song dynasty, but failed to become an official
system again. Meanwhile, Japan set up its mathematics
system under the influence of the Paekche and Shilla
dynasties in Korea. The Taihorei of 710 clearly defined
its contents, but this too soon became extinct. In China
and Japan official mathematics ceased to exist, but
civilian mathematics prospered. Korea, on the contrary,
was fundamentally different from these two countries
(see Table 1).
The arrangement of the Shilla curriculum here is
hypothetical; originally only the names of the four
subjects were given. The length of study for Korea, 9
years, is for classical studies; whether this applied to
mathematics and other technical fields is yet to be
explored.
In China during the Tang, there were different
qualifications for the guozixue (National Academy) in
mathematics and other fields. In Korea and Japan,
qualifications also differed by field.
The Koryo dynasty (918–1392) continued using the
Shilla mathematical system in a slightly changed
version. Whereas the Koryo continued to use Nine
Chapter Arithmetic, the Continuation Technique, and
Three Opening Arithmetic, they discontinued Six
Chapter Arithmetic and began to use Saga.
The Chosun dynasty (1392–1907) strengthened the
system of its predecessors and the standard text books
were completely changed. The texts include Sanmyon
arithmetic, Yonghui arithmetic, Sanhak Kaemong ari-
thmetic for bureaucrats, and arithmetic for surveying.
In the Chosun dynasty, the study of mathematics
was encouraged to fill administrative needs and was
incorporated into the official system. During the reign
of King Sejong (AD 1419–50), a Bureau of Mathemat-
ics and an Agency for Calendars were created, and
mathematics was revived to match the level of the
Koryo dynasty (936–1392). The positions of Sanhak

Mathematics in Korea. Table 1 Mathematics education systems in Korea, China, and Japan around the seventh century AD
Country Enrollment Admission qualifications
age
Korea 15–30 Taesa (grade 12 in a hierarchy of
(Shilla) 17 grades) and those who had no
AD 682 official positions
China 14–19 Children of grade 8, and lower-
(Tang) grade public officials
AD 624
Japan 13–15 Children of grade 8, and higher-
AD 710 grade public and local officials
paksa (Doctor of Mathematics), Sanhak Kyosu (Pro-
fessor of Mathematics), and Sansa (mathematician)
were created.
The Chosun dynasty attached great importance to
mathematics from the beginning, and the bureaucrats
in charge of the technical civil service examinations in
10 fields began to play a greater role, ultimately
forming the new social class of chungin (middle men).
The chungin class is considered unique in the history
of the world. (The term began to be used officially
during the reign of King Sukchong (1675–1720)).
As technocrats, they were recruited through compar-
atively low-level civil service examinations. Most of
them came from the chungin class. It does not mean
that a son inherited his father’s position; rather it
seems that intermarriage among the chungin contrib-
uted to the preservation of the tradition. Among
them, mathematicians showed an especially strong
tendency toward preserving this hereditary tradition.
The roster of successful candidates in the tests for
mathematicians and the position of Sanhak Sonsaeng
(mathematics teachers) list a total of 1,627 during 300
years from the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries.
Their fathers’ occupations were as follows: 124
herbalists, 75 translators, and 6 astronomers; the rest
were mathematicians.
The mathematicians of the chungin class lived in a
very closed society. As many of the books they wrote
have been lost, and only fragmentary information is
available, it is difficult to evaluate their achievements,
either as a group or as individuals. A typical
mathematician of the chungin is Hong Chong-ha, a
professor of mathematics, who wrote an eight-volume
(plus a supplement) Kuilchip (Nine Chapters on
Arithmetic in One) which is still extant today. He was
born in 1684 into a typical chungin family of mathema-
ticians; his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and his
wife’s father were all mathematicians.
Mathematics in Korea 1401
Subjects Length
of study
Six-chapter arithmetic, nine-chapter arithmetic, 9 years
three opening arithmetic, continuation technique or
longer
Nine-chapter arithmetic, calculation of distance to 7 years
a far-off island, Sun Zi’s arithmetic for five
government bureaus, Zhang Guijian’s arithmetic
calculation and gnomon continuation technique,
topics in number three standard mathematics
Nine-chapter arithmetic, calculation of distance 7 years
to a far-off island, Sun Zi’s arithmetic, three
opening arithmetic, continuation technique,
six-chapter arithmetic
From his book, we find the following. First,
mathematicians of the day were quite unfamiliar with
the course of events in China, whereas the literati of the
yangban class maintained direct contact with Chinese
culture and with European culture through China. The
mathematicians were bound by the old system and
continued using only the traditionally handed-down
manuals; they had no access to Chinese translations of
Western mathematics books. Second, tianyuan shu
(Horner’s approximation theorem for an equation with
real coefficients) and the calculation rod thrived in M
Korea throughout the Chosun dynasty, long after they
had ceased to be used and had been replaced by the
abacus in China after the establishment of the Ming
dynasty. Japanese mathematics in the Edo period
(1603–1867) is called wasan. The origin of wasan is
Chinese mathematics, but the Japanese replaced the
calculation rod with handwriting and eventually
developed it into symbolic algebra. Korean mathema-
ticians were then isolated from the outside world and
from European mathematics which had already found
its way into China, but they preserved traditional
mathematics using the calculation rod.
One of the other mathematical trends in the Chosun
dynasty was yangbans (nobles). Ch’oe Sok-chong was
a mathematician of noble birth who was a great admirer
of classical Chinese philosophy. As the author of
Kusuryak (Concise Nine Chapter Arithmetic), similar
in its style of description to that of early European
monastic mathematics books, he was a “Boethius
(480–525) of the Orient.” Boethius’s mathematics was
theological, metaphysical, and number-theory cen-
tered. Both gave a touch of mysticism to numbers,
and Ch’oe studied magic squares of various types:
circle, square, hexagon, etc. The hexagon denotes
“water” in Chinese traditional philosophy, and Korean
mathematicians attempted to indicate some philosoph-
ical meanings by means of mathematics.
1402 Mathematics in Korea
Culture and Mathematics
King Sejong wanted all the branches of Asian learning –
Confucianism, linguistics, music, astronomy, herbal
medicine, and agriculture – to be in the service of his
country. Unlike the Greek system of learning that
branched off into mathematics, natural sciences, and
metaphysics, the Eastern system tended to integrate all
fields of learning into a whole. This was typified by
classical Chinese studies (compare this with the Western
trivium and quadrivium). For example, in the reform of
music and the creation of the Korean alphabet, King
Sejong remained true to the orthodox Asian view of
learning and was content with being a true inheritor
of Eastern culture. His policy for the promotion of
mathematics did not seek any new paradigm.
Sirak
Sirak is the Korean version of the neo-Confucian
concept of “practical learning,” similar in nature to
jitsugaku in Japan and shixue in China. It was active for
about 300 years, from the mid-sixteenth to the mid-
nineteenth centuries. Descriptions of some of the
prominent mathematicians and their works follow.
Yi Sugwang (1563–1628) wrote Chibong yusol
(Chibong’s Miscellany) which treats astronomy, geog-
raphy, bureaucracy, belles-lettres, human behavior,
technology, and even birds, animals, and insects.
Typical of this encyclopedic coverage is Ojuyon
mun-jangjon san’go (An Oju’s Multitude of Articles
and Essays) by Yi Kyu-gyong (b. 1788) in 60 volumes,
which contained 1,400 entries relating to the problems
of all ages and countries. He had a very practical
outlook, and in a commentary on the original text of a
geometry book, he regarded surveying as the primary
purpose of its study.
Ch’oe Han-gi (1803–79) is said to have broken with
the traditional position of neo-Confucianism and
become an activist philosopher, adhering to thorough-
going empiricism. But he too remained orthodox in his
attitude to arithmetic, as is evident in his comment, “By
the degree of knowledge one has acquired in
arithmetic, we can judge one’s insight; we can see
whether one’s attitude is reasonable or not by judging if
one’s reasoning is arithmetical.”
In 1765 Hong Tae-yong (1731–83) visited a
Catholic church in Beijing, China, and acquired first-
hand knowledge of Western culture. He conversed with
Hallerstein, the Chief Astronomer, and his deputy
Gogeisl at a Chinese astronomical observatory, thereby
broadening his knowledge of astronomy. His work
Tamhonso (Tamhon’s Writings) treats mathematics and
astronomy in Vols. 4–6 of Book II. Hong consciously
discussed the infinite; he was the first Korean to discuss
an infinite Universe, and he also mentioned infinite
decimals in discussing the value of π.
At the end of the Chosun dynasty a new movement
in mathematics arose. Nam Pyong-gil (1820–1859)
and Yi Sang-hyok (1810–), perhaps the two greatest
arithmeticians at the time, did not belong to the Sirak
school. None of the sirak scholars specialized in
arithmetic. But Nam was born into a yangban family,
and Yi was a professional arithmetician of the chungin
lineage. They joined hands in the study of arithmetic.
Nam’s works include many arithmetic books, but he
made them look new by adding illustrated explanations.
There is no trace of metaphysical view, a dominant
characteristic of the works of other yangban scholars.
Yi Sang-hyok was a typical chungin arithmetician.
After passing the national test, he was assigned to an
astronomical observatory as a budget officer. Among his
works are some astronomical books and the following
books on arithmetic: Iksan: Ch’agunbop monggu
(Winged Mathematics: Hypothetical Method for the
Theory of Roots) and Sanhak Kwan-gyon (A Brief
Survey of Arithmetic). The first title probably implies
“mathematics of two wings,” one wing referring to
traditional arithmetic, and the other to modern arithme-
tic. Ch’agunbop monggu is an explanatory book on
European algebraic equations, while Sanhak Kwan-
gyon presents Yi’s creative study of mathematics. Yi’s
single-minded devotion to higher mathematics, ignor-
ing the traditional patterns of thought when classic
arithmetic was reviving, leads us to assume that this type
of mathematical research may have prevailed among
chungin scholars at that time.
Classical official Korean mathematics maintained its
continuity without any fundamental changes from the
seventh century (Shilla dynasty) to the beginning of the
twentieth (the end of the Chosun dynasty).
The Chosun dynasty had three groups of mathema-
ticians: the chungin, the yangban, and the sirak. The
sirak school searched for new mathematics as seen in
collaboration between yangban and chungin mathe-
maticians. But their study of European mathematics
was limited to algebraic equations and geometry at
best, and they never went much beyond the traditional
Chosun dynasty mathematics even when they accepted
European mathematics. The works of Hong Tae-yong,
allegedly the most progressive of all Sirak mathema-
ticians, differ from other classical manuals only in that
they dealt with practical applications of old principles.
At the end of the Chosun dynasty, some of the
chungin mathematicians attempted an original study in
mathematics, breaking with the old traditions. But they
too were limited by the prevailing intellectual climate,
which hindered understanding and assimilation of
modern mathematics.
Korean mathematicians made little effort to change
fundamentally the mathematics which originated in
China, they did not yield to foreign influence, and they
maintained the classical mathematics of the East

to the last (to the end of the Chosun dynasty) even
when Chinese and Japanese mathematics underwent
drastic changes.
See also: ▶Yinyang, ▶Sun Zi, ▶Zhang Qiujian,
▶Computation: Chinese Counting Rods, ▶Surveying
References
Primary Sources
Korean:
Kyonggjuk taejon (National Code)
Munhon bigo (Record of Official Documents)
Samguk saki (A History of Three Kingdoms)
Sanhak ipkyok (A Roster of the Successful Examinees in the
State Examinations for Mathematicians)
Sanhakja Palsebo (Genealogy of Mathematicians for Eight
Generations)
Yijo Sirok (Authentic History of Yi Dynasty)
Japanese:
Meiji zen no nihon sugaku (Japanese Mathematics before
Meiji). Tokyo: Iwanami, 1967.
Nihon shoki (The Chronicles of Japan).
Chinese:
Taitang luidian
Zhongguo kexuejishu-diangi tonghui (Complete Works on
Chinese Science and Technology) Mathematics. Vols. 1–5.
Ed. Guo Shuchun. Beijing: Henan Publishing House, 1993.
Secondary Sources
Horng, Wann-Sheng. Sino-Korean Transmisson of Mathe-
matical Texts in the 19th Century: A Case Study of Nam
Pyong-gil’s Kugo Sulyo Tohae. Historia Scientiarum.
12 (2002): 87–99.
Kim, Y. W. Introduction to Korean Mathematics History.
Korea Journal 13.7 (1973): 16–23; 8: 26–32; 9: 35–9.
---. Han’guk suhak-sa (A History of Korean Mathematics).
Seoul: Yolhwa-dang, 1982.
---. Pan Paradigm and Korean Mathematics in Chosun
Dynasty. Korea Journal 26.3 (1986): 24–46.
Kim, Y. W. and Y. G. Kim. Kankoku sugakusi (A History of
Korean Mathematics). Tokyo: Maki Shoten, 1978.
Li, Wenlin, Xu Zelin, and Feng Lisheng. Mathematical
Exchanges Between China and Korea. Historia Scientiar-
um: International Journal of the History of Science Society
of Japan. 9.1 (1999): 73–83.
Mathematics of the Maghreb
(North Africa)
A HMED D JEBBAR
In discussing the mathematical activity which occurred
within the framework of Arab-Islamic civilization, it is
not possible to speak of one specific tradition from the
medieval Maghreb, nor still less of specific traditions
Mathematics of the Maghreb (North Africa) 1403
from each of the three regions of the Maghreb-Ifrīqyā,
the central Maghreb, and the far Maghreb. Indeed, there
has been one Arab mathematical tradition, born and
developed in the East, partially transmitted to the
Muslim cities of the west of Central Asia and then,
later, to southern Europe by the intermediary of Latin
and Hebrew translations. This tradition was assimilated,
revived, and enriched by different scientific milieux.
Mathematics in the Maghreb from the Ninth
to the Eleventh Centuries
Considering the close economic, political, and cultural
ties which linked the Maghreb with the Andalus, it is not
possible to separate the mathematical activities which
took place in these two regions of the Muslim West.
Indeed, the period which extends from the end of the
eighth century to the end of the eleventh was character-
ized by the development of two scientific traditions
linked to each other and brought to life by scholars who,
apart from social divisions and differences in laws and
religion, were united by the cultural and scientific
environment which was made up of exchanges between
the Andalus and the Maghreb, and of frequent contacts
with the cities of the east – Baghdad, Damascus, and,
later, Cairo.
That being said, the beginnings of scientific
activities in the Andalus and the Maghreb are not well
known. Indeed, information on the earliest mathemati-
M
cal activities of the region is rare and not very specific.
But it is reasonable to state that, during the period of
installation and consolidation of Arab-Islamic power,
the development of the study and teaching of the
Arabic language and of the different religious sciences
of the period probably favored the teaching of sciences
like medicine and arithmetic, which answered the
needs of certain fringes of urban society (in particular,
caring for the wealthy and administrating the distribu-
tion of inheritances).
In the Andalus, it is likely that from the beginning of
the ninth century, the first translations of Greek and
Indian works appeared in Cordoba from the centers of
the empire and served to bring scientific learning to
everyone from children to rulers. This was the case, for
example, for ˓Abd ar-Rah.mān II (822–852) who
benefited from this education and, in turn, actively
supported further scientific activity by financing the
establishment of an important library with works bought
in the East. But it was not until the middle of the ninth
century that scientific centers began to exist indepen-
dently, outside the walls of palaces and princely
mansions, in Cordoba, Toledo, Seville, and Saragossa.
During the last third of the ninth century and
throughout the tenth the activities of teaching and
research in the different branches of mathematics were
greatly stimulated by the patronage of two great
1404 Mathematics of the Maghreb (North Africa)
Umayyad caliphs, ˓Abd ar-Rah.mān III (912–961) and
his son al-H.akam II (961–976). These activities
continued in the eleventh century with the blossoming
of important scientific centers in capital cities of
principal states which, in turn, stemmed from the
brilliance of the caliphate of Cordoba.
The information which exists today about scientific
activities in the Maghreb leads one to believe that the
beginnings of mathematics, on the scale of all of
the Maghreb, occurred in Ifrīqyā (present day Tunisia)
as early as the end of the eighth century. Among the
scholars whose names are still known is Yah.yā
al-Kh.arrāz, who had as a student Yah.yā al-Kinānī
(828–901), the author of the first book of h.is’ (control
of weights and measures) written in the Maghreb.
From the ninth century, the name of only one
mathematician remains, Abū Sahl al-Qayrawānī, of
Iraqi origin. He is also the first Maghrebian mathema-
tician whose book is known: Kitāb fi al-h.isāb al-hindī
(Book of Indian Mathematics). As the title indicates,
the book was in the new Arabic arithmetical tradition,
of Indian origin, which had been inaugurated by
mathematicians in Baghdad at the end of the eighth
century and the beginning of the ninth.
As in other regions of the Islamic world, patronage
of scientific activity was prevalent in the Maghreb and
functioned as it did in the great cities of the East, with
the purchase of books, the financing of manuscript
copies, grants to scholars, and the construction of
schools and institutions. The only precise information
we have is on the Bayt al-h.ikma (House of Wisdom)
founded by Ibrāhīm II (875–902) in Raqqāda. This
institution, which survived as a scientific center
until the Fatimid dynasty, welcomed mathematicians,
astronomers, and astrologers.
Maghrebian mathematical activity of the tenth
century is not well known. It seems that the patronage
initiated by the Aghlabids in the ninth century
continued and that the study of mathematics and
astronomy flourished, particularly in the course of the
first two decades of the reign of the Fatimid Caliph
al-Mu˓izz (953–975). But biographers have given us
only a few names of people who were known for their
mathematical activities or their interest in the disci-
pline, such as Ya˓qūb ibn Killīs (d. 990) and al-Huwarī
(d. 1023). To these names must be added the names of
scholars who came under the influence of the
intellectual centers of the Umayyad Andalus or of
Fatimid Egypt, like Ibn Yāsīn and al-˓Utaqī.
We are somewhat better informed about mathemati-
cal activity in the eleventh century, but information is
still fragmentary. Some scholars of this period are well
known, for example Ibn Abir-Rijāl (d. 1034–1035) and
Abū’1-S.alt (1067–1134). They wrote on mathematics,
astronomy, and astrology, but only certain of their
works in the latter two disciplines survive.
Mathematics in the Maghreb in the Almohad
Period (Twelfth to Thirteenth Centuries)
Much is known about the importance of the twelfth
century in the political and economic history of the
Maghreb. But the cultural and scientific history of that
period remains a vast, unexplored field. For example,
in the field of mathematics, only three scholars of this
period have been the subject of research studies. They
are Abū Bakr al-H.as.s.ār (twelfth century), Ibn al-
Yāsamīn (d. 1204), and Ibn Mun˓im (d. 1228). These
three scholars are important because of several factors.
The first is that they were the first mathematicians in
the Maghreb whose writings have survived.
The full name of al-H.as.s.ār is Abū Bakr Muh.ammad
ibn ˓Abdallāh ibn ˓Ayyāsh al-H.as.s.ār. It appears that in
addition to his mathematical activities, he was also a
reader of the Qu˒rān and a specialist in inheritances. It
is also probable that he lived a long time and that he
taught in Sebta, since he seems to have had ties with
other mathematicians in that city. Only two of his
writings have survived. The first, entitled Kitāb al-
bayān wat-tadhkār (Book of Demonstration and
Memorization) is a manual of calculation dealing
basically with arithmetical operations on whole
numbers and fractions. His second book is entitled
Kitāb al-kāmil f ī s.inā ˓at al-˓adad (Complete Book on
the Art of Numbers). It was in two volumes, but only
the first volume is extant. It takes up the themes of the
first book, with new chapters on the breakdown of a
number into prime factors, on common divisors, and on
common multiples.
Reference to al-H.as.s.ār in two Andalusian works
which are now lost leads us to the conclusion that, in
one way or another, the Andalusian arithmetical
tradition was present in the Maghreb in the twelfth
century. This presence was reinforced, moreover, both
by the direct diffusion of Andalusian works on algebra,
geometry, and astronomy and by the utilization of the
contents of the works of al-H.as.s.ār by later Maghrebian
mathematicians like Ibn Mun˓im, Ibn al-Bannā˒
(d. 1321), and Ibn Ghāzī (d. 1513).
It appears that al-H.as.s.ār lived before Ibn al-Yāsamīn,
but there is no way to verify that fact. However, the
contents of their mathematical writings are quite similar
insofar as they are written in the Andalusian tradition of
the twelfth century, and they expand that tradition by the
introduction of symbolism for certain objects and
certain arithmetical operations and by the important
development of a chapter on fractions.
We can say nothing about the works of Ibn Mun˓im
on geometry or on the construction of magic squares, as
they have not yet been discovered. But we are better
informed about his writings on combinatory analysis,
arithmetic, and number theory. The Fiqh al-h.isāb
(Science of Calculation), his only surviving text,

contains the usual chapters of calculation manuals,
dealing with the four arithmetic operations applied
to whole numbers and to fractions, but also chapters
at a higher level which deal with extraction of the
exact or approximate root of a number, the properties
of figurative numbers, the sum of series of whole
numbers, and the determination of amicable numbers.
It is not known what the importance of mathematical
activity in Marrakesh was at the time that Ibn Mun˓im
settled there. He himself is not specific about the
Maghrebian mathematicians of his time or their
predecessors. On the other hand, he refers very
specifically to Andalusian scholars, citing their names,
titles of their works, and even passages of their writings.
This only serves to confirm the important scientific
ties between the Maghreb and the Andalus, ties which
were considerably strengthened in the fields of science
and philosophy during the reigns of the first four
Almohād caliphs, from 1130 to 1213.
It is important to note that the writings of al-H.as.s.ār,
Ibn al-Yāsimīn, and Ibn Mun˓im were not the only
writings which were studied. Indeed, one can cite the
names of several whose work may have been just as
important: Abū’l Qāsim al-Qurashī (d. 1184) who
taught algebra in Bougie, al-Qād. ī al-Sharīf (d. 1283)
who was a student of Ibn Mun˓im in Marrakesh, al-
Qal˓ī (d. 1271) who also lived in Bougie and who
taught the science of inheritances, and Ibn Ish.aq al-
Tūnusī (d. after 1218), who was known for important
work in astronomy. Unfortunately, none of the
mathematical writings of these scholars remains, and
we cannot even speculate on their contents.
The Mathematics of Ibn al-Bannā˒
and Commentaries on His Work (Fourteenth
to Fifteenth Centuries)
In the history of scientific activity in the Maghreb, the
fourteenth century is a special time, not only because of
the quantity of mathematical work, but also because
of the content of that work and its influence on the
teaching of mathematics in the Maghreb in the
centuries to follow.
The majority of mathematical work done in this
century was reviews, in the form of commentaries and
summaries of work which had already been discovered
or assimilated in the course of previous centuries. New
contributions were the exception. The work of the
mathematician Ibn al-Bannā˒ (1256–1321) becomes
even more important in this light, since he was both one
of the last innovators in the great Arab mathematical
tradition and also one of the initiators of a new tradition
in the teaching of mathematics.
Ibn al-Bannā˒ was born and raised in Marrakesh
where he also died, but he also lived and taught in Fez for
a period. He seems to have been one of the last scholars
Mathematics of the Maghreb (North Africa) 1405
to have engaged in research activity in that he grappled
with problems which were new at that time and to which
he found original solutions, for example in combinatory
analysis. He also introduced original ideas or processes
in algebra (on the existence of solutions to a second
degree equation) and in calculus (on nondecimal bases).
Ibn al-Bannā˒ was also notable for the richness and
diversity of his work. In the inventory which Ibn
Haydūr (d. 1413) made of his writings, he records 98
titles, 32 of which deal with mathematics and
astronomy. This may have been the reason for the high
social status he enjoyed, being honored by the highest
authorities in the far Maghreb, which led him to leave
Marrakesh and settle in Fez for a period of time.
Ibn al-Bannā˒ wrote on geometry and an important
work on algebra which was used as a teaching text in
the Maghreb until the fifteenth century. But it is his
writings on the science of calculation which have made
him famous. Three of them remain in existence: the
Talkhīs. a˓māl al-h.isāb (Summary of the Operations of
Computation), al-Qānūn fi l-h.isāb (Canon of Mathe-
matics), and the Raf ˓al-h.ijāb (Lifting of the Veil).
While the third title is the most important in
mathematical terms, it is the first which is best known.
A manual on the operations of calculation, it is
characterized by great conciseness, rigor in its
formulation, and especially, by a total absence of
mathematical symbolism. For these reasons, many
mathematicians after Ibn al-Bannā have published
M
commentaries on this manual.
A comparative study of the most important chapters
of these commentaries leads to the following observa-
tions on their content and on the general level
of mathematics at that time. First, that the level of
mathematics was not lower than that of earlier periods
but that certain themes which had been taught since the
tenth century no longer appear. Second, there are no
new contributions in the commentaries, neither on the
theoretical level nor on the level of the applications of
ideas or earlier techniques. The most significant
innovation in the commentaries is in the progressive
utilization of a relatively elaborate symbolism. This
symbolism had already appeared in the writings of
al-H.as.s.ār and Ibn al-Yāsamīn, but its use seems to have
taken hold throughout the thirteenth century and the
beginning of the fourteenth. It reappeared in certain
commentaries in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,
both in arithmetic and in algebra.
Mathematics in the Maghreb After the Fifteenth
Century
The activities of mathematicians from the Maghreb
who lived between the sixteenth and nineteenth
centuries are not clearly known, but it is possible to
get an idea of their contributions from the titles of
1406 Mathematics: Maya mathematics

writings which still exist. The mathematical disciplines

which were taught or treated in the writings are metric
geometry and calculation. It is possible to affirm that the
content of these works differs from that of earlier
mathematical writing both in form and level. There are
poems, for example, those of al-Akhd. arī (d. 1575) and
al-Wansharīsī (d. 1548), glosses and commentaries like
those of Ibn al-Qādī (d. 1616) and Muh.ammad Bannīs
(d. 1798), and summaries like those of Ibrāhīm al-Ribāt.ī
(d. 1926). But the level of these works is inferior to those
of the fifteenth century, which are themselves much
poorer than works of the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, both in ideas and techniques. The same is true
in other sectors of intellectual activity in the Maghreb
which were characterized by a narrowing of the
respective domains of investigation and an impoverish-
ment of their contents. This situation, the result of a long
process of decline, had an indirect effect in mathematics
in a gradual reduction both of content and in the field of
application. Thus, the only activities left to mathema-
ticians, aside from teaching and editing manuals, were
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 1 A kneeling
mathematical practices linked directly to activities or Maya scribe (drawing by Closs after Clarkson, 1978).
preoccupations of a religious nature, like the distribution
of inheritance, and donations to rightful claimants, the
determination of times for fixing moments of prayer, or
the construction and use of astronomical instruments. scroll containing bar and dot numerals. Beginning at
the armpit, the sequence of numerals runs 13, 1, 2, 3, 4,
See also: ▶Ibn al-Yāsimin, ▶Ibn Mun˓im, ▶Ibn al- 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. Often, non-numerical crescents or
Bannā˒ other fillers were used to create a more aesthetic
balance for the numeral.
In some records, these simple numerals are used
References to count objects, in particular to specify the quantity
Aballagh, M. Raf ˓al-h.ijāb d’Ibn al-Banna˒. Thèse de of offerings of a particular type. However, the
Doctorat, Paris I-Sorbonne, 1988. overwhelming usage occurs in calendrical and chrono-
Aissani, Djamil. Le mathématicien Eugène Dewulf (1831– logical contexts. In the former, the numerals appear
1896) et les manuscrits médiévaux du Maghreb. Historia
as coefficients in the Maya calendars of 260 and 365
Mathematica 23 (1996): 257–68.
Djebbar, A. Mathématiques et Máthématiciens du Maghreb, days. The former consisted of the cycle of numbers
Médiéval (IX e–XVI e siècles): Contribution à l’étude des from 1 to 13 paired with a cycle of 20 day names. As
activités scientifiques de l’Occident musulman. Thèse de the days went by, both the number and the day name
Doctorat, Université de Nantes, France, 1990. would simultaneously advance in their respective
Souissi, M. Talkhīs. a˓māl al-h.isāb. Tunis:Université de cycles, thus generating a sequence of 260 distinct
Tunis, 1969. dates. The second calendar was a civil year composed
of 18 “months” of 20 days each and a residual “month”
of 5 days. The days within a given month were
numbered consecutively from the first to the penulti-
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics mate by prefixing the proper numeral to the appropriate
month name. The last day was sometimes indicated
by prefixing a special sign having the sense of “end” to
M ICHAEL P. C LOSS the month name. However, the more common practice
was to prefix a sign signifying “seating” to the
The common numerical notation of the Maya following month and thereby identify the last day of
employed combinations of “bars”, having value 5, one month as the seating day of the following month.
and “dots”, having value 1, to represent the vigesimal Frequently, the Maya would describe a day by giving
digits from 1 to 19. For example, the kneeling scribe in its dates in both the 260 and 365 day calendars. This
Fig. 1 appears on a Classic Maya vase dating from generated a cycle of 18,980 paired dates known as the
around AD 750. From his armpit emanates a vegetative “calendar round”.

A characteristic of Maya writing is that it often uses
many distinct signs to represent the same linguistic
value. This is the case with numerical terms where, in
addition to bar and dot numerals, the Maya represented
numbers by head forms and even full body figures.
Some examples of bar and dot numerals in calendrical
contexts, with alternative representations of the same
dates using head variant numerals, are illustrated in Fig. 2.
All of these examples come from the same ancient Maya
city of Palenque and demonstrate the scribal variation to
be found in Maya writing even at the same location. For a
more extensive description and additional examples of
Maya numeral forms, see Closs (1986).
The Maya frequently recorded the chronological
interval separating two calendar dates. For this purpose
they employed a vigesimal count of tuns (360 day
periods) and separate counts of winals (20 day periods)
and k’ins (days). A given interval would be expressed
as a count of the respective time periods into which it
could be minimally decomposed. Each of the time
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 2 Maya numerals
in a calendrical context. Dates in the 260-day calendar: (a) 5
Lamat, Palenque, Palace Table, R4; (b) 5 Lamat, Palenque,
Tablet of the 96 Glyphs, D4; (c) 9 Manik, Palenque,
Dumbarton Oaks Panel 2, J; (d) 9 Manik, Palenque, Tablet of
the 96 Glyphs, H1. Dates in the 365-day calendar: (e) 6 Xul,
Palenque, Palace Tablet, N15; (f) 6 Xul, Palenque. Tablet of
the 96 Glyphs, C5; (g) 15 Uo, Palenque, Tablet of the Slaves,
H5a; (h) 15 Uo, Palenque, Tablet of the 96 glyphs, G2
(drawing by Closs).
Mathematics: Maya mathematics 1407
periods was represented by a characteristic sign and the
appropriate count was indicated by a numerical prefix.
In recording such chronological counts, it is necessary
to have a symbol for zero so as to indicate an empty
count of a particular period if this occurs. The Maya did
have a zero symbol for that purpose. In fact, as with
other signs employed in Maya writing, there are several
variants of the zero symbol.
In many cases, and typically in the codices, Maya
scribes would represent chronological counts using a
system of positional notation. In this system, counts
were written vertically with the lowest position being
occupied by the count of k’ins, the next higher position
by the count of winals, the next higher position by the
count of tuns, and successively higher positions by the
corresponding count of successively larger vigesimal
multiples of the tun. Any chronological count could be
recorded in this system by using the 19 vigesimal bar
and dot digits and a symbol for zero.
In the monumental inscriptions, it was customary to
indicate the interval between two successive dates of
the text by recording the chronological interval
separating them. Such chronological counts are
referred to as “distance numbers” and might be added
or subtracted to a given date to reach the following
date. The initial date in an inscription is often anchored
in an absolute chronology by recording the chronolog-
ical count separating it from a common base date far in
the past. These chronological records are referred to as
M
Initial Series and have a characteristic format. An
example of an Initial Series on Stela 1 at Pestac,
employing positional notation and incorporating a zero,
is illustrated in Fig. 3. It shows a count of 9 baktuns
(=3,600 tuns), 11 k’atuns (=220 tuns), 12 tuns, 9 winals,
and 0 k’ins (a total of 1,379,700 days or approximately
3,777 years) and leads to a date in AD 665. This is the
oldest securely dated Maya text incorporating the
system of positional notation with a zero sign.
In nonpositional contexts, the zero sign is found
in Initial Series at a much earlier time. For example,
the zero sign occurs on Stela 18 and 19 at Uaxactun,
dating from AD 357. The most ancient nonpositional
chronological count of this type, but without a zero, is
found on Stela 29 at Tikal, dedicated in AD 292. It is
interesting to note that the system of positional notation
is very ancient in Mesoamerica and is found on
monuments that predate those of undisputed Maya
origin. However, none of them exhibit a zero sign. The
oldest of these monuments goes back to 36 BCE.
In several instances, the Maya worked with negative
chronological counts. These are used when counting
backward from the zero point (base date) of the absolute
chronology. They are distinguished from positive
counts by a peculiar notation that has engendered the
term “ring number”. An example of a ring number from
the Dresden Codex, one of the few surviving Maya
1408 Mathematics: Maya mathematics

problems such as determining the station in the 819 day

cycle closest to a given calendar round date. It is clear
from artifactual evidence that the Maya performed their
calculations using residue arithmetic.
The most sophisticated accomplishments in Maya
mathematics are found in their arithmetically based
astronomy. Here I will touch on three areas.
1. From the earliest days, the Maya scribes kept track
of the moon through a lunar calendar. We have a
large number of moon age records giving the current
age of the moon within a cycle of 29 or 30 days. If a
moon age was greater than 19 days, a special
symbol for 20 was employed along with a regular
bar and dot numeral to make up the balance of the
count. Occasionally, a similar notation was used in
the chronological counts discussed above. Since a
lunation is around 29.5 days, the Maya used varying
proportions of 29-day and 30-day months to keep
their moon age records in agreement with astro-
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 3 The front of
nomical reality. This gives an idea as to how the
Pestac, Stela 1, with an Initial Series of 9.11.12.9.0 Maya avoided the necessity of fractions in their
employing positional notation and a zero sign (drawing by integer-based arithmetic. We have a few examples
Closs). of moon age calculations from contemporaneous
dates into mythological time, thousands of years
earlier, from which it has been possible to recover
the moon-age formulas that were used. These are
formulas of the type “x moons = y days” where x and
y are integers. Dividing through by x, one can say
that a particular Maya formula is equivalent to
estimating an average lunation as y/x days. This can
then be compared with modern estimates and the
precision of the Maya results can be recognized.
Nevertheless, it can be misleading because the
Maya did not look at things in this way.
2. The Dresden Codex contains a Venus table that
permits the prediction of first appearance of the
planet as morning star and as evening star over a
period of about 104 years. The introductory page to
the table has several features of mathematical
interest. It has a mythological base date marked by
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 4 A Maya ring a ring number. To this is added a companion number
number of 1.7.11 from the Dresden Codex, p. 58 (drawing by
leading to a canonical base date of the table in the
Closs).
historic era. The companion number spans a period
of 1,366,560 days (more than 3,741 years). It has the
hieroglyphic books, is illustrated in Fig. 4. The ring prime factorization 25  32  5  13  73 and so is
number of 1.7.11 is a negative chronological count with highly divisible into a product of relatively small
reference to the zero point of Maya chronology and prime numbers. This is fairly typical of other
leads to a mythological date. companion numbers associated with ring numbers
Among the mathematical problems faced by the in the Dresden Codex. It is a contrived number
Maya were those of determining the calendar round constructed using a knowledge of residue classes.
date when a chronological interval is added to or The page also includes a table of multiples of 2,920
subtracted from a given date and of determining the days. The importance of this number stems from the
chronological interval between two given calendar formula “5 Venus years of 584 days = 8 solar years
round dates. The Maya also used other calendrical of 365 days” commensurating the Venus and solar
cycles of 4 days, 9 days, and 819 days. This led to other cycles. The existence of tables of multiples is

habitual in the Dresden Codex and indicates that the
Maya worked from such tables rather than depend-
ing on algorithms for multiplication. The table of
multiples and other calculation factors provide a
mechanism for advancing from the canonical base
date of the Venus table into the Venus table proper at
a contemporaneous date. Still other calculating
factors on the same page permit the Venus table to
be recycled over time so that it maintains its
astronomical integrity over several hundreds of
years, much longer than the actual span of the table.
3. The Dresden Codex also contains an eclipse table
that identifies dates of potential solar and lunar
eclipses. It records a commensuration of the eclipse
cycle with the sacred calendar of 260 days. This
table also has mechanisms for recycling so that it
can remain useful over many runs of the table. It is
one of the great mathematical and astronomical
achievements of the ancient Maya.
We also have some indications of geometrical knowledge
among the Maya but nothing derived from written texts.
Information that has been obtained comes from the study
of architecture and site plans. For example, there are
reasons to believe that an arrangement of three major
temples at Tikal – at the vertices of an isosceles right
triangle – is not coincidental. Many other alignments
suggesting intentional geometrical concerns have been
proposed at various Maya sites, but no adequate synthesis
of the geometry involved has yet been achieved.
The idea of mathematics was sufficiently concrete in
Maya thought that it has a presence in Maya art and
iconography. In a number of almanacs in the Madrid
Codex, deities are shown holding a vessel of black
paint in one hand and a brush for painting or writing in
the other. This type of scene is now known to depict the
deity in the act of writing or painting. In at least two
instances, an extra feature has been added to the scene.
This consists of a scroll containing numbers issuing from
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 5 An ancient Maya mathematics lecture (drawing by Closs from Kerr, 1989).
Mathematics: Maya mathematics 1409
the mouth of the deity. The added element indicates that
the writing which is being performed is of a mathematical
nature. By using this device, the Maya artist testifies to the
visibility of mathematics as a discipline in Maya society.
The notion that mathematics was also considered a
distinct discipline within the scribal curriculum is
demonstrated on a Classic Maya vase (ca. AD 750).
The scene on one side of the vase, illustrated in Fig. 5,
shows a classroom scene in which Pauahtun, an aged
god with a characteristic netted headdress, instructs two
disciples in the mathematical art. Pauahtun, who is
known to be a patron of scribes, is seated with a codex
in front of him and a brush pen in his left hand. From
his mouth issues a speech scroll containing the bar and
dot numbers 11, 13, 12, 9, 8, and 7. The hieroglyphic
caption behind the head of the first student is a name
glyph. On the other side of this vase, there is a near
identical classroom scene in which hieroglyphs are
recorded in the speech scroll. In that case, the spoken
text begins with a verb indicating “to teach.”
A pair of deities in a detail from another Classic
Maya vase is shown in Fig. 6. The god on the right has
the facial features of a monkey and carries a codex
in his right hand. An effigy head rests on top of
the opened codex. The god on the left rests one hand on
the back of the previous figure and holds a conch shell
ink-pot in the other. Of special interest is a vegetative
scroll, containing bar and dot numerals, which emanates
from his armpit. There is also a curl, with single digits,
M
running down from his cheek. Coe has suggested that
these deities are patrons of mathematics and writing. The
pairing of the two deities in this manner distinguishes
between mathematics and writing in Maya thought. It
reinforces the idea that mathematics was recognized as a
separate discipline.
It is apparent that a scribe who was a mathematical
specialist must have mastered calendrical and chrono-
logical calculations. The most detailed information on
Maya civilization at the time of the Spanish conquest is
1410 Mathematics in Mesopotamia
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 6 Maya gods of mathematics and writing (drawing by Closs from Coe, 1978).
found in Bishop Landa’s Relacion de las Cosas de
Yucatan. This work was written shortly after the
conquest and draws heavily on data provided by
educated native informants, members of the former
scribal class. Landa refers to the mathematical techni-
ques of the Maya scribes as the computation of the
katuns. He writes that this “was the science to which
they gave the most credit, and that which they valued
most and not all the priests knew how to describe it”
(Tozzer 1941). This informs us that not all scribes were
mathematical specialists and that those who were had
greater prestige. It supports the idea that mathematical
specialists were recognized as a specialized subgroup of
the scribal class. In this regard, the situation at the time of
the conquest seems to have been no different than it was
during the Classic period.
See also: ▶Calendars, ▶Astronomy, ▶Eclipses
References
Clarkson, Persis B. Classic Maya Pictorial Ceramics: A
Survey of Content and Theme. Papers on the Economy
and Architecture of the Ancient Maya. Ed. Raymond
Sidrys. Institute of Archaeology, Monograph 7. Los
Angeles: University of California, 1978. 86–141.
Closs, Michael P. The Mathematical Notation of the Ancient
Maya. Native American Mathematics. Ed. Michael P.
Closs. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1986. 291–369.
Coe, Michael D. Lords of the Underworld: Masterpieces of
Classic Maya Ceramics. Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1978.
Kaplan, Robert. Mayan Mathematics: The Dark Side of Zero.
American Scholar 68.3 (1999): 27–34.
Kerr, Justin. The Maya Vase Book: A Corpus of Rollout
Photographs of Maya Vases. Vol. 1. New York: Kerr
Associates, 1989.
Tozzer, Alfred M. Landa’s Relacion de las Cosas de Yucatan.
A translation, edited with notes. Papers of the Peabody
Museum. Vol. 18. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard
University, 1941.
Mathematics in Mesopotamia
S EMA ’ AN I. S ALEM
“A mind that does not know accounting, is it a mind
that has intelligence?” This ancient Mesopotamian
proverb equates mathematical dexterity, to the exclu-
sion of all other disciplines, with mental capability, and
portrays the reverence the ancient Mesopotamians had
for the field of mathematics. It is certainly true that the
study of mathematics is an intellectual activity that
requires both imagination and intuition.
Mathematics arose from the need to count and to
record numbers. Many ancient societies had methods
for tallying and counting. Thus, they developed a variety
of counting systems used over the millennia around the
world. Our base-10 system, the most common of all
systems because of its association with the number of
fingers on both hands, is but one of many.
A concise and meaningful definition of the field of
mathematics is virtually impossible. The word was
originally used to mean arithmetic. Then simple algebra
was introduced, followed by plane geometry and other
related concepts. At present, the word mathematics is
defined as a language with a particular kind of logic. It
contains a large body of knowledge often beautifully
expressed in terms of equations, numbers, and symbols.

In this article, the word mathematics is used in its most
general meaning.
Mesopotamia is a land that nurtured many civiliza-
tions – Sumerian, Akkadian, Babylonian, Chaldean,
and later on Abbasid. It has a long list of achievements
in astronomy and mathematics as well as other
disciplines. The Mesopotamians’ love for and interest
in the study of astronomy led to their development of
mathematics. The two fields, being interdependent,
grew and prospered side by side.
Originally, mathematical calculations were used to
count herds, livestock, produce, and people; later, they
were used to help understand astronomical observa-
tions. Mesopotamian stargazers had a motto, “When it
is clear, observe, when it is cloudy, compute.” They
observed for long periods of time; the longest
uninterrupted period of astronomical observation, and
this includes modern day observations, was carried out
in Mesopotamia. To understand these observations, they
performed very complex mathematical computations.
In this article we present some of the simple
mathematical operations that were performed by early
Mesopotamians. We will avoid the more complex
calculations more suitable only to the experts.
The ancient Mesopotamians worshipped celestial
objects as gods, and they believed that they were created
for the purpose of serving these gods. To perform this
function properly and to interpret the wishes of these
gods, they studied their every move, chartered their
paths, and calculated their positions as a function of
time, thus creating a strong link between the study of
mathematics and astronomy. This link played an
important role in the development of both fields and
later gave rise to the formulation of the Mesopotamian
early calendars.
For our knowledge of Mesopotamian mathematics
we are indebted primarily to the work of the Otto
Neugebauer, who, between 1935 and 1937, studied all
the known mathematical cuneiform tablets and pub-
lished their contents in three volumes entitled Mathe-
matische Keilschrift-texte. In these, he included
photographs of original texts, transcripts, and transla-
tions into German. He also wrote a comprehensive
commentary. A later publication by F. Thureau Dangin
contains new transcriptions and French translations
of most of the material published by Neugebauer, and
a new and valuable commentary. For an extended
period after 1937, Neugebauer continued his study of
Mesopotamian mathematics; he kept translating and
publishing articles about the subject, indicating what
type of mathematics the Mesopotamians were interested
in and how they solved some of the difficult and involved
problems. And in 1945, he and Sachs published another
collection – a supplement to Neugebauer’s early work.
In 1961, E. M. Bruins and M. Rutten produced a
volume entitled Textes Mathématiques de Susi (Susa).
Mathematics in Mesopotamia 1411
The works of Otto Neugebauer, F. Thureau Dangin,
and E. M. Bruins and M. Rutten are our main sources
and best references to Mesopotamian mathematics.
The oldest mathematical symbols uncovered in
Mesopotamia are Sumerian; they go back to ca. 3000
BCE. They are a short straight line, which stands for
unity; a small circle darkened at the top which corresponds
to 10; and a half-moon which represents 60. To add
numbers, they wrote them next to one another; to multiply
two numbers, they wrote one inside the other. For
subtraction they had symbols that stood for the minus
sign; to write 8, they wrote 10 − 2.
With the advent of cuneiform, wedge-shaped signs
replaced the old Sumerian symbols. A one wedge-sign
by itself stood for unity, and two such signs placed next
to each others meant two, and so on. The symbol for 10
was a small arc inscribed in an angle, and 60 was
represented by a triangle. This retained the decimal/
sexagesimal system.
Numerous clay tablets uncovered in Mesopotamia
reveal that by 2000 BCE the Mesopotamians had a
fully developed number system, which is partly
decimal and partly sexagesimal. It has a symbol for
10, but instead of clumping together six such symbols
to form 60, they had a unique symbol for 60. Although
the ancient Egyptians are usually credited with the
development of the decimal system, the Mesopota-
mians made partial use of such a system. These various
notations were in use until the advent of the elegant,
M
place-value system, a great leap in the advancement of
mathematics. To differentiate between their numerous
gods, the Mesopotamians assigned numerical values to
these gods. Anu, the god of heaven, was allotted the
number 60, and thus in their calculations, they used
the sexagesimal system. That is, they used 60 the same
way we use 10 in our decimal system. The influence
Mesopotamian mathematics had on the Western civili-
zation and mathematics is clear, as remnants of their
sexagesimal system are still apparent in our method of
measuring time (60 min to an hour and 60 s to minute)
and in measuring angles (360°, 6 × 60, in a complete
circle, and there are 60′ to a degree).
True to their sexagesimal system, they wrote all
their fractions out of 60, the way we write our fractions
out of 10. Thus, to write one half, they wrote a symbol
that meant 0.30, the way we write 0.50 to mean a half.
Place-Value Numeration System
In our decimal system, if we desire to write eleven, we
do not need to write 11 straight line scratches next to
one another, we simply write 11 – the one in the first
column to the right stands for unity, and the one in the
second column stands for ten, and when they are placed
together they represent 11. Similarly if we write one
hundred and eleven starting from right to left, we have
1412 Mathematics in Mesopotamia
1, 10, and then 102 giving the desired number of 111.
Every time we move one column to the left we multiply
by 10. In the sexagesimal system, the second column is
60, the third is 602, and every time we move one
column to the left we multiply by 60. With the advent
of cuneiform and the place-value numeration system,
there was no further need for a symbol for 60. It was
dropped, but the symbol for 10 was retained.
This system, which was conceived by the mathema-
ticians and astronomers of Mesopotamia toward the
beginning of the second millennium BCE, was a giant
step in the annals of mathematics. To comprehend the
importance of this giant step and how much simpler it is
to perform mathematical operations using the place-
value system, one ought to try to multiply two numbers
using present-day Roman Numerals. The following
table illustrates the use of place-value in the sexagesi-
mal system (Table 1).
As the Mesopotamians had only two symbols to
work with, the separations between successive sym-
bols indicate different columns and a multiplication
by 60 of the left column, instead of a simple addition
of the two symbols. In solving one problem, another
was created. The scribes had to determine how wide or
how narrow the spaces between the columns ought
to be. According to Mesopotamian understanding,
if the spacing was too narrow, the two numbers must
be added instead of multiplying the one to the left by
60 then adding. Thus making a symbol for zero became
a necessity.
The astronomers and mathematicians of Mesopota-
mia had to contend with this difficulty for some
1,500 years, before they introduced a sign for zero. It
took that long because it is difficult to think of “nothing”
and even more difficult to find a symbol that represents
“nothing.” But in spite of the shortcomings of their
numerical system, they were able to perform sophisti-
cated calculations.
A Symbol for Zero
The history of the development and use of zero played
a crucial role in mathematics and was the subject of
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Table 1 The place-value numeration system
several scientific publications, papers, and books. In a
recently published book, The Nothing That Is: A
Natural History of Zero, Robert Kaplan wrote that the
earliest evidence of the use of zero was found on
Sumerian clay tablets uncovered in southern Mesopo-
tamia. The Sumerians, around 3000 BCE, inserted a
slanted double wedge between numerical symbols
to indicate the absence of a number. This date, if
true, corresponds to the earliest use of mathemati-
cal notations by the Sumerians, and it comes only a
couple of hundred years after the Sumerians invented
writing.
It is possible that a symbol for zero was used by one
civilization, got lost then rediscovered by another. Kaplan
adds that the zero made its way into the Babylonian
Empire and from there to India. In the Greek culture, the
zero appears only occasionally, and there is no trace of
its use during the Roman Empire. Arab scholars and
merchants introduced the zero to the West, providing the
earliest steps in the crucial role the zero plays in the world
of mathematics. Note that the English word “cipher,”
meaning zero, has its origin in the Arabic word sifr,
meaning empty. Finally, at a date not precisely deter-
mined, but either late in the sixth century BCE or early in
the fifth century BCE, the Babylonian mathematicians, to
indicate the absence of a sexagesimal unit, used a true
sign for zero and spread its use over their vast empire and
into the Indian subcontinent.
To avoid the difficulty encountered by leaving spaces
to indicate zero or the absence of a number, they inserted
between the columns one of the following signs:
For example 132 was written in one of the following
ways:
That is 2 × 60 + 12 = 132.

When cuneiform writing became obsolete in the first
half of the first century AD, the Babylonian signs for
zero were lost with it. But the great mathematician,
Muh.ammed ibn Mūsā al-Kwārizmī (ca. 800–847),
working in Baghdad, reestablished a sign for zero and
introduced it into his mathematical computations (Fig. 1).
Recreational Mathematics
Most ancient mathematicians were interested in the
solution of practical problems such as dividing
geometrical figures into two or more equal parts, or
multiplying two numbers to determine the area of a
field. Such knowledge was used to divide properties
among inheritors. For similar practical reasons they
worked out the volumes of various solids to measure
and store grains and other crops.
The Mesopotamians’ interest in mathematics took
them beyond its practical aspect and into its recreation-
al, or what we call today pure mathematics. They
worked out equations with two and three unknowns,
they found solutions for quadratic equations, and they
worked on problems such as, “Given the product of two
numbers and either their sum or their difference,
find the numbers.” For most of their mathematical
operations, the Mesopotamians constructed tables; they
Mathematics: Maya Mathematics. Fig. 1 This mathe-
matical clay tablet was uncovered in Uruk. It dates from
either the late third or early second century BCE. It contains
the earliest known signs of the Babylonian zero (Musée du
Louvre, Paris). Used with the author’s permission, from his
article in Dahesh Voice 8.4 (2003): 14–9.
Mathematics in Mesopotamia 1413
had tables of multiplication, division, squaring, and
extracting square and cube roots. They also had tables of
reciprocals, i.e., sexagesimal fractions. They went
beyond all that and constructed tables for the summation
of geometrical progression, such as
1 þ 2 þ 4 þ    þ 29 ¼ 29 þ ð29
1Þ:
They also calculated the time required for the alignment of
the sun–earth–moon to determine the time of lunar and
solar eclipses. They were able to predict these eclipses
with great precision.
A truly dramatic clay tablet, written in 568 BCE
during the reign of Nebuchadnessar, states that a lunar
eclipse predicted to take place on the 4th July 568 BCE
(the date was recently calculated from an ancient
Babylonian calendar) “failed to occur.” Modern astron-
omers have verified that a lunar eclipse did take place on
that date, but during the day, when the moon was not
visible in Mesopotamia.
Influence on Greek and Western Mathematics
The first known Ionian astronomer, Thales of Miletus
(ca. 625–545 BCE) was a statesman fond of traveling.
While in Babylon, he obtained lists of observations of
the heavenly bodies. From these lists, Babylonian
astronomers had already deduced the periodicity of
eclipses, and had accurately predicted several solar and
many lunar eclipses. With these lists in his possession, M
Thales returned to his hometown of Miletus. It was
reported there that he predicted a solar eclipse that took
place in 585 BCE. But Thomas Martin, in his book
Ancient Greece, from Prehistoric to Hellenistic Times,
writes, “Modern astronomers doubt that Thales could
actually have predicted an eclipse” (Martin 1969: 91).
Greek tradition indicates that it was customary for
young Greek scientists to visit Mesopotamia in search
of knowledge. One of the famous Greek scientists, who
made the journey, probably after being deported from
Egypt, was Pythagoras of Samos (d. ca. 497 BCE). He
may have become acquainted with Mesopotamian
mathematics, and most certainly with the theorem that
bares his name, and which states that in a right triangle,
the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the
squares of the two other sides.
Neugebauer (vol. II, p 53 and vol. III, p 22) states that
a cuneiform tablet, also belonging to the Old Babylonian
period, contains extensive values of the sides of right
triangles that satisfy the above-mentioned theorem. And
Neugebauer and Sachs collection (pp 38–41) contains an
extensive table of “Pythagorean Triplets.” In addition to
the theorem itself, right triangles, which obey the
theorem, are also known as “Pythagorean Triangles”
and the sets of numbers such as 3, 4, 5 and 6, 8, 10 and
12, 16, 20, etc. which satisfy the theorem are known as
“Pythagorean Triplets or Pythagorean Triads.” The
1414 Mathematics in Native North America
theorem, the triangles that obey the theorem, and the sets
of numbers that satisfy the theorem should be named
Babylonian instead of Pythagorean.
This is not an isolated case. Through the work of
Neugebauer, it became clear that the work of the
mathematicians and astronomers of ancient Mesopota-
mia greatly influenced the mathematics of the Greeks,
and through them that of the Western world.
In Babylonian algebra, quadratic equations of the
four standard types occur frequently:
X þ Y ¼ A; XY ¼ B;
X
Y ¼ A; XY ¼ B;
X þ Y ¼ A; X 2 þ Y 2 ¼ B;
X
Y ¼ A; X 2 þ Y 2 ¼ B:
They also appear in Euclid’s Elements: Theorem 5–6
and 9–10 of Book II without reference to their origin,
and Neugebauer pointed out that the Greek geometrical
solutions of these equations were exactly the same as
the Babylonian algebraic solutions; for example,
whenever the Babylonians wrote, “Take the square
root of A.” The Greeks changed it to read, “Take the
side of the square of area equal to A.”
The great interest the Mesopotamians showed in the
solutions of pure mathematical problems – recreational
mathematics, which has no practical applications –
indicates that they viewed this endeavor as a mental
exercise. This kind of mathematical intelligence greatly
benefited both the Mesopotamians and the civilizations
which followed them.
References
Bruins, E. M. and M. Rutten. Textes mathématiques de Suse.
Paris: P. Geuthner, 1961.
Kaplan, Robert. The Nothing That Is: A Natural History of
Zero. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
Martin, Thomas R. Ancient Greece, from Prehistoric to
Hellenistic Times. New Haven, Connecticut: Yale Univer-
sity Press, 1969.
Neugebauer, Otto. Zur Entstehung des Sexagesimal-systems.
Abhandlungen der Akadamie der Wissenshaften zu Gottin-
gen (NS) 13 (1927): 1–55.
---. Mathematische Keilschrift-texte. Berlin: Springer Verlag,
1935–1937.
---. A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy. 3 vols.
New York: Springer Verlag, 1975.
Price, D. The Babylonian ‘Pythagorean Triangle’ Tablet.
Centaurus 10 (1964): 219–31.
Salem, Sema’an I. and Lynda A. Salem. The Near East, The
Cradle of Western Civilization. San Jose, California:
Writers Club Press, 2000.
Swerdlow, N. M. The Babylonian Theory of the Planets.
Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 174.1998.
van der Waerden, B. L. Dictionary of Scientific Biography
(Supplement). New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970–
1980.
Mathematics in Native North America
M ICHAEL P. C LOSS
The mathematical development of the Native American
peoples is highly variable among different cultural
groups. In this article, I will treat two areas of interest:
the wonderful diversity in the formation of number
words and the use of tally systems to record
information. Other articles in this volume give more
explicit details on the mathematics of two particular
indigenous groups, the Aztec and the Maya.
Number Words
Often numbers have a digital origin, indicating that
counting began, or at least was remembered, by
finger counting or by counting on the hands and feet.
Here, I look at only a few examples. For a more
extensive treatment, see Closs (1986a, b).
The relationship between the method of finger
counting used and the creation of number words may
be very explicit. The Bacairi of Mato Grosso in Brazil
have the number sequence shown below:
1 tokale
2 ahage
3 ahage tokale; ahewao 2 + 1; 3
4 ahage ahage 2+2
5 ahage ahage tokale 2+2+1
6 ahage ahage ahage 2+2+2
The second of the number words for 3 is not used more
often than the form made up of 2 and 1, nor is it used in
the formation of any of the higher number words. The
word for 1 comes from the word for bow. It has been
suggested that since each man has only one bow but
many arrows, the bow came to exemplify ‘oneness’.
The word for 2 and the word for ‘many’ derive from the
same source. Thus, the two basic terms in the number
vocabulary have a non-digital origin. The number
sequence is an example of an additive 2-system, i.e. a
system in which the terms are formed by using addition
(implicitly) and groups of twos.
In finger counting, a Bacairi starts with the little
finger of the left hand and says tokale, grasps the
adjacent finger and joins it with the little finger and
says ahage, goes to the middle finger and, holding it
separately beside the little finger and the ring finger,
says ahage tokale, goes to the index finger and joining
it to the middle finger says ahage ahage, grasps the
thumb and says ahage ahage tokale, places the little
finger of the right hand along side it and says ahage
ahage ahage. He then goes to the remaining fingers of
the right hand and touches each finger in turn while
 Mathematics in Native North America 1415

saying mera ‘this one’. He continues by touching the
toes of the left and right foot and each time says mera. If
he is still not finished he grasps his hair and pulls it apart
in all directions. The number 6 marks the end of the use
of 2-groups in finger counting. Nevertheless, the finger
counting still continues on to 20 by a straight one-to-
one correspondence without the use of number words.
Number words are not always derived from words
associated with counting on the fingers. Frequently, the
meaning of even relatively small number words is
transparent. In some languages the word for 1 is related
to the first person pronoun. Often the word for 2 comes
from roots denoting separation or pairs. Moreover, not
only large numbers but also small ones may be formed
by using arithmetical principles. In the simplest case,
this takes the form of doubling but there are instances in
which addition, subtraction, multiplication, and divi-
sion are used. Number words may also be created in
more exotic ways (see Table 1).
Larger number words may be formed by using
superlatives or other expressions which are indefinite
(see Table 2).
There are many number systems developed in the
New World that follow unusual principles of grouping.
The number sequence of the Coahuiltecan of Texas
shown in Table 3 exhibits an extensive use of additive
and multiplicative principles early in its development.
It is also very unusual in the heavy reliance it places on
3-groups.
The word for 3 is an additive composite of the words
for 2 and 1. That pattern, seen in the earlier 2-system,
is not continued and new words are introduced for
4 and 5. The number 6 is expressed in two ways, either
as a composite of 3 and 2 or by a new word. The next
new term introduced is for 20. The number sequence
rises from 6 to 20 by a regular use of 3-groups and the
use of the arithmetic operations of addition and
multiplication. Below 12 the development of the

Mathematics in Native North America. Table 1 Creation of number words

Apache 2 naki from ki-e ‘feet’

Micmac 2 tabu ‘equal’
Omaha 2 nomba ‘hands’
Micmac 3 tchicht cognate with Delaware tchicht ‘still more’
Abipones 4 geyenknute ‘the ostrich’s toes’
Yana 4 daumi from dau ‘to count’
Pawnee 5 sihuks from ishu ‘hand’ and huks ‘half’
M
Kutchin 6 neckh-kiethei from nackhai ‘2’ and kiethei ‘3’
(NW) Maidu 6 sai-tsoko from sapu ‘3’ and tsoko ‘double’
(E) Pomo 7 kula-xotc from kula and xotc ‘2’
(NW) Maidu 7 matsan-pene from ma-tsani ‘5’ and pene ‘2’
Crow 8 nupa-pik from upa ‘2’ and pirake ‘10’
Kansas 8 kiya-tuba from kiya ‘again’ and tuba ‘4’
(NW) Maidu 8 tsoye-tsoko from tsoye ‘4’ and tsoko ‘double’
(E) Pomo 8 koka-dol from ko ‘2’ and dol ‘4’
(NW) Maidu 9 tsoye-ni-masoko ‘4 with 10’ (i.e. 4 towards 10)
(E) Pomo 9 hadagal-com from hadagal ‘10’ and com ‘less’
Gabrieleño 10 wehes-mahar from wehe ‘2’ and mahar ‘5’
(NW) Maidu 10 ma-tsoko from ma ‘hand’ and tsoko ‘double’
(E) Pomo 10 hadagal-com from hadagal ‘10’ and com ‘full’
Unalit 10 kolin ‘upper half of the body’
(E) Pomo 11 hadagal-na-kali from hadagal ‘10’ and kali ‘1’
Cehiga 12 cape-nanba from cape ‘6’ and nanba ‘2’
(E) Pomo 12 hadagal-na-xotc from hadagal ‘10’ and xotc ‘2’
(NW) Maidu 13 sapwi-ni-hiwali ‘3 with 15’

Mathematics in Native North America. Table 2 Larger number words

Biloxi 1,000 tsipitcya ‘old man hundred’

Choctaw 1,000 tahlepa siponki ‘old hundred’
Delaware 1,000 ngutti kittapachki ‘great hundred’
Wiyot 1,000 kucerawagaatoril piswak ‘the counting runs out entirely once’
Kwakiutl 1,000,000 tlinhi ‘number which cannot be counted’
Ojibway 1,000,000 ke-che me-das-wac ‘great thousand’
1416 Mathematics in Native North America

Mathematics in Native North America. Table 3 The Mathematics in Native North America. Table 4 The
number sequence of the Coahuiltecan of Texas number sequence of the Yuki (Round Valley dialect)

1 pil 1 pa-wi
2 ajte 2 op-i
3 ajte c pil 2+1 3 molm-i
4 puguantzan 4 o-mahat, op-mahat ‘two forks’
5 juyopamáuj 5 hui-ko ‘middle-in’
6 ajti c pil ajte; chicuas 3×2 6 mikas-tcil-ki ‘even-tcilki’
7 puguantzan co ajti c pil 4+3 7 mikas-ko ‘even-in’
8 puguantzan ajte 4×2 8 paum-pat ‘one-flat’
9 puguantzan co juyopamauj 4+5 9 hutcam-pawi-pan ‘beyond-one-hang’
10 juyopamauj ajte 5×2 10 hutcam-opi-sul ‘beyond-two-body’
11 juyopamauj ajte co pil (5 × 2) + 1 11 molmi-sul ‘three-body’
12 puguantzan ajti c pil 4×3 12 omahat-sul ‘four-body’
13 puguantzan ajti c pil co pil 4×3+1 13 huiko-sul ‘five-body’
14 puguantzan ajti c pil co ajte 4×3+2 14 mikastcilki-sul ‘six-body’
15 juyopamauj ajti c pil 5×3 15 mikasko-sul ‘seven-body’
16 juyopamauj ajti c pil co pil 5×3+1 16 hui-co(t), ‘8’ ‘middle-none’, ‘8’
17 juyopamauj ajti c pil co ajte 5×3+2 17 pawi-hui-luk, ‘9’ ‘one-middle-project’, ‘9’
18 chicuas ajti c pil 6×3 18 opi-hui-luk, ‘10’ ‘two-middle-project’, ‘10’
19 chicuas ajti c pil co pil 6×3+1 19 molmi-hui-poi, ‘11’ ‘three-middle-project’, ‘11’
20 taiguaco 20 omahat-hui-poi, ‘12’ ‘four-middle-project’, ‘12’
30 taiguaco co juyopamauj ajte 20 + 10 24 ‘8’ ‘8’
40 taiguaco ajte 20 × 2 26 ‘10’ ‘10’
50 taiguaco ajte co juyopamauj ajte 20 × 2 + 10 35 ‘19’ ‘19’
51 ‘19’ ‘19’
64 omahat-tc-am-op ‘four-pile-at’

number system is not consistent. The Coahuiltecan

sequence might be classified as a 2–3–20-system.
The number systems employed within closely related
linguistic groups may also exhibit considerable variation.
For example, the four Yukian languages of California
belong to the same family but have very different
number systems. In three of the four, the numbers up to 3
are related. However, from 4 on all the languages
employ composite number terms whose meanings are
completely different. Moreover, the methods of forming
the numerals also differ since one of the four is an
8-system, two others are 5–10-systems, and the fourth
is a 5–20-system.
The number sequence of the Round Valley, or Yuki
proper, dialect is shown in Table 4, together with an
analysis of the numerals.
The Yuki number sequence is inextricably linked to
their method of finger counting. Rather than counting
the fingers themselves, the Yuki count the spaces
between the fingers, in each of which, when the
manipulation is possible, two twigs are laid. Except for
the words for 1 and 2, common to all the Yukian
languages, and the word for 3, common to all but one of
the Yukian languages, the number words are descrip-
tive of this method of counting. The number words
have no relation to those used in the other related
languages. From 9 to 15 the number words are formed
by addition to a base of 8. Those from 10 to 15 include
the term sul ‘body’, suggesting that ‘body’ represents
the full count of 8 spaces between the fingers.
Many of the terms given for the larger numbers are
residue representations as can be seen below:
16 ¼ ð8Þ þ 8; 24 ¼ ð16Þ þ 8;
17 ¼ ð8Þ þ 9; 26 ¼ ð16Þ þ 10;
18 ¼ ð8Þ þ 10; 35 ¼ ð16Þ þ 19;
19 ¼ ð8Þ þ 11; 51 ¼ ð2  16Þ þ 19;
20 ¼ ð8Þ þ 12:
The above terms suggest that 16, as well as 8, may be
used as a base for constructing the higher numbers.
Indeed, the term for 64 is literally ‘4-pile-at’ and 64
would be 4 piles of 16. It has been reported that 64 is
also used as a higher unit in the Yuki count. This has
been taken as evidence that the Yuki had evolved a pure
8-system. Nevertheless, because of the term for 64, it
seems better to classify it as an 8–16-system.
The Yuki number sequence illustrates that one may
employ the fingers and hands in counting and not end
up with a decimal or vigesimal system. This lesson
could also have been drawn from the finger counting
of the Bacairi who evolved a 2-system. It can also be
seen that the Yuki had precise concepts of number
and counting which went far beyond their formal
 Mathematics in Native North America 1417

number sequence. The existence of variant terms for
the same number and the use of residue expressions for
larger numbers attest to this.
The facility with which different indigenous peoples
dealt with large numbers also shows considerable
variability across the Americas. The Pomo of California
have a deserved reputation as great counters. Large
counts were commonly performed by them at the times
of deaths and peace treaties. An example of such a
count is related in a Pomo tale about the first bear
shaman who gave 40,000 beads in pretended sympathy
for the victim whose death he had caused. One
investigator reports that his informant has observed
counting in excess of 20,000.
Although the Pomo were able to express numbers
reaching into the tens of thousands, the published lists
of Dixon and Kroeber contain numbers which do not
exceed 200. From these lists, I present the number
sequence of the Eastern Pomo which is shown in
Table 5. The second last column gives a simple analysis
of the number words while the last column gives a
second-order arithmetical analysis so as to exhibit the
structure of the numerals more simply.
It can be seen from the above number list that the
Eastern Pomo employed a 5–(10)–20-system. The
term ‘1-stick’ is used to represent 20. The phenomenon
of overcounting (i.e. referring a count upwards to the
next higher level) is also employed. For example, 50 is
expressed as 10 towards 60, and 70 is expressed as 10
towards 80. Fortunately, the absence of higher numbers
in the list has been remedied by Edwin Loeb. He
provides the sequence for large counts among the
Eastern Pomo in Table 6.
The Pomo number words are closely connected with
the method of counting. For example, in counting small
amounts, the word for 20 is xai-di-lema-tek, ‘full stick’,
and when that number is reached a stick is laid out
for this primary unit. When 20 such sticks were
accumulated they formed a larger unit of 400 that also
was represented by a stick.
There is evidence that 1-stick represents counts of
20, 40, 80, or 100 in different Pomo number sequences.
This simply indicates that variant grouping practices
prevailed in different Pomo areas at different times.
Using different sizes of groups to represent 1-stick
would yield different number sequences even though

Mathematics in Native North America. Table 5 The number sequence of the Eastern Pomo

1 kali
2 xotc M
3 xomka
4 dol
5 lema
6 tsadi 1-di (5) + 1
7 kula-xotc kula-2 (5) + 2
8 koka-dol 2-ka-4 2×4
9 hadagal-com 10-less 10 − (1)
10 hadagal-tek 10-full 10
11 hadagal-na-kali 10 + 1 10 + 1
12 hadagal-na-xotc 10 + 2 10 + 2
13 hadagal-na-xomka 10 + 3 10 + 3
14 xomka-mar-com 3-mar-less (3 × 5) − (1)
15 xomka-mar-tek 3-mar-full (3 × 5)
16 xomka-mar-na-kali 3-mar + 1 (3 × 5) + 1
17 xomka-mar-na-xotc 3-mar + 2 (3 × 5) + 2
18 xomka-mar-na-xomka 3-mar + 3 (3 × 5) +3
19 xai-di-lema-com stick-di-5-less 20 − (1)
20 xai-di-lema-tek stick-di-5-full 20
21 xai-di-lema-na-kali stick-di-5 + 1 20 + 1
30 na-hadagal na-10 (20) + 10
40 xotsa-xai 2 sticks 2 × 20
50 hadagal-e-xomka-xai 10-e-3-sticks 10 towards (3 × 20)
60 xomka-xai 3 sticks 3 × 20
70 hadagal-ai-dola-xai 10-ai-4-sticks 10 towards (4 × 20)
80 dol-a-xai 4 sticks 4 × 20
90 hadagal-ai-lema-xai 10-ai-5-sticks 10 towards (5 × 20)
100 lema-xai 5 sticks 5 × 20
200 hadagal-a-xai 10 sticks 10 × 20
1418 Mathematics in Native North America
Mathematics in Native North America. Table 6 The number sequence of the Eastern Pomo for large counts
80 dol-a-xai
100 lema-xai
200 hadagal-a-xai
300 xomka-mar-a-xai
400 kali-xai
500 kali-xai-wina-lema-xai
800 xote-guma-wal
2,400 tsadi
3,600 hadagal-com
4,000 hadagal
the same techniques of stick counting were applied.
There is evidence for distinct Pomo systems which may
be classified as 5–20–400, 5–40–400, (5)–80–400,
and (10)–100–400.
Tally Records
A tally is a simple method of representing the cardinal
number of a group of objects by making a one-to-one
correspondence between the objects being counted and
special marks made by a counter. Today, many tallies
are made by using automated counted devices.
However, throughout history, tallies were made by
more personalized methods such as marking vertical
strokes on a flat surface, cutting notches on a stick,
tying knots on a string, or placing pebbles in a bowl. It
is the most ancient form of record keeping used by
humans.
Biographical and chronological records formed of
strings with simple knots tied in them existed among
the interior Salish and neighbouring tribes of southern
British Columbia and the region about Yakima,
Washington. More sophisticated knotted string records,
quipus, were used by the Inca.
For this discussion, I consider three types of tally
records employed by the Ojibway:
1. The pictograph in Fig. 1 was transcribed from the
sides of a blazed pine tree found on the banks of a
tributary of the Upper Mississippi in 1831. On the
upper right is the totem of an Ojibway hunter who
had encamped at that spot. It represents a fabulous
animal called the copper-tailed bear. The two
parallel lines beneath it, curved at each end,
represent the hunter’s canoe. The next sign, on the
same side, below, is the totem of his companion, the
cat-fish, and below that a representation of his
canoe. The upper figure on the left represents the
common black bear, the six figures below it denote
six fish of the cat-fish species. The interpretation is
this: the two hunters, whose totems were cat-fish
and copper-tailed bear, while encamped at the spot,
killed a bear, and captured six cat-fish in the river.
4 sticks 4 × 20
5 sticks 5 × 20
10 sticks 10 × 20
15 sticks 15 × 20
1 (big) stick 400
1 (big) stick + 5 sticks 400 + (5 × 20)
2 (big sticks) 2 × 400
6 (big sticks) 6 × 400
9 (big sticks) 9 × 400
10 (big sticks) 10 × 400
Mathematics in Native North America. Fig. 1 An
Ojibway pictographic record (drawing by M. P. Closs from
Schoolcraft 1851).
The record was designed to convey this piece of
information to any of their people who should pass
the locality.
2. Tally records were also carved on Ojibway grave
posts. Babesakundiba, or Man with Curled Hair,
was the ruling chief of the Sandy Lake band of the
Ojibway on the Upper Mississippi. He died in the
late 1840s, after a long life of usefulness and
honour, and was buried on a prominent elevation, on
the east bank of the river, where his grave and an
ensign which waved over it were visible to all who
navigated the stream. A drawing of his inscribed
grave post is shown in Fig. 2.
The upside down bird denotes his family name, or
clan, the crane. Four transverse lines above it signify
that he had killed four of his enemies in battle. This
fact was declared by the funeral orator at the time of
the deceased’s interment. At the same time, the orator
dedicated the ghosts of the four men, whom the
departed had killed in battle, and presented them to
the dead chief, to accompany him to the land of the
spirits. The four lines to the right and also the four
corresponding lines to the left of the central marks
denote eight eagle feathers and are commemorative
of his bravery. Eight marks made across the edge of
the inscription board signify that he had been a member
of eight war parties. The nine other transverse marks
 Mathematics in Native North America 1419

Mathematics in Native North America. Fig. 2 The grave post of Babesakundiba (drawing by M. P. Closs from Schoolcraft
1851).

below the sign of the crane signify that the orator who
officiated at the funeral and drew the inscription had
himself participated in nine war parties.
3. The Midéwewin was a set of ceremonials conducted
by an organized group of men and women among
the Ojibway people who had occult knowledge of
‘killing’ and ‘curing’ by the use of herbs, missiles,
medicine bundles, and other objects which pos-
sessed medicinal properties. The records and
teaching of the Midéwewin were inscribed on
birchbark scrolls. These form a body of pictographic
material in which one can find various tallies and
graphic notations exhibiting a ritual use of number
among the Ojibway. M
The scroll depicted in Fig. 3 was used for instruction in
the lore and rites of the Midéwewin. It is characterized
by four rectangular floor plans corresponding to four
lodges (and degrees of initiation) which a candidate had
to pass through before achieving the status of a Midé
master.
The inner rectangle in each lodge represents the path Mathematics in Native North America. Fig. 3 The Midé
master scroll kp-1 (drawing by M. P. Closs from Dewdney
that is followed when processions are made around the
1975).
interior of the lodge. There are four bear manitos (arche-
typal spirits) in each lodge, two guarding each entrance. In
addition, there are 4 officials shown in the first lodge, 8 in
the second, 16 in the third, and 36 in the fourth. The scroll emphasizes the number 4, sacred to the
Lurking between the lodges are evil manitos that Ojibway, in many ways. It is the number of lodges, the
block the entrances. The first three lodges are each number of bears in each lodge, the number of evil
blocked by four manitos, two near each entrance. The manitos adjacent to the entrance of the first three
fourth lodge is uniquely surrounded by 12 bird-like lodges, the number of bear and drum figures on
figures, possibly sky manitos, with an additional the boundary, and the number of lunar signs. Also, the
horned figure and two bear figures. These seem to be 12 bird manitos about the fourth lodge and the series
beneficent entities. of officials in the sequence 4, 8, 16, and 36 are based
The network of lodges is bordered by the Ojibway on multiples of 4.
universe. It begins with a small circle containing Bear
and terminates with the horned symbol of Everlasting See also: ▶Quipu
Life. Along the upper border, close to the upper left-
hand corner of each lodge, is a figure of Bear seated
before his sacred drum. Outside of this border are lunar References
and solar symbols. Along the lower border is a Ascher, Marcia and Robert Ascher. Code of the Quipu. Ann
sequence of trees which represents a forest. Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1981.
1420 Mathematics in Oceania
Closs, Michael P. Native American Number Systems. Native
American Mathematics. Ed. Michael P. Closs. Austin:
University of Texas Press, 1986a. 3–43.
---. Tallies and the Ritual Use of Number in Ojibway
Pictography. Native American Mathematics. Ed. Michael P.
Closs. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1986b. 181–211.
Dewdney, Selwyn. The Sacred Scrolls of the Southern
Ojibway. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1975.
Dixon, Roland B. and A. L. Kroeber. Numeral Systems of the
Languages of California. American Anthropologist 9
(1907): 663–90.
Harrington, M. R. Some String Records of the Yakima.
(Supplement to Leechman 1921; see below.) Indian Notes
and Monographs. New York: Museum of the American
Indian, Heye Foundation, 1921.
Leechman, J. D. String-Records of the Northwest. Indian
Notes and Monographs. New York: Museum of the
American Indian, Heye Foundation, 1921.
Loeb, Edwin M. Pomo Folkways. Berkeley: University of
California Publications in American Archaeology and
Ethnology No. 19, 1926.
Schoolcraft, Henry R. Historical and Statistical Information
Respecting the History, Condition and Prospects of the
Indian Tribes of the United States. 6 vols. Philadelphia:
Lippincott, Grambo, 1851–1857.
Mathematics in Oceania
N ICHOLAS J. G OETZFRIDT
The historical and contemporary practice of mathemat-
ical concepts in Oceania and their intentional and
unintentional expression in various fields of written
literatures negates, from the start, the possibility of
pinning down their elements entirely. This is to be
expected since a bibliographic tour is not only limited
to what writers have thought relevant or important
enough to mention since the start of anthropological
inquiries into Pacific societies. It is also limited to
depictions of real life, culture, and society in written
words. But the available representation of these
concepts throughout the past several decades neverthe-
less allows one to grasp ethnomathematical essences in
their indigenous contexts – such as the application of
knotted plants or leaves for mnemonic purposes or for
the determination of one’s fate using a system of
256 possible results originating from the sky god
Supwunumen who bore the destiny faces of pwee
before allowing them to emerge into 16 human forms.
They then descended in a heavenly constructed canoe
to teach the art of knot divination to a few select men
in the Caroline Islands. The two major schools of the
art of the pweewunus were distinguished by whether one
conceived of the celestial canoe as having been a sailing
canoe or a paddling canoe (Goodenough 2002).
Knots for memorization or recall take several forms
throughout the Pacific, although none of the forms
serves as a society’s definitive method of memoriza-
tion. They instead reflect environmental needs and
practices, such as the tying and untying of knots to mark
the passage of days before a particular event in Papua
New Guinea (Blackwood 1935) or, in “former times,”
the tying and untying of knots on various types of leaves
and strands for deaths and the successful revenge for
each death among the Parevavo people of Papua New
Guinea (Hallpike 1979 and Wolfers 1971). In 1832,
Typerman and Bennett described the practice of a
Hawaiian “tax-gatherer” in the district of Waerua who
kept “very exact accounts” of each inhabitant’s tax debt
on a line of cordage of four to five hundred fathoms in
length and which were individually distinguished with
“knots, loops, tufts, of different shapes, sizes, and
colors” (p.71). While knotted cords were used in the
Marquesas Islands to measure time, record genealogies,
and as mnemonics for the singing of religious songs
(Barthel 1971), one women in Papua New Guinea kept
track of the number of times her husband beat her by
tying knots in a leaf cord and eventually presented it to
authorities as concrete proof of his treatment of her
(Hallpike 1979).
Of course people count objects using base systems,
terms, objects, and even themselves (most extensively
practiced in Papua New Guinea) for transaction and
gifting practices (each society having particularly
prominent objects to enumerate – pigs and yams, for
example, in Papua New Guinea), for the distribution of
food and objects in accordance with statuses or roles,
and for the counting of material objects and people for
other reasons. Objects themselves can take on quanti-
fying terminology separate or derived from words that
form base systems unique to societies as well as those
acculturated through time from neighboring villages
and islands. Among Elsdon Best’s condescending
though detailed work on Maori society in the 1920s
is a reference to a system used by the Maori people in
the Waikato district for counting eels (Best 1921)
(44 eels forming the smallest unit for tallying large
numbers of eels (Best 1929)), and the encapsulating of
four birds in a single brace or pu (Best 1924). Koch
(1983) notes terms used in Tuvalu for bundles of
10 coconuts (fui) and a larger bundle ranging from
10 to 70 coconuts (fikau) while MacGregor (1937) cites
use of terms for units of ten recently harvested coconuts
in counting coconuts to 1000. Fox (1931) observed that
among the Arosi people, Solomon Islands, counting
was sometimes done “by ones, sometimes by pairs,
sometimes by fours, sometimes by fives; the pair, or four
or five being reckoned as a unit and given a distinct
name” with numerous object centered variations and
terms existent for yams, coconuts, banana-shoots for

planting, pigs, dogs, fish, breadfruit, dogs’ teeth, and
shell currency.
These distinctions evolved in the context of counting
systems and their bases that, as Lean (1991) demon-
strated primarily in Papua New Guinea, extend from a
vast array of counting systems in numerous languages.
Lean classified these systems into several distinct types
with a particular emphasis on a number system’s
expression of its “frame pattern” and “cyclic pattern”
although others before and after Lean used other
organizational standards. (See for example Berndt
1954, Joseph 2000, Philip and Kelly 1977, and
Laycock 1975.) Descriptions (sometimes with illustra-
tions) of body-part counting systems of indigenous
peoples of Papua New Guinea, based on the extent of
numbers before an extension beyond that number is
employed, sometimes note a reversal in counting
direction (characterized further by descending or
ascending directions) or the use of another body in
this relatively unorganized literature.
These descriptions appear to be characterizing these
societies in an ethnomathematical context, as does a
perhaps peculiar concern with indigenous Pacific
peoples’ abilities to count to large quantities and with
their concepts of infinity. Although Clark maintained in
1839 that Hawaiians “seldom had occasion for any
complex combination of numbers” (a perception
usually tossed at atoll inhabitants in Micronesia as
well), he still intermittently listed Hawaiian words for 4
(considered to be “the lowest class or collection of
numbers”) to 400,000 as well as a word for four
million. He maintains however that this number “is not
often brought into practice as their minds become
confused with so great a number as is implied by
the meaning of the word [nalowale]. A great but
indefinite number is expressed by the repetition of the
word kini, or lehu, as kinikini, lehulehu.” Other, at least
partial, depictions of the numerical extent of counting
systems usually have indigenous counters falling off at
a certain numbers (the highest numbers usually thought
to be employed infrequently) and into a shout of the
greatness of quantities that are like sands of the beach,
stars in the sky, etc. (See for example Beaglehole and
Beaglehole 1938, Elbert and Pukui 1979, Taylor 1957,
Kaleva 1995, Seidenberg 1962). The Beagleholes
(1938: 354) maintained in their study of the ethnology
of Pukapuka that it was “a little hard to see the function
of high numerical concepts in an atoll culture” although
such large numbers “indicate not so much a definite
number as a progression of increased greatness that
is more sensed or felt than definitely apprehended.”
Drawing from his own experiences in learning
mathematics in Papua New Guinea schools and his
knowledge of the Wisai language from the Buin district
of Bougainville, Kaleva (1995) also notes that while
Mathematics in Oceania 1421
the word for a chicken represents 1000, and for
2 chickens 2000, and so on, there comes a point at
which this numerical progression ceases and people say
that “the chicken went into the bush and never came
back” (Beaglehole 1938: 144) – a phrase Kaleva also
identifies as an expression of infinity.
Numerical, spatial, and linear elements common to
the western assigned cultural boundaries of Melanesia,
Polynesia, and Micronesia vary in accordance with both
the demands and the nurturing characteristics of the
distinctive environments and social and cultural his-
tories embodied in these boundaries. Arguing that the
counting systems and their bases have developed and
changed from indigenous environments and not from
some Babylonian or other Western source (as Pospisil
and Price (1966) suggested but which Bowers (1977)
strongly rejected), Lean’s extensive study of these
systems throughout Papua New Guinea and into the
Pacific islands demonstrates the depth to which
functionality in an environment characterizes the
individual elements of ethnomathematical concepts
and practices in these three vast regions of the Pacific.
While the existent literature (scattered with unintended
and sometimes unindexed mathematical references)
might enable one to identify Melanesia with the
presence of counting systems, linguistic structures and
principles of terminology, measurement, agricultural
and lunar based calendars, and methods of conveying
currency values for exchange (buoyed in particular by
M
studies done in Papua New Guinea), ethnomathe-
matical practices in the far flung atolls of Micronesia
are much more distant and spatial in nature. Most
aspects of counting, measuring, astronomical methods
of determining time and creating the calendar, the
intentional expression of geometric forms, determina-
tion of distance and numerous other elements of
ethnomathematical practices span across Oceania. But
each of these three Pacific regions originally created by
European cartographers has its own physical circum-
stances and historical connectedness to make, for
example, Papua New Guinea the central area for
expanded enumeration concepts but Polynesia (and
particularly Hawai’i and Easter Island) for past prac-
tices of aligning stone structures with stars to mark
the occurrence of the equinox and solstice. Mean-
while in Micronesia, linear concepts in voyage dead
reckoning, using what is often considered to be a
dividing of a voyage into segments via linear associa-
tions of stars with an out-of-sight reference island
en route through the etak concept, are generally
lacking in Polynesia. While this etak concept is absent
in Papua New Guinea (where some interesting topo-
graphical associations with ancestors and directions
are reminiscent of Australian Aboriginal practices), it
is also absent in island Melanesia.
1422 Mathematics in Oceania
Here we are again dealing also with the limitations
not only of what has been of interest to writers –
and particularly the earliest writers in the case of
Polynesia – but what was accessible to them. Perhaps
Captain Winker’s tenacious but sidetracked attempts
(1901) to comprehend the then secret essences of
Marshallese stick charts and their use for interpreting
swells refracted by atolls is somewhat demonstrative of
this now incurable problem. Centuries of interaction
between Papua New Guinea tribal peoples and the
centrality of exchanges and gift protocols, the impacts
of indigenous diffusion where it occurred, as well as the
contemporary acculturation of contact with Europeans
has its passages and forms in the many enumeration
systems Lean examined. Enumeration descriptions
occur elsewhere in this literature but not anywhere to
the degree that it has in regards to Papua New Guinea.
There are nevertheless a few examples available for
Micronesia. Alkire (1970), for example, describes how
Woleai’s enumeration bases of four and eight not only
reflect dualism in Woleai (central Caroline Islands)
concepts of enumeration but also emphasizes their
importance in the knot diviner’s interpretation of 256
knot combinations (ultimate destinies) formed by knots
representing those 16 traditional divination spirits
whose two pairs of leaflet knot quantities do not each
exceed four. In a somewhat sensationalized note,
Ballinger (1978) discusses the recording by the 1908
Thilenius South Seas Expedition of a “mysterious”
counting system on the atoll of Faraulep in the central
Caroline Islands with its “regular, stepped, series of
‘characters’” representing numbers from 100,000 to
60,000,000 (again noted as being unpractical for an
atoll environment) and symbols being used with no
apparent derivations from other Pacific islands. And
while noting that the “ethnonavigators” of the Caroline
Islands, in contrast to Western navigational practices,
employ rigid spatial concepts that close off the potential
for new information to be introduced into this
nongeometrical or nonalgebraic system, Freedman
(1980) still pointed out the Pukapuka system of
numerals running from 1 to 12 and extending by
100s to 2,000 along with its quantitative class names
for the counting of specific objects.
The presence of Polynesian enumeration in the
literature (comparably marginal when referenced
against the literature on enumeration in Papua New
Guinea) in Polynesia either reflects a lack of attention by
European writers, the long and early impact of European
acculturation on enumeration systems, or both. We have
Conant’s 1893 survey of “primitive number systems”
(including Polynesia) whose origins of numbers among
“the savage languages of the human race” are unknow-
able as well as Thomas’ attempt to link the Marquesas
Islands to India via Malaysia through the presence of
vigesimal systems of enumeration.
Even so, mathematical characteristics in each of
these three giant regions of Oceania were and are
expressible on the basis of the environments that have
prompted and sustained them. It is clear, for example,
that the large ocean areas separating small atolls and
higher level islands, the relatively recent scholarly
interest paid to the prehistoric exploration and settle-
ment of the Pacific, and the remaining availability of
indigenous, noninstrumental navigational techniques on
the Caroline atolls of Polowat and Satawal in a larger
context of the importance of such exploration and
techniques to contemporary Pacific cultures, all make
distance and linear associations prominent in Micro-
nesian ethnomathematics. These distances are inher-
ently linear in a forward moving fashion. A universal
kind of fascination with the capacity of indigenous
navigators to maintain and essentially harness distance
in movements from one point to another is energized by
both scholarship and cultural pride. The concept of etak
as a technique for segmenting these voyages into
manageable parts (as well as at least one alternative
explanation that dismisses this segmentation (Hutchins
1983) and the expression and explanation of wave
refraction and interpretation in the linear expressions
of the Marshallese stick charts remain prominent parts
to this literature on Micronesian mathematical ideas
and practices.
On the other hand, spiritual, material, and societal
needs have also encouraged recognition and study of
land-based uses of mathematical concepts. The knot
divination practices passed on by the sky-god Supwu-
numen to determine the outcomes of certain events and
the 256 possible fates of people for days and years to
come probably registers as the most unique mathemat-
ical element in Micronesia. However, measurement
concepts that may employ a small variation of lengths
by the use of the same body part but from different
bodies for canoe and house construction, axis concepts,
calendar development (primarily lunar and somewhat
stellar referenced in Polynesia and Micronesia but more
agriculturally based in Melanesia), circular displays
and conceptualizations, cosmology, and geometric
concepts and applications are generally found in the
written literature on all of Oceania although each
region has its distinctive marks. Late nineteenth and
early to lower-mid twentieth century literature on
Hawaiian cosmology and lunar calculations of the
days and thus the months are, for example, coated
with Hawaiian genesis traditions of the cosmos and
the role of the Pleiades and the moon. Chauvin (2000:
116) notes that, “the Hawaiian names for the thirty
nights of the moon indicate an ancient ability to make
accurate naked-eye observations of lunar phases and
then to record those observations in descriptive
appellations. Thus the first appearance of the waxing
crescent moon in the west marking the first night of

the month was called Hilo – meaning ‘twisted’ or
‘threadlike,’ as a braid.”
There is very little mention of base properties in
Micronesia (as compared to their propensity in writings
on Papua New Guinea enumeration systems), little or
no recognition of any body part counting practices, no
references to archaeoastronomy research (in compari-
son to those available for Easter Island, Hawai’i, and, to
a lesser extent, Tonga), very little concern with any
mathematical elements of debt calculation and payment
or base properties (again, in comparison to a much
stronger presence in the literature on Papua New
Guinea), and no mathematical elements of birth order
names. However, the presence of horizontal concepts
and their role in dealing with ocean distances are far
more present in the literatures on Polynesia and
Micronesia than for Melanesia and specifically Papua
New Guinea. Horizontal lines on the tattoos of an elder
Marshallese man in Barclay’s novel (2002) on the
Marshall Islands have numerous horizontal elements
which themselves are intended to reflect their concep-
tual presence at sea. The earth’s horizon itself often
figures prominently not only in relation to stellar
references to cardinal points (see Brower (1983),
Finney (1998), and Babayan (1987) for examples) but
it also has a crucial role in traditional Hawaiian and
Chuukese conceptualizations of a series of domed
heavens. (See Chauvin 2000 also for their Hawaiian
expression in a gourd.) Chuukese conceptualizations of
these layered heavens involved paths for the dead
where the “Singing Place” (Neechiichi) level or path
tended to turn these voyaging souls toward irresponsi-
ble dance and song, thus distracting them from their
final abode. Riesenberg (1972) focuses on the centrali-
ty of metaphor in several categories of mnemonic
navigational knowledge on Polowat and the expression
of relationships between real and mythical geographic
elements and star courses. Riesenberg also examines
the importance of the horizon in stellar courses that
are thought of in terms of navigators pursuing a reef
fish from one island to another with their associated
stellar alignments. The Breadfruit Picker ( fééyah)
category of courses, Riesenberg notes, “are not
necessarily on a straight line under the star named in
the directions but include one star to each side of it, thus
covering a sector of the horizon three stars wide”
(Riesenberg 1972: 24).
The ethnographic and anthropological literatures
of Melanesia, Polynesia, and Micronesia all have
seemingly inevitable references to the triangular or
rectangular or square joining of cross beams, weaving
threads, planks, and canoe pieces that emerge from
practical applications but which would not only be
difficult to isolate entirely (and what would be the
point?) but would probably also be difficult to align
with conscious ethnomathematical concepts. The
Mathematics in Oceania 1423
appearance of squares, circles, and triangles in the
numerous available descriptions of string figure prac-
tices in the Pacific are likewise natural consequences of
string designs with a few exceptions of figures named
after geometric shapes and the direct intent to convey
these figures in the end result of the dexterity of string
and fingers. One might point to these natural conse-
quences of material needs as being indicative of the
ultimate weakness with which bibliographic overviews
of subjects are not only guided by the literature that is
actually available but more importantly, by the human
dynamics of history that will always defy anything
resembling a complete inventory.
Thus environmental factors and geographic realities
(linear spaces associated with stellar concepts in
Micronesia, enumeration systems for social traditions
of exchange and possession in Papua New Guinea)
serve to define and stress the kinds of mathematical
concepts employed in different Pacific societies. The
piecemeal fashion with which these concepts have been
identified and extended in both scholarly and contex-
tual terms actually underlines the intricate place of
ethnomathematical practices in individual cultures.
Their emergence comes and came over the past several
decades through their sometimes chance recognition in
other ethnographical terms, the scholarly concerns that
happen to be prevalent for given societies, and of
course the extent to which access was allowed to
outside observers. At times it was the particular
M
practice wrapped up in ethnomathematical principles
that was the primary reason for an ethnographic focus –
such as Bernard A. Deacon’s detailed descriptions
(1934) of the geometrical sand drawings from
Malekula (Vanuatu) and most notably that which the
Temes Savsap ghost half erased and expected the dead
souls traveling to the afterlife to reconstruct before
passing on or face being devoured – for a particular
society. The same was true for selected other works on
mathematical principles. Price and Pospisil’s theory
(1966) of a Babylonian influence on enumeration
structures among the Kapauku people in Papua New
Guinea was strongly rejected by Bowers (1977) while
conjectures by Ross (1936) and Heyerdahl (1961) that
an apparent presence of two distinct counting systems
on Easter Island at the time of early European contact
was indicative of outside, non-Polynesian influences
were challenged by Métraux (1936). Works on Papua
New Guinea enumeration systems sometimes draw
from previous works while scholarship on the challenges
Papua New Guinea students face in successfully com-
prehending and using Western enumeration and mathe-
matical principles – particularly in the acknowledged
context of their social and environmental origins –
represent the pocket of literature on the presence of
Pacific ethnomathematical principles that is most respon-
sive to the works of others.
1424 Mathematics in Oceania
While arguing that a predominant belief in Western
worlds of the universality of mathematical principles
underlines the ongoing use of these principles “as one
of the most powerful weapons in the imposition of
western culture,” Bishop (1990: 60) also recognizes the
nebulousness of the term “ethnomathematics” itself.
Perhaps, he suggests, “it would be better not to use that
term but rather to be more precise about which, and
whose, mathematics one is referring to in any context.”
This issue of the foremost inclusion of contextual
realities stresses the “humanly constructed” nature of
mathematics – a nature that Bishop maintained can be
imperialistically manipulated as reflected for example
in the fact that the 180° sum of the angles of a “perfect
triangle” was predetermined by a dominant western
epistemology. In extending linear and horizontal
concepts to a Micronesian concept such as etak, to
the practice of backsighting against prominent points of
an island as it sinks below the horizon, and even to the
“linear series” of ancestral and contemporary move-
ments that embody a “lineal segmentation” from a point
of unity (Rumsey 2001), one speaks directly to the
representation of cultural ideas and realities subverted
by the idea of there being a universal and culturally free
field of mathematics to which all can refer. The
interpretations of mathematically related ideas through-
out the Pacific and the anthropological and other
literatures that have attempted by happenstance or
intent to express them have always prompted the
possibilities and appropriateness of this extension. The
legitimacy that they are afforded speak not only to
Bishop’s concerns but to the relevancy of practices that
in many cases have become more “past” through
colonial hegemony as well as an acculturation that was
once more indigenous in nature but of course finds its
niche in the far reaching influences of western society.
This is where, however, the depiction of “real life” in
specific societal and cultural dynamics resides when
lineal and spatial manifestations from that life are
acknowledged in their own right. In Rumsey’s
examination of “topographic objectification” in a
landscape of totemic references in the Morehead River
area of Papua New Guinea and among the Iatmul
people of Sepik, the concept of spatial unity derived
from ancestral tracks that emanated from a featureless
pit at the beginning of the world and from which
ancestral movements in space and associated phenom-
ena designated clan properties, features linear and
spatial ideas and actions of both practical and spiritual
value. The difference between this kind of ancestral
tracking and that of Australian aboriginal peoples is the
greater abstraction of actual places from the empower-
ing force of their names in Morehead River cosmology
than is true of Aboriginal approaches to such inscrip-
tions. However, admitting these ideas of spatial unity
and ancestral tracks and property segmentation into
ethnomathematical levels of describing societies bodes
well for their relevance in the intricate nature that
mathematical ideas in a society play in understanding
social structures, values, and perceptions. Perhaps
we can be reminded here of Bishop’s suggestion that
even a universal term such as “ethnomathematics” for
indigenous contexts may not serve the Sepik and
Morehead River areas (or those of Maekula or perhaps
of any other area discussed above) very well.
Environmentally based concepts of lines, distances,
division and segmentation, topographical and oceanic
references (both practical and mythical), enumeration
by systems of indigenous diffusion and acculturation
(and now those of an influential western world),
perceptions of space and measurement, and any
number of mathematical principles that have emerged
from various literatures on the Pacific clearly underline
the centrality of these cultural contexts.
See also: ▶Quipu
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M
Mathematics in Vietnam
A LEXEI V OLKOV
Traditional Vietnamese mathematics has never been
studied systematically. Rare mentions of Vietnamese
mathematical works are either written by nonspecialists
or based on second-hand information. No systematic
efforts were made by modern researchers to locate,
publish, or study the corpus of extant Vietnamese
documents concerning mathematics. General works by
colonial French scholars, such as the book by Huard
and Durand (1954: 120, 144) or the paper by the
modern Vietnamese author Ta. (1979) contain only
scarce and sometimes unreliable information on the
traditional Vietnamese mathematics (Volkov 2002:
375). Similarly, no more than a short paragraph was
devoted to the topic in the recent book A history of
Chinese mathematics by Martzloff (1997: 110).
The first attempt to study the extant materials on
Vietnamese mathematics was made by the Chinese
mathematician and historian of science, Zhang Yong
章用 (1911–1939). In 1938 Zhang Yong visited Hanoi
and explored the collection of books of the French
1426 Mathematics in Vietnam
School of the Far East (École française d’Extrême-
orient) (Li 1954). In 1939, soon after his travel Zhang
Yong passed away and his findings were not published.
Only recently Han Qi provided a brief introduction to
the extant Vietnamese astronomical and mathematical
texts written mainly on the basis of his study of
the partial copies of Vietnamese treatises made by
Zhang Yong in Vietnam and preserved in Beijing (Han
1991). Recently the author of these lines published
several papers (Volkov 2002, 2004, 2005, 2006) on the
basis of his preliminary investigation of the original
mathematical treatises preserved in Vietnam and in
France.
Vietnamese Mathematics: An Outline
Vietnam gained independence from China in the tenth
century AD; the country was united and proclaimed an
Empire in 968. At that time the Vietnamese state took
shape based upon the blueprint of its Chinese
counterpart, and a State University (Quoc tu giam
國子監, Chinese Guozi jian, literally Directorate of
Education for Sons of the State), an equivalent of the
Chinese University of the Tang dynasty, was estab-
lished early in the eleventh century. There are records
about the metropolitan examinations in “counting”
(suan, Viet. toán 算) that took place in 1077, 1179,
1261, 1363, 1404, 1437, 1472, 1505, 1698, 1711,
1725, 1732, 1747, 1762, 1767, and 1777. In a record of
1762 the mathematics examinations were ordered to be
held every 15 years.
The official mathematics examinations were suspended
in China by the end of the Tang dynasty (618–907) and
reintroduced during the Song dynasty (960–1279). The
mathematical textbooks were reedited and block-printed
in 1084; the examinations were held in 1104, 1106, 1109,
and 1113 (Hucker 1985; Martzloff 1997: 82). It may be
therefore assumed that in the eleventh century the
Vietnamese mathematics education and examination
system functioned following the Chinese tradition of
the late first millennium AD. However, the oldest
mathematical textbooks supposedly used in Vietnam
were lost, most likely, prior to the mid-fifteenth century.
One of the possible reasons for the loss was the massive
destruction of books during the war with Champa (1371)
and during the Chinese occupation in the early fifteenth
century (Tran 1938: 43–45; Cadière and Pelliot 1904:
619, n. 3). In 1460–1497 two successive orders of the
newly established Lê 黎 dynasty prescribed to look for
ancient books all over the country and to deliver them to
the court, yet there is no available information concerning
any mathematical or astronomical books found during
these campaigns. The state of mathematics and mathe-
matics education in Vietnam of the eleventh to fifteenth
centuries thus cannot be reconstructed, at least on the
basis of the available sources.
The state mathematicians and astronomers in the
seventeenth century Vietnam are mentioned in the records
of the Jesuit scholars, Christoforo Borri (1583–1632),
Julien (Giuliano) Baldinotti (1591–1631), and Alexandre
de Rhodes (1591–1660). In his book Relation on the New
Mission of the Fathers of the Company of Jesus to the
Kingdom of Cochinchina published in 1631, Borri
describes in great detail his predictions of the lunar and
solar eclipses on December 9, 1620 and on May 22, 1621
he used to convert Vietnamese functionaries (Borri 1631:
178–190, 1931: 372–381).1 Borri mentions that the court
astronomers of the Nguyen Lords (who at that time
reigned over the Central part of the present day Vietnam)
were usually calculating eclipses with the accuracy of
2–3 h (Borri 1931: 378). In his book Baldinotti mentions
the discussions he had with the “King of Tonkin” (i.e.,
Northern Vietnam) about “the Sphere” (Baldinotti 1629:
196); most likely, he refers to the treatise Tianwen lüe
天問略 (Brief account on the Questions concerning
the Heaven), a compendium of Ptolemaic astronomical
theories compiled by Manuel Dias in 1614 (Dudink 2001:
201). In turn, A. de Rhodes visited Northern and Central
Vietnam in 1624–1640 and mentioned in his book
the numerous discussions of astronomical topics he had
with local astronomers and geomancers (whom he
indiscriminately calls “mathematicians”) as well as with
the rulers of the both parts of Vietnam (de Rhodes 1854:
111–113, 185). All three accounts suggest that by the
early seventeenth century Vietnamese mathematical
astronomers and high-rank officials were capable of
conducting sophisticated astronomical calculations and
were aware of contemporaneous Chinese (and, therefore,
European) astronomical theories.
It appears that the state mathematics education
survived in Vietnam at least until the early nineteenth
century. The reign of the Emperor Minh Mệnh (Minh
Ma.ng) 明命 (Nguyễn Phúc Đảm 1791–1841) was the
time when traditional Chinese scholarship of the Ming
dynasty (i.e., prior to the Manchu invasion and the rule
of the Qing dynasty, 1644–1911) was highly appre-
ciated, and even though the European mathematics and
astronomy, as suggested above, may have been known
to Vietnamese court astronomers beginning from the
early seventeenth century, the Vietnamese treatises of
the nineteenth century and even early twentieth century
still looked similar to Chinese texts prior to the early
seventeenth century (see below).
The list of the Chinese books on mathematics and
mathematical astronomy preserved in the imperial
library in Hue in the nineteenth century reconstructed
1
It is possible that the way in which Borri used his
astronomical expertise to convert the Vietnamese function-
aries was known to the Jesuit Ferdinand Verbiest whose
prediction of a solar eclipse in 1669 played a crucial role in
the history of the Jesuit mission in China.
 Mathematics in Vietnam 1427

on the basis of the extant catalogs includes 59 titles.

The list shows that the collection of mathematical
books in the library (presumably accessible to the
officers of the Astrological Bureau) contained mainly
pre-Qing and early Qing mathematical treatises not
influenced by European mathematics. It remains
unknown whether this was the result of a deliberate
choice of the authorities made in attempt to restore
classical Chinese scholarly tradition.

The Extant Vietnamese Mathematical Treatises:

A General Outline
The number of extant treatises representing Vietnamese
mathematical tradition amounts to 19, yet only seven of
them (nos. 1–7 below) can be dated. Their list reads as
follows:
1. Toán pháp đa.i thành 算法大成 (Great Compendi-
um of Mathematical Methods). By Lương Thế Vinh.
Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
2. Cửu chương lập thành toán pháp 九章立成算法
(Ready-made Computational Methods of Nine
Categories). By Pha.m Hữu Chung 范有鍾, 1713.
Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi;
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France; The
National Library of Vietnam, Hanoi.
3. Chỉ minh lập thành toán pháp 指明立成算法
(Guide for understanding of the Ready-made
Calculational Methods). By Phan Huy Khuông 潘
輝框, 1820. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom
Studies, Hanoi, Vietnam; The Institute of Informa-
tion on Social Sciences,2 Hanoi; Ecole française
d’extrême-orient, Paris (microfilm).
4. Ý Trai toán pháp nhất đắc lu.c 意齋算法一得錄
(A Received Copy of the Computational Methods
of Ý Trai). By Nguyễn Hữu Thận 阮有慎 [=Nguyễn
Ý Trai], 1829. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom
Studies, Hanoi.
5. Cửu chương toán pháp 九章算法 (Computational
methods of Nine Categories); another title: Cửu
chương toán pháp lập thành 立成 (Ready-made
Computational methods of Nine Categories),
1882. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies,
Hanoi; The Institute of Information on Social
Sciences,3 Hanoi.
6. Bút toán chỉ nam 筆算指南 (Compass of Hand-
written [lit. “Brush”] Computations). By Nguyễn
Cẩn 阮堇, revised by Kiu Oánh Mậu 喬瑩懋,
1909. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies,
Hanoi; Ecole française d’extrême-orient, Paris
(microfilm).
2
According to Tran and Gros (1993).
3 4
According to Tran and Gros (1993).
Mathematics in Vietnam. Fig. 1 Page 75 of the Thống tông
toán pháp 統宗算法 (Systematic Treatise on Computational
Methods). By Ta. Hữu Thưrờng 謝有常. Picture coutresy of M
the National Library, Hanoi.
7. Toán pháp 算法 (Computational methods). By
Nguyễn Cẩn 阮堇, revised by Kiều Oánh Mậu 喬
瑩懋. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies,
Hanoi.
8. Đa.i thành toán ho.c chỉ minh 大成算學指明
(Guidance and explanations for the Great
Compendium of Mathematical Learning). By Pha.m
Gia Kỷ 范嘉紀; revised by Pha.m Gia Chuyên 范嘉
瑼. Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies,
Hanoi.
9. Lập thành toán pháp 立成算法 (Ready-made
computational methods). Location: The Institute
of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi; the Institute of
Information on Social Sciences, Hanoi;4 the
Institute of History, Hanoi.
10. Thống tông toán pháp 統宗算法 (Systematic
Treatise on Computational Methods). By Ta. Hữu
Thường 謝有常. Location: The National Library,
Hanoi (see Fig. 1).
11. Toán điền trừ cửu pháp 算田除九法 (Nine methods
of division for computations [related to] fields).
Location: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
According to Tran and Gros (1993).
1428 Mathematics in Vietnam
12. Toán ho.c để uẩn 算學底蘊 (Reaching the Depths
of the Science of Computation). Location: The
Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
13. Toán ho.c tâm pháp 算學心法 (Mental Methods of
the Science of Computation). Preface 1850.
Location: The Institute of Information on Social
Sciences, Hanoi.
14. Toán ho.c cách trí 算學格致 (Exploration [of
Things] and Extension [of Knowledge] in the
Science of Computations).5 Location: The Institute
of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
15. Toán pháp 算法 (Computational methods).6 Loca-
tion: The Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi;
The Institute of Information on Social Sciences,
Hanoi;7 Ecole française d’extrême-orient, Paris
(microfilm).
16. Toán pháp đề cương 算法提綱 (Presentation of
the Key Points in the Computational Methods).8
Location: The National Library, Hanoi.
17. Toán pháp ký diệu 算法奇妙 (Mysteries of
Computational Methods). Location: The Institute
of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
18. Tổng tu. chư gia toán pháp đa.i toàn 總聚諸家算法
大全 (Great Compendium of the Computational
methods of All Schools). Location: The Institute of
Information on Social Sciences, Hanoi;9 the
Institute of Han-Nom Studies, Hanoi.
19. Trùng dính Toán ho.c chỉ nam tân biên 重訂算法
指南新編 (New Edition of the Re-established [text
of the] Compass for Method of Computations).
Location: The Institute of History, Hanoi.
The book conventionally considered the oldest, the
Toán pháp đa.i thành, is credited to the authorship of
one Lương Thế Vinh 梁世榮 (1441–1496?), a high-
rank official of the Lê 黎 dynasty (1428–1789), yet the
authorship of Lương is problematic (see below).
Another book (no. 2 in the list) was compiled in the
early eighteenth century, and three (nos. 3–5), in
the nineteenth century, while the last of the dated books
(no. 6) was published as late as the early twentieth
century. Since the compilers of the book no. 7 are
the same as of the book no. 6, one can conjecture
that the latter was also compiled in the late nineteenth–
early twentieth century. None of the remaining 12
5
The book is listed in Tran and Gros (1993) under the title
Toán pháp 算法 (Computational methods).
6
The original title of the book remains unknown; the title
“Computational methods” was apparently given to a
manuscript with missing first pages on the basis of its
contents.
7
According to Tran and Gros (1993).
8
This is not the title of the book. The first page(s) of the
manuscript is (are) missing and the subtitle of its first section
is used as its title in the catalogue of the National Library.
9
According to Tran and Gros (1993).
books are mentioned in the bibliographic chapter of
the Đa.i Việt thông sử (Complete History of the Grand
Viet) accomplished in 1749 by the famous Vietnamese
literatus Lê Quý Đôn 黎貴惇 (1726–1784?), and one
can be tempted to date all the books not earlier than
the late eighteenth century (Gaspardone 1934: 149;
Tran 1938: 97–98). On the other hand, the mathemat-
ical contents of the books are similar to that of
Chinese mathematical treatises antedating the intro-
duction of European mathematical methods to China
by the Jesuits in the early seventeenth century.
The Structure of a Mathematical Treatise: The
Example of the Toán pháp d–a.i thành
There are two manuscript copies of the treatise Toán
pháp đa.i thành, both found in the Han-Nom Institute,
Hanoi; their call numbers are VHv 1152 and A 2931.
When manuscript A 2931 was produced is unknown
(but it certainly happened prior to 1934), while the date
when the copy VHv 1152 was made (1944) is written
on its front page; a comparison of the copies suggests
that the MS VHv 1152 is a copy of A 2931. Neither
manuscript has a preface or a postface, or any other data
which would suggest the date when the treatise was
compiled or would specify the identity of the author(s).
The name of the presumed author (“Doctor Lương Thế
Vinh”) is written only on the first page of each
manuscript next to the title; however, it is possible that
this page was added later (see also Gaspardone 1934:
149, n. 1).
The treatise is compiled in the traditional “Chinese”
way, as a collection of problems with numerical answers
given along with the procedures (algorithms) for their
solution. There are also several procedures that do not
correspond to any particular problems; most probably this
is the result of loss of parts of the text containing the
corresponding problems and answers. The total number
of problems in the treatise amounts to 138. Some
geometric problems are not explicitly stated, but
introduced with a diagram of a figure with given
dimensions. In one case neither numerical data nor a
problem accompanied an algorithm, yet the algorithm
may well be a fragment from the famous Chinese “Sunzi
remainder problem.”
The text of the treatise can be subdivided into eight
parts:
Part 1 (problems 1–35) contains problems devoted
to partitioning, and, in particular, to division. Part
2 (problems 36–42) contains problems devoted to the
calculation of the areas of plane figures: a square, a
rectangle, a figure approximated by the area of a
trapezium, a circle, and a segment of a circle. Part 3
(problems 43–69) contains problems devoted to
proportions, the rule of three, and the rule of double
false position, as well as to rather simple cases of

multiplication and division. This part also includes a
method for calculating the height of an object when the
height of another object and the length of the shadows
of both objects are given. Part 4 (problems 70–85)
contains problems devoted to root extraction and to an
auxiliary algorithm used for the conversion of
monetary units of one type into another. Part 5
(problems 86–93) is a sequel to Part 3. The reader is
asked to solve problems on the calculation of interest
and on multiplication and division. However, there is a
problem devoted to the calculation of the volume of a
solid figure and a fragment on divination. Part 6
(problems 94–131) is related to various subjects, such
as calculations of the areas of various figures. Here one
finds such shapes as rectangles, circular segments, a
“horn of the bull,” circles, “drums,” ellipses, rings, an
“eye-lid” (or “eye-brow,” that is, the intersection of two
circles), an isosceles triangle, a rectilinear figure
composed of several adjacent trapezia, a trapezium, a
quadrilateral with four given sides, and the figure
formed by two adjacent squares. The remaining
problems in this group are devoted to the extraction
of square roots, calculation of the volumes of recti-
linear solids, and to the conversion of metrological
units. Part 7 does not contain mathematical problems;
this is a large independent text devoted to land taxation.
Part 8 (problems 132–138) embraces various problems
devoted to “numerical divination,” the calculation of
the height of a tree when the length of its shadow
is given, a rhymed solution to a problem of indetermi-
nate analysis, and the calculation of the area of a
quadrilateral.
Several “earmarked” mathematical problems and
methods found in the Toán pháp đa.i thành studied in
order to suggest the possible origins of the contents
of the treatise were discussed in (Volkov 2002). The
analysed topics included: (1) the counting instruments
to be used; (2) the 9 × 9 multiplication table featured
in the treatise; (3) the lists of the so-called “large
numbers”; (4) rhymed algorithms for computation of
areas; (5) problems of remote surveying; (6) problems
related to numerical divination; and (7) problems on
indeterminate analysis. The results of the comparison
of the above-mentioned mathematical methods, pro-
blems, and instruments with their Chinese counterparts
can be summarized as follows (for more details see
Volkov 2002):
1. The lack of explicit references to the abacus in the
treatise suggests that either the Compendium was
compiled before Vietnamese mathematicians were
acquainted with any Chinese books devoted to
abacus calculations, or it was compiled later solely
on the basis of Chinese and Vietnamese mathemati-
cal books written prior to 1573 when the first extant
Chinese mathematical treatise devoted especially to
Mathematics in Vietnam 1429
the use of the abacus, Xu Xinlu’s 徐心魯 Counting
procedures for Pearls on a Plate (Panzhu suanfa 盤
珠算法), was published.
2. The text of the treatise does not contain any
information confirming that it was indeed authored
by Luong Thế Vinh, the fifteenth century literatus
and official.
3. It is not impossible, however, that the book may
well have been a compilation made exclusively on
the basis of mathematical treatises compiled in
China prior to the late fifteenth century and later
available in Vietnam. However, the compilation of
the treatise involved a substantial “localization,”
that is the adaptation of the problems and methods
to local measure units, currency, tax system, as well
as to the names of specific local objects mentioned
in the problems (plants, drugs, kinds of food,
animals, etc.).
4. The seeming similarity between certain methods in
the Compendium and in the Chinese treatise Suanfa
tongzong 算法統宗 (1592) by Cheng Dawei 程大位
does not necessarily mean that the Vietnamese text
was compiled on the basis of the book of Cheng. The
similarity can be explained by the fact that Cheng
himself based his manual on numerous mathematical
texts compiled in the thirteenth to sixteenth centuries
available to him, firstly and most importantly, the
treatises of Yang Hui 楊輝 (fl. ca. 1275) and Wu Jing
吳敬 (fl. ca. 1450). It is not impossible that the
M
compilers of the Compendium also had access to
these treatises, or to other older Chinese treatises
containing similar materials and later lost.
The preliminary exploration of the contents of the
Vietnamese treatise Toán pháp đa.i thành presented in
(Volkov 2002) thus did not permit a clear picture of
its origins. The exploration of the materials related to
the life and activity of its presumed author, Lương
Thế Vinh, thus appeared necessary to establish the
origins of the book. The obtained results of this
exploration (Volkov 2005, 2006) are summarized in
the following section.
Lương Thê´ Vinh: The Case of a “Mathematical
Agiography”
The biographies of Lương can be provisionally
subdivided into two categories, the “historical biogra-
phies” and the “legendary accounts.” The “historical
biographies” of Lương Thế Vinh are found in the
collections of biographies Đăng khoa lu.c 登科錄
(Records of successful examinees) by Nguyễn Hoãn
阮俒 (1712–1791) et al., in the manuscript entitled
登科錄抄本 (Manuscript copy of the Records of
successful examinees), and in the treatise Li.ch đa.i đa.i
khoa lu.c 歷代大科籙 (Records of Great Examinations
1430 Mathematics in Vietnam

Through Generations). All these texts present rather

short descriptions of Lương’s official career and
specify his birthplace and his official duties within
the Hàn lâm 翰林 Academy. Second and third treatises
mention a mathematical book he wrote, yet provide
different titles for the book. The second and the
third biographies mention that Lương’s diplomatic
activities, the details of which, however, remain
unspecified.
The second group of the extant Lương’s biographies
focus primarily on the supernatural circumstances of his
life and death. The following four collections of
biographies of successful examination candidates con-
tain his biographies including “supernatural” elements
that slightly differ from source to source and are
sometimes placed in different order:

1. The Đăng khoa lu.c 登科錄 (Records of successful

examinees) by Nguyễn Hoản.
2. The Đăng khoa lu.c sưu giảng 登科錄搜講
(Investigation and discussion of the Records of
successful examinees), by Trần Tiến 陳璡
(1709?–?).
3. The Đa.i Việt đỉnh nguyên Phật lu.c 大越鼎元佛錄
(Records of the Successful Candidates and of those
who attained Buddhahood in the Great Viet
[=Vietnam]).
4. The Nam sử tập biên 南史輯編 (Histories of the
South [=Vietnam], collected and edited), by Vũ Văn
Lập (1896).
A short description of the “supernatural” biographies
is found in (Volkov 2005), and the translation of one of
them is published in (Volkov 2006). The preliminary
analysis of the legends suggests that the early legends
of Lương were created in two nonintersecting social
circles (that can be dubbed “Palace” and “Village”), yet
both groups of legends portrayed him as possessing
supernatural powers or divine origin. One can conjecture
that the reason why he became associated with
mathematics may have been related to his official duties
during his lifetime such as, for example, his participation
in diplomatic activities and in military operations against
the Cham, his work in cartography, etc., briefly
mentioned in his biographies. His legendary capacities
of “counting” and “measuring” (in a broader sense) in this
case would have merged with his established status of
supernatural being and thus may have made him the
patron saint of professional mathematicians by the early
eighteenth century (Volkov 2005).
The temple devoted to Lương Thế Vinh 梁狀元祠
located in his native village Cao Hương (Nam Dinh
Province, Vu Ban district) hosts the statue of Lương,
his portrait, details of his official costume (boots and
hat), and a number of Imperial edicts related to the
establishment and functioning of the temple (Volkov
Mathematics in Vietnam. Fig. 2 The portrait of Lương Thế
Vinh preserved in his temple, Cao Hương village.
2005). The official portrait of Lương preserved in the
temple (Fig. 2) depicts him as a state functionary
without making any visual reference to the miraculous
circumstances of his birth and life; only one inscript-
ion mentions a mathematical work he presumably
authored.
The Chỉ minh laˆp thành toán pháp and the Model
˙
Examination Paper
The mathematical treatise Chỉ minh lập thành toán
pháp 指明立成算法 (Guide for Understanding of the
Ready-made Calculational Methods) was compiled by
Phan Huy Khuông 潘輝框 in 1820 (Tran and Gros
1993; 1: 258). The last, fourth chapter of the book
contains a model examination essay that spreads over
almost six pages. This unique document is particularly
interesting for the history of mathematics education in
Vietnam and China.
The text of the model examination work written by
Phan Huy Khuông contains a rather simple problem:
three categories of officials, A, B, and C have to be
remunerated with N = 5,292 lương of silver; the ratio of
the amounts of silver to be given to the functionaries
of the three ranks is a:b:c = 7:5:2, and the numbers of
functionaries of each category are A = 8, B = 20, and
C = 300. The question is to find the “scaled
distribution” for them, i.e., the amounts of silver x, y,
z given to each functionary of the categories A, B, and
C, such that x:y:z ∴ a:b:c, and Ax + By + Cz = N. The
problem of this type are found as early as in the
Suanshu shu (prior to the early second century BCE)

and in the Jiuzhang suanshu (the first century AD), and
are also found in a large number of medieval Chinese
mathematical treatises. To solve the problem, the
imaginary model candidate has to use the method
based on the following idea: since x:y:z ∴ a:b:c, the
ratio of the magnitudes Ax + By + Cz and Aa + Bb + Cc
will be the same as x:a = y:b = z:c. This latter ratio can
easily be found: since Ax + By + Cz = N is given,
x:a = y:b = z:c = Ax + By + Cz:Aa + Bb + Cc = 5292:
(56 + 100 + 600) = 5,292:756 = 7:1, hence the solution
(Volkov 2004).
The solution of this particular problem is not as
important as the very form of the essay suggested by Phan
Huy Khuông, most likely an instructor of an educational
institution. Firstly, the candidate is supposed to check the
data proposed in the problem; secondly, he has to find a
solution to the problem. The basic algorithm is certainly
known to the examinee, he is not supposed to invent it
anew. Yet he has to apply it correctly to the given data and
to make sure that it works and that the obtained solution
satisfies the original conditions. This style of the “model”
examination work found in the nineteenth century
Vietnamese mathematical treatise thus was essentially
the same as that of the mathematics examinations papers
of the Tang dynasty (Siu and Volkov 1999).
Conclusions
The available materials do not suggest any reliable
picture of the traditional Vietnamese mathematics
prior to the fifteenth century, and no information is
available concerning the transformation of the system
of mathematics education that most likely resulted
from the Chinese occupation of Vietnam in the early
fifteenth century. However, numerous sources suggest
that mathematics and mathematical astronomy occu-
pied in Vietnamese society a position similar to that of
its Chinese counterpart in the first millennium AD and
remained a discipline supported by the state until the
early twentieth century.
The extant Vietnamese mathematical treatises were
produced, most likely, in the early eighteenth–late
nineteenth centuries on the basis of older Vietnamese
mathematical treatises drawing upon their Chinese
counterparts of the Ming dynasty. Their preliminary
investigation suggests that the Vietnamese mathemati-
cians were not willing to include the elements of the
contemporaneous Western mathematics introduced by
Western missionaries in China in the early seventeenth
century. The Vietnamese mathematical treatises appear
rather similar to the Yuan and Ming dynasty corpus of
the “practical” or “popular” Chinese mathematical
treatises (dramatically different from the high-level
mathematical texts devoted to the higher degree
polynomial algebra of the late Song–early Yuan
dynasties). In the Ming dynasty China (1368–1644),
Mathematics in Vietnam 1431
the traditional mathematics was transformed into an
applied discipline used for practical ends by low-level
state officials, merchants, artisans, etc., while remain-
ing the subject of the research conducted by isolated
scholars without the ideological or material support
of the state who were interested in what would be
called nowadays intellectual history; it was no longer
one of the subjects of the state examinations, as it
used to be during the Tang (618–907) and Song (960–
1279) periods. In Vietnam, on the contrary, the
discipline remained embedded in the framework of
the old Chinese-style state education, employed tra-
ditional didactic practices, and was linked to the
bureaucratic hierarchy via the institution of mathemat-
ics examinations.
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Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal
Australians
H ELEN V ERRAN
Yolngu Aboriginal Australians live as members of
around 20 different clan groups in northeast Arnhem
Land in Australia’s Northern Territory. They organise
their collective and individual lives through a mathe-
matics system very different to the modern system of
abstracting through number and quantification. The
modern system is incorporated as a subsidiary to their
indigenous mathematical system. The Yolngu form of
indigenous mathematics can be understood as exem-
plifying the many similar systems that have life in
hundreds of Aboriginal Australian communities.
To consider notions of Aboriginal mathematics
usefully in a short space we need to avoid the academic
controversies over what mathematics is about and
how we know it, while still demonstrating something
held in common between the two arenas we identify as
Western and Yolngu Aboriginal mathematics. Before
we can say anything about mathematics in the life of
Aboriginal Australian communities it will help to look
briefly at the cluster of meanings associated with the
term ‘mathematics’ in Western life.
Bowing to the antiquity of the notion of mathematics
we can note the Greek origins of the words mathemat-
ics and mathesis/mathetic. This cluster of words
coming to us in English through Latin carries original
ideas of learning, seeing and mental discipline. To
these are added overtones of systematicity: arith-
metic, geometry and reasoning. Western mathematics
involves rigorous and systematic ways of seeing and
working things out, and is intimately tied up with the
constitution of the social order at both the macro- and
micro-level. That much is uncontroversial. But asking
about the objects which constitute mathematics brings
us to less solid ground. Most people want to answer
that mathematics is constituted of abstract objects.
But constrained to ask what abstract objects are, we
find ourselves amongst the disagreeing philosophers
and mathematicians and in the realm of metaphysics.
The objects of Western mathematics are forms that
inhabit an arena seen as somehow beyond the concrete
here-and-now. Those mathematical forms, glimpsed
through material objects and arrangements, are usually
taken as representations of mathematical objects. In
contrast the objects of Yolngu Aboriginal mathematics
have life in the concrete here-and-now in that they are
performed or enacted. In their being performed or
collectively enacted, ‘The Dreaming’ or Wangarr,
which is the origin of Yolngu mathematical objects, is
remade in the present. There are significant differences
between Western mathematics and Yolngu Aboriginal
mathematics at the metaphysical level. I will not
explore those differences here. Rather I look for a
similarity that can be seen as lying within this
overarching difference.
A commonsense way of beginning is to take
numbers as representative of the sorts of objects we
find in mathematics. Many of us are comfortable with
seeing numbers embedded in very practical matters like
tallying with fingers or stones. We continue to talk of
‘digits’ alluding to a historical role for fingers, and
perhaps for toes. We do not, however, expect that
numbers should remain tied to those practical origins.
Most people are quite comfortable with numbers being
highly mobile, working so as to pattern and order, in
almost any situation. Of course, there are many

mathematicians and philosophers who would disagree
with this way of coming up with a working definition
of mathematical objects because it seems to downgrade
the significance of numbers and other mathematical
objects, a significance deriving from their proper status
as ‘abstract’.
My approach emphasises instead the ways numbers
are embodied and embedded in ongoing collective life,
irrespective of whether that is the rarified halls of
university departments of mathematics, or the aisles of
supermarkets and the anxiety ridden rooms of weight-
loss clinics. Nevertheless taking this everyday collec-
tive and materialist understanding of number as a
mathematical object seriously I suggest that it can
provide a minimalist basis for comparing and contrast-
ing Western mathematics with the mathematics in
Aboriginal Australia.
Can we identify an arena of collective Aboriginal
Australian life with the characteristics of rigor and
systematicity, which is tied up with the working of
entities involved in patterning and constituting order in
multiple heterogeneous contexts? We could point to
any Aboriginal Australian community and identify just
such an ‘Aboriginal mathematics’, although it is likely
that among the many different Aboriginal Australian
communities such an arena would go under different
names. Here I confine myself to considering some
mathematical elements in the life of contemporary
Yolngu Aboriginal Australians. We look at gurrutu a
mathematical-like discourse and set of practices
embedded in Yolngu life. In Yolngu life, gurrutu is
expressed in the many and heterogenous material
practices of doing kinship relations, including land
ownership, although to render the term gurrutu in
English is just as difficult as expressing mathematics in
the cluster of Yolngu languages. This mundane way of
describing gurrutu would not satisfy my Yolngu
friends. However, recognising that caveat while putting
it aside, just as I have put the concerns of mathema-
ticians aside, I go on to explore some interesting
similarities between Western and Yolngu Aboriginal
mathematics. I begin by speculating about possible
material origins of the contrasting mathetic objects in
Western mathematics and gurrutu.
A familiar story about origins of numbers in
Western mathematics sees them as originating in the
practices of material tallying. This is modeling an
event or episode in the world with a material encoding
process. We can see this as using a finger to encode
the passing of a sheep through a gate, the placing of a
pebble to encode the pointing at a soldier, or the
engraving of a line on a bone or a piece of wood to
record the filling of a vessel with grain. This imagines
the involvement of fingers and toes in tally keeping in
a non-linguistic way. One separated digit codes for
one separated item. But if we then extend the coding
operation and say a word which codes for the finger or
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians 1433
toe, we have done something much more complex and
ended up with a code which is much more useful than
the material code of fingers and toes or display of
objects like dropping stones into a bucket or adding
another shell to the pile.
In saying a word as a finger is held up to code for an
item involved in some event we understand that the
word we say does not name either the item or the finger.
It names a position in a progression. Numerals are
words that code for a position in a series. A set of
number names, a numeral system, is characterised by
having a sequential base pattern and recursivity.
Numerals constitute an infinite series by having a base
about which repetition occurs, and a set of rules by
which new elements are generated. The contemporary
numeral system which has developed in association
with Indo-European languages like English has ten as
its base; in other words ten is the point in the series
which marks the end of the basic set of numerals. As
each ten is reached, the basic series is started again,
each time recording in the numeral how many tens
have been passed. The rule by which new elements
are devised is addition of single units and base ten units.
A similar story can be told of origins of one set of
mathetic objects in Yolngu Aboriginal life. Imagine
Yolngu people plotting the spatial pattern of land sites
owned by related groups of people. Stones and shells
might be taken to represent positions in the mesh of
family relations and the sites owned by the various
M
groups. The shells/stones symbolise the links between
people and land, and placed on sites through which
land is owned they both express and demonstrate the
pattern of the network of linkages between related
groups of people and their lands. Naming can codify
the relations, just as position in a sequence can be
codified by names in numbering. But codifying
relations with names is more complicated than
codification of an event signalled with a finger. In fact
two contrasting relations need to be encoded to begin.
In gurrutu the relation between brother and sister is
contrasted as a formal opposite to that between husband
and wife. By positing an ideal form of marriage a
system of reciprocal names can be devised. So just as
we find human bodies embedded in Western mathe-
matics through numbering, so too we find human
bodies embedded in gurrutu. On biological grounds of
life expectancy we could expect a way to express
family links which recognises the presence of three
generations; necessarily these will be differentiated
along matrilineal and patrilineal lines.
The first mathetic objects are moieties. Brother and
sister belong to the same moiety. Husband and wife
belong to opposite moieties. In Yolngu life these formal
opposites are named Yirritja and Dhuwa. This formal
opposition of the organising categories of Yolngu life –
patrilineal and matrilineal lines allows a matrix in
which everything can be located with respect to all
1434 Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians
other things. Humans and non-humans, living and non-
living, material and non-material, everything is locat-
able – people, places, concepts, images, languages,
animals and plants.
The matrix is elaborated in naming a series of family
relations. Reciprocal pairs of names code for relative
positions in the kinship mesh. They do not name
individual people or clans or places, but relations between
them. Gurrutu names are code for positions in a formal
series, but not a series with a linear form as in numbers.
This is a series with the form of a net or a matrix.
Gurrutu is a form which is primarily a formal map.
Just as the number series is used to ‘reveal’ value in the
material world, the gurrutu matrix is used to reveal
relative location in the material world. For example it
codifies the location of places in the landscape. Table 1
is a list the eight reciprocal pairs which constitute the
base of the gurrutu recursion. The easiest way to begin
to understand these categories is to personalise them in
terms of my kin relations.
Or I could do it the other way around: the person I
call gathu (child) calls me mukul bapa (aunty – father’s
sister) and so on through to the person I call dhuway
(husband) who calls me galay (wife). The dual names
in some rows on the left-hand side of the pairs represent
male and female holders of a position, necessarily
brother and sister. Each of those pairs has the reciprocal
relation of yapa (sister) and wawa (brother). The
reciprocal pair yapa and wawa enable the pattern of
names to work as a true recursion; they are not
themselves members of the base set of reciprocal name
pairs. Elaborating the list of names of gurrutu relations
is analogous to listing the set of numerals from one to
ten. In that set zero holds a pivotal position, enabling
iteration of the number pattern. Zero is not itself a
member of the base set of names and can be understood
as having a similar function to yapa and wawa. In just
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians. Table 1 Kin relations
The person I call
bäpa (man) – father
mukul bäpa (woman) – father’s sister
ngändi (woman) – mother
ngapipi (man) – mother’s brother
märi’mu – father’s father and father’s father’s sister
ngathi (man) – mother’s father
momu (woman) – mother’s father’s sister and simultaneously father’s mother
märi – mother’s mother and mother’s mother’s brother
mumalkur (woman) – mother’s mother’s brother’s wife
ngathiwalkur (man) – mother’s mother’s brother’s wife’s brother
mukul rumaru (woman) – mother’s brother’s wife
maralkur (man) – mother’s brother’s wife’s brother
galay – mothers’ brothers’ daughters and sons simultaneously brother’s wife
and her brothers
the same way as number, the name series of gurrutu
constitutes a recursion where elements, i.e. positions
constituted in the series, provide the basis for further
constitution of elements.
The matrix formed by naming these relations is
understood as re-emerging across history. But the
image of time embedded in history here is not linear; it
is not the form of time Westerners are familiar with. For
Aboriginal Australians time is cyclical. History ac-
cretes in place in going through the cycle mapped out
by the matrix of gurrutu. The cycle of the gurrutu
matrix can be mapped by the ideal cycle of marriage
and child bearing in Yolngu life. This cycle is shown in
diagrammatic form in Fig. 1.
The father of the man marrying (and the father’s
sister) constitute one position (clan A – moiety 1), the
mother of the man marrying (and her brother) a second
position (clan B – moiety 2) and the wife (and her
brother) of the brother of the mother of the man marrying
constitute a third position (clan C – moiety 1). In the
Yolngu case, the pattern of this geneological ideal
implies either two Yirritja clans and a Dhuwa clan, or
Yirritja clan and two Dhuwa clans.
One way to begin describing the structure of this
matrix is to map it in the conventional form that
anthropologists map genealogies. The basic unit in
this map is the hypothetical ideal family tree shown
in Table 2. This ‘ideal unit’ illustrates the fundamental
contrast between the two different sorts of relations
which constitute the gurrutu system of relations: that
between wife and husband and brother and sister.
Exhaustively specifying the primary positions gener-
ated in this genealogical ideal across the generations from
grandchild to grandparent, constitutes eight reciprocal
pairs, 16 positions: two groups and three reciprocal
positions in each: two sets of two to the power of three.
Naming this set of 16 positions constitutes a primary
Calls me
gäthu – child
waku – child
marratja – grandchild
gaminyarr – grandchild
gutharra – grandchild
dhumungurr – mother’s brother’s
mother-in-law
gurrung – mother-in-law
dhuway – sister-in-law

Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians. Fig. 1 Pattern on a Yolngu genealogical idea.
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians.
Table 2 A conventional genealogical map of the basic
elements in Yolngu gurrutu
template, just like naming the set of ten fingers constitutes
a primary template. The eight pairs of reciprocals name
across generations or across matrilineal or patrilineal
lines. The brother/sister reciprocal pair completes the set
of named relations and enables continuing iteration.
Together the names and rules of generation form an
infinite series. When we map the series of eight reciprocal
kin relation pairs with this unit we get this diagram of the
relations named (Table 3).
Laid out in this way it becomes obvious that in the
gurrutu system where every person and everything is
exhaustively located with respect to every one else
and everything else has a three generational interval
known as the mari–gutharra (grandmother/father–
granddaughter/son) relation.
The triple generational/dual moiety recursion con-
stitutes an encompassing pattern of Yolngu life and
social order. Right from the beginning of their lives,
Yolngu babies are instructed on the relation that this or
that person has to them. The set of relations involve
notions of hierarchy and equivalence, but not as a
single-centralised hierarchy. Each position plays differ-
ent roles in several different hierarchies; the many
hierarchies are woven together to form a decentralised
orderly mesh of hierarchies. Gurrutu carries a powerful
ideology; it achieves a general ordering of both the
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians 1435
social and the natural world. It maintains an image of
continuity and permanence across both time and space.
And it is not only people who have gurrutu positions;
all entities in the Yolngu world have positions in the
gurrutu matrix.
I am presenting the number and gurrutu recursions
as analogous, but they are very different in their
content. Should that worry us? These two great
recursions – the tallying recursion codified in counting,
and the genealogic recursion codified in ordering
descent and ancestry – are of a kind, albeit different M
in form. They differ in structure: each number has one
direct antecedent and one direct successor, and each
gurrutu position has two direct antecedent positions
and one successor position. However the two systems
are characterised by recursive definition. A recursive
definition formalises the idea of ‘and so on’. We can
define gurrutu positions as the members shared by all
classes that contain a gurrutu position, and the
successors of all their own members. Similarly we
can define the natural numbers as the members shared
by all classes that contain one and the successors of all
their own members.
Both these recursions are manifest to varying extents
in all human societies. By noting the emphasis on the
genealogic system in Yolngu society I am not saying that
the tallying recursion is entirely absent from Yolngu life;
it is not. Nor, in noting the predominance of tallying in
European derived Australia, I am saying that the
genealogic recursion (arranging matters on the basis of
close and distant kinship) is entirely absent from Western
life. What I am saying is that in Yolngu life the tallying
recursion does not carry the ordering burden that the
genealogic recursion carries. Conversely in Western
society the genealogic recursion carries very little by way
of ordering knowledge or productive processes.
Nor I am suggesting that the ‘great recursions’
operate quite independently of one another. In the
Western world the tallying recursion predominates; it is
1436 Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians. Table 3 A genealogical mapping of the base set of gurrutu elements
the recursion by which most social relations are
effectively ordered. This is not to deny the influence
that the genealogic recursion retains. Yet genealogic
classifications are not exhaustive and applicable as
objective classification throughout the community as
we see them in Yolngu life. In Western life kinship
classifications are discontinuous and discrete. They are
variously regarded as important or not. Westerners can
reject their genealogy and invent ancestors with
impunity. They can lie about their genealogic
relations. The genealogical recursion is taken as
significant only in the biological sense. In the social
sense people can choose to invoke or not to invoke the
recursion.
In contrast to the dominant place of the tallying
recursion as a foundation for reasoning in Western life,
it is involved in Yolngu life in only a secondary way.
Distributive arrangements for turtle eggs invoke an
indigenous tallying recursion; here a recursive material
arrangement – base 5 is engaged and linguistically
encoded (each group of five is one rulu). In
contemporary Yolngu society the use of base 10
tallying recursion predominates when the community
or individuals are dealing with the white social order,
but in exchanges involving only Yolngu the tallying
recursion, as expressed in money for example, is
subordinate to the working of the gurrutu system. It
does not carry the deterministic weight, the aura of
inevitability it carries in non-Aboriginal Australia.
People can choose or not to invoke quantification.
We should not go away with the idea that all
genealogic recursions of Aboriginal Australia are
worked in exactly the same way. Just as the tallying
recursion can be worked differently for different
purposes and by different groups, so Aboriginal
Australian communities work with the genealogic
recursion in different ways. In Yolngu life there are
two distinct genealogical recursions which serve
distinct functions. The distinction between them is
something like the distinction between ordinal and
cardinal numbers.
Juxtaposing number and gurrutu, the primary
principle embedded in these contrasting forms be-
comes evident. The primary principle for manipulating
the categories constituted in the patterns derives
ultimately from the practical, material system which
formed the template of the recursion in its symbolic
constitution. Going back to numbers we can see that
the primary rule of that recursion is a version of the
process of holding up another finger as another sheep
leaps through the gateway. The important thing about
this operation from the point of view of recursion is
that each finger is exactly equivalent to each other
finger. And any collected set of fingers has a precise
and identifiable relation to any other collections of
fingers; they relate to each other as a specific ratio.
The primary principle of the number system is the
principle of ratio: the ratio of any term to another is
determined by the number of times one contains the
other.
The primary principle of working the set of mathetic
objects in gurrutu is quite different. Going back to the
ideal marriage arrangement which underlies gurrutu
we can see that an inherent reciprocity marks the form.
Husband taker and wife taker are reciprocally related.
Clan A and clan B together constitute a unity – the

offspring of the marriage. This is an instantiation of
the principle of reciprocity – two opposing elements
constituting unity. A reciprocal is an expression so
related to another that their product is unity. It is the
inherent opposing duality constituting a unity, which is
the fundamental principle of gurrutu. Every position in
the gurrutu matrix is necessarily constituted by a two-
way naming. The elements of the recursion must be
specified from both ends before they come to life as an
entity within the recursion.
Reciprocity can be pictured as two sides of a coin.
On the old Australian penny (which had the head of the
current king or queen of England on one side and a
kangaroo on the other), ‘head’ and ‘tail’ constitute
reciprocals, and together constitute a unity. The notion
of reciprocal is often difficult for learners of Western
mathematics centred around numbers to understand;
they need to understand fractions before it is possible to
understand reciprocals in a rigorous manner.
In gurrutu reciprocity is primary. If you take any base
family relation as a unit, for example mari–gutharra –
the matrilineal relation across two generations (mother’s
mother or mother’s mother’s brother) – you can
understand it as constituted by the mutual engagement
by both sides. The descendant and the grandmother/
great uncle are equally important in constituting the
unity described by mari–gutharra. Each side is
necessary to constitute the unity held between them.
And just as reciprocity can be secondarily derived in
the system of numbers pivoting around ratio, simi-
larly the notion of ratio can be secondarily derived in
gurrutu. Milmarra is a name given to this way of
rendering gurrutu. A simple ratio involves juxtaposing a
yothu–yindi (mother–child) relation with a mari–
gutharra (child–mother’s mother) relation: “If the
two clans of the yothu–yindi are A and B, what is the
Mari clan?” There is always only one correct answer
which can be understood as expressing the ratio of
the two reciprocals. Such puzzles are often set for
learners of the gurrutu system.
Number and gurrutu are contrasting generalising
logics. Perhaps the most challenging aspect of this
is the notion that there are contrasting generalising
logics in a contemporary way of life. Such a situation
implies the need for continual translation between
logics in that lifeway. Recognising that need opens the
possibility for reflexive consideration of how different
peoples might collectively go on, doing their differ-
ences, including their different generalising logics,
together.
References
Cooke, Michael. Yolngu, Seeing Mathematics. Batchelor, NT:
Batchelor College, 1990.
Mathematics of Yolngu Aboriginal Australians 1437
Harris, Pam. Mathematics in a Cultural Context: Aboriginal
Perspectives on Space, Time and Money. Geelong, Vic:
Deakin University Press, 1991.
Marika-Muninguritj, Raymattja. How Can Balanda (White
Australians) Learn About the Aboriginal World? Batchelor
Journal of Aboriginal Education 1.5 (1992): 7–25.
Rudder, John. An Introduction to Aboriginal Mathematics.
Canberra: Restoration House, 1999.
Verran, Helen. Logics and Mathematics: Challenges Arising
in Working Across Cultures. Mathematics Across Cul-
tures: The History of Non-Western Mathematics. Ed.
Helaine Selin and Ubiritan D’Ambrosio. Dordrecht:
Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000a. 55–78.
---. Aboriginal Australian Mathematics: A Mapping of
Disparate Mathematics of Land Ownership. Mathematics
Across Cultures The History of Non-Western Mathematics.
Ed. Helaine Selin and Ubiritan D’Ambrosio. Dordrecht:
Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000b. 289–312.
Watson, Helen. Language and Mathematics Education for
Aboriginal Australian Children. Language and Education
2.4 (1988): 255–73.
---. The Ganma Project: Research in Mathematics Educa-
tion by the Yolngu Community in the Schools of Laynhapuy
(N.E. Arnhem Land). Language Issues in Learning and
Teaching Mathematics. Ed. Gary Davis and Robert
Hunting. Melbourne: LaTrobe University, 1990. 33–50.
---. Aboriginal Australian Maps. Maps are Territories. Ed.
David Turnbull. Geelong: Deakin University Press, 1989.
28–36; and University of Chicago Press, 1993.
Watson, Helen with the Yolngu Community at Yirrkala and
D. W. Chambers. Singing the Land, Signing the Land.
Geelong: Deakin University Press, 1989.
Watson-Verran, Helen. Review of Language and Number: M
The Emergence of a Cognitive System, by J. Hurford.
Australian Journal of Linguistics 11(1991): 113–20.
Williams, Nancy. The Yolngu and Their Land: A System of
Land Tenure and the Fight for its Recognition. Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 1986.
Yirrkala Community School. Living Maths – The Book of the
Videos. Boulder Valley Films. Distributed History and
Philosophy of Science, University of Melbourne, Victoria
3010, Australia, 1996a.
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Yirrkala Community School. Living Maths 1 Djalkiri – Space
Through Analogs. Boulder Valley Films. Distributed
History and Philosophy of Science, University of
Melbourne, Victoria 3010, Australia, 1996b.
---. Living Maths 2 Space – The Grid Digitised. Boulder Valley
Films. Distributed History and Philosophy of Science,
University of Melbourne, Victoria 3010, Australia, 1996c.
---. Living Maths 3 Gurrutu – Recursion Through Kinship.
Boulder Valley Films. Distributed History and Philosophy
of Science, University of Melbourne, Victoria 3010,
Australia, 1996d.
---. Living Maths 4 Tallying Number. Boulder Valley
Films. Distributed History and Philosophy of Science,
University of Melbourne, Victoria 3010, Australia, 1996e.
Website
Ethnomathematics Digital Library. ▶http://www.ethnomath.
org/.
1438 Mean motions in Indian astronomy
Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy
G EORGE A BRAHAM , J. S AMUEL C ORNELIUS ,
N. G NANAMALAR D AVID
This article is a follow-up of a very important
contribution to the understanding of Indian astronomy
by Billard (Billard 1971, 1977; van der Waerden 1980,
1988) who has calculated the mean longitudes of the
sun, moon, moon’s apogee and node, and those of
the five known planets, from the numerical data in the
main astronomical texts. The errors of these longitudes
are determined by comparing them with the results of
the modern formulae.
Billard uses the methods of mathematical statistics to
find the most probable dates of the observations. His
graphs, in which the errors of the longitudes are plotted
against time from BCE 500 to AD 1900, illustrate his
most important conclusions. For example, the Āryabhat.a
graph, Fig. 1, of this article, (Fig. 6 in Billard’s book)
shows that he made accurate observations at about AD
Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Fig. 1 K. Āryabhat.a.
510. The error lines are for the Sun (☼), Moon (☾),
Moon’s apogee and node (ω, θ), Mercury (☿), Venus
(♀), Mars (♂), Jupiter (♆), and Saturn (♄). There are
large errors on earlier and later dates, showing that the
rate of change of longitudes, the mean motions, are far
from correct.
The synodic graphs of Lalla and Nīlakan.t.ha Somayāji
(our Figs. 2 and 3 and Figs. 18 and 42 of Billard’s book)
stand out conspicuously, compared to the other graphs,
because as many as six lines are close to the zero-line for
most of the time span; therefore their mean motions are
very accurate.
Another important finding of Billard, strongly sup-
ported by Raymond Mercier (1993) is that the date of
the Mahasiddhānta is the early sixteenth century,
against the AD 900 estimate of Dikshit (1985).
In this article, the focus is on mean motions, instead of
longitudes. To begin with, we consider the following
Babylonian period relations (Table 1) (Neugebauer 1975):
From these relations, we can calculate the ratios of
the velocities of the Moon and planets to that of the Sun.
The resulting numbers are in the first row of Table 2,
denoted by O1. The next row M1 are the corresponding

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Fig. 2 K. Lalla.
ratios calculated from modern theory of Simon et al. for
the year BCE 300 (Simon et al. 1994). The third row
numbers are the errors defined by
jO1
M1 j
E1 ¼
M1
We now compare these Babylonian values to those of
Ptolemy. His daily motions of the Sun, Moon, and
planets are given in Billard’s book (1971: 53). From
these velocities, we calculate the same ratios as for the
Babylonian observations and the resulting numbers,
denoted by O2 are in the fourth row of Table 2. The fifth
row M2 are from the modern theory (Simon et al. 1994)
for AD 150 and the errors E2, defined in the same way as
in (1), are in the last row.
The mean values of the Babylonian and Ptolemy’s
errors are E1 = 18.7, E2 = 5.8. The reciprocals of these
numbers are plotted in Fig. 4. Ptolemy is more accurate
by a factor of about 3.
In an earlier paper, we calculated the errors of the
mean lunar and planetary motions of Ptolemy and
Mean motions in Indian astronomy 1439
the most prominent Indian astronomers, Āryabhat.a,
Brahmagupta, Lalla, and Nīlakan.t.ha Somayāji. We
now extend our investigation to include another seven
Indian canons, which have been analysed by Billard.
These are listed in Table 3. The first two columns give
the names and the page reference in Billard’s book
(1971); the next column gives the approximate dates.
The fourth column has the three lunar errors E11 ; E12 ; E13
(synodic, anomalous, draconitic) and the errors E22 to
E25 of the synodic daily motions of the five planets. The
last column gives the mean lunar and planetary errors
E1 and E2 .In Fig. 5a,b we have plotted the values of
1=E1 and 1=E1 , which are a measure of the accuracy of
the Indian observers. The corresponding numbers for
Ptolemy are also shown, based on the errors calculated
in the earlier paper (Abraham 2003). In these figures P
stands for Ptolemy and the 11 Indian canons are
numbered 1–11 as in Table 3.
In Fig. 5a,b Ptolemy, Lalla and Nīlakan.t.ha Somayāji’s
k.TantraS are the most prominent. Their accuracy is the
result of their own observations, also taking into account
1440 Mean motions in Indian astronomy

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Fig. 3 K. Tantra.

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Table 1 Babylonian period relations

Moon Mercury Venus Mars Jupiter Saturn

No. of revolutions 235 1,993 1,871 151 36 9

No. of years 19 480 1,151 284 427 265

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Table 2 Ptolemaic values

Moon/Sun Mercury/Sun Venus/Sun Sun/Mars Sun/Jupiter Sun/Saturn

O1 12.36842105 4.15208333 1.62554301 1.88079470 11.86111111 29.44444444

M1 12.36827354 4.15197000 1.62549917 1.88075194 11.85681389 29.42471118
E1 × 10−5 1.19 2.73 2.70 2.27 36.24 67.06
O2 12.36841579 4.15197630 1.62549378 1.88076904 11.85763221 29.43201683
M2 12.36827213 4.15196976 1.62509912 1.88075181 11.85680702 29.42460065
E2 × 10−5 1.16 0.16 0.33 0.92 6.96 25.20
 Mean motions in Indian astronomy 1441

the observations of others, spread over a long period

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Fig. 4 Babylonian
and Ptolemaic errors.
of time. Āryabat.a’s poor mean motions are due to his
assumption of the conjunction of planets, at the beginning
of the Kaliyuga (van der Waerden 1988).
The Pancasiddhantika’s corrections to the Sūryasid-
dhānta’s planetary motions make a significant improve-
ment, indicating further accurate observations.
The improvements of the later Sūryasiddhānta
over the earlier version, and of Siddhantasiromani’s
k.BrSpS2 compared to that of Brahmasphutasiddhānta
are insignificant.

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Table 3 Seven Indian canons

No. Treatise Canon page no. Approx. E11 ; E21 ; E31 ; E12 ; E22 ; E32 ; E42 ; E52 E1 ; E2
date

1 Sūryasiddhānta k. SūryS, p.75 500 0.17,1.30,1.17; 0.88; 1.94

0.88,4.10,1.94,1.25,2.56
2 Āryabhatīya k. āryabh, p.78 510 0.36,1.11,0.98; 0.82; 1.94
0.71,4.12,1.96,1.33,1.58
3 Pañcasiddhāntikā k. PañcS, p.100 550 0.16,1.32,1.17; 0.88; 1.15
2.06,1.45,0.86,0.41,0.96
4 Brāhmasphutasiddhānta k.BrSpS, p.115 600 0.34,0.83,0.53; 0.57; 1.96
0.80,4.24,1.80,1.33,1.57
5 Sisyadhivrddhidatantra k.Lalla, p.143 900 0.03,0.26,0.08; 0.05; 0.76
0.35,0.27,0.03,0.22,1.39

Mean Motions in Indian Astronomy. Fig. 5 (a) Lunar accuracy, (b) Planetary accuracy.
1442 Meat preservation in ancient Egypt
The planetary motions of the later Sūryasiddhānta
and those of Parameshwara’s Drgganita are remark-
ably close as pointed out by David Pingree (1987: 613),
leading to the same errors in our approximation. The
lunar motions of the two canons are slightly different,
perhaps due to Parameshwara’s new observations.
References
Abraham, G. and Samuel Cornelius, J. Observational
Astronomy. Indian Journal of History of Science 38.4
(2003): 367–76.
Billard, R. L’Astronomie Indiènne, Paris: École française
d’Extrême-Orient, 1971.
Billard, R. Aryabhata and Indian Astronomy. Indian Journal
of History of Science 2.2 (1977) 207–24.
Dikshit, S. B. History of Indian Astronomy, Part II. Calcutta:
Government of India Press, 1985.
Mercier, R. The Date of the Mahasiddhanta. Ganita Bharati
15.1–4 (1993): 1–13.
Neugebauer, O. History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy.
New York: Springer-Verlag, 1975. 390.
Pingree, D. History of Mathematical Astronomy in India.
Dictionary of Scientific Biography. Vol. 15. Ed. Charles G.
Gillispie. New York: Scribners, 1987. 533–633.
Simon, J. L., et al. Numerical Expressions for Precession
Formulae and Mean Elements for the Moon and the
Planets. Astronomy and Astrophysics 282 (1994): 663–83.
van der Waerden, B. L. Two Treatises on Indian Astronomy.
Journal for the History of Astronomy 11 (1980): 50–8.
van der Waerden, B. L. A Summary of Roger Billard’s
L’Astronomie Indienne. Ganita Bharati 10 (1988): 21–30.
Meat Preservation in Ancient Egypt
S ALIMA I KRAM
The ancient Egyptians consumed all types of meat:
mammalian, piscian, and avian. It was an important
source of protein, but one that was not always equally
available to all levels of society. While piscian and
avian meat sources were readily obtainable through
fishing, hunting, and trapping, mammalian meat was
sometimes harder to acquire due to restrictions on
hunting wild game and the expense of killing livestock.
Thus, mammalian meat tended to be more frequently
consumed by the wealthy elite, although it would have
been consumed by other social classes on feasts or at
festive occasions.
Once slaughtered, the meat had to be consumed
immediately to prevent spoilage, or it had to be
processed and preserved for later use. There were
several ways of preserving meats available to the
ancient Egyptians – drying, salting (dry and wet),
smoking, a combination of any of these methods,
pemmicaning, or using fat, beer, or honey curing.
Preserved meat provided a supply of protein for lean
times, a commodity that could be traded, as well as a
convenient food to take on all types of expeditions,
whether exploratory, military, or commercial.
The evidence for the different types of meat
preservation in ancient Egypt comes from two- and
three-dimensional representations, mummified and
preserved meat that comes from tombs, and artefacts,
such as labeled pottery jars pertaining to meat.
Additional information can be gathered from ethno-
and experimental archaeology.
Drying
Drying is the easiest and most common way to preserve
meat. Pieces of meat are cut from the carcass and hung
in the sun to dry. The entire animal can be preserved in
this way, although certain cultures seem to prefer
specific cuts for drying. Drying time depends on the
temperature and the thickness of the cut; generally it
takes between 1 and 3 weeks. Dried meat can last up
to 2 years, depending on storage conditions. Artistic
and archaeological material shows evidence of such
preservation practices.
Pounding meat before it is hung up to dry is a
variation on this process. Some representations found
in tombs support the idea that such a method was used
to preserve meat in ancient Egypt. The pounding of the
meat forces out the liquid in it that could cause
spoilage, thereby making it possible for the meat to last
longer. As a further protection, salt can be rubbed into
the meat before it is dried. The term, iwf dr, suggests
this method of preservation for meat.
Dried meat can also be prepared by boiling small
pieces of meat, and then putting these in the sun to dry.
This method tends to lower the nutritive value of the
meat.
Fish can also be dried very effectively. Tomb
representations show fish being cleaned, opened, and
dried. Actual examples of these have been found at
Deir el-Medina, and there are several references to
dried fish found in Egyptian literature.
Birds were probably not generally dried. Only a
handful of images suggest that poultry was dried, but
these are inconclusive.
Salt
Salt curing is a simple and effective means of preserving
meat, and salt was readily available in ancient Egypt.
Both dry and wet (brine) salting would have been
possible in ancient Egypt, but it is more probable that the
former method would have been more commonly used.
The basic idea was to immerse the meat in salt or brine,
and then to seal it. The salt not only draws out the liquids
in the meat that could cause spoilage, but also deters

bacteria. This was the same precept governing mummi-
fication. Salt curing was faster and more efficient than
simple drying, and the meat thus preserved would have
lasted longer than dried meat.
Archaeological and artistic evidence suggest that
dry salting was the most common method of meat
preservation employed by the ancient Egyptians. Meat,
fish, and poultry were all dried and salted. Scanning
Electron Microscopy carried out on samples of
preserved meat found in tombs supports this theory.
Drying and salting fish is the most common way to
preserve fish, actual examples of which were recovered
from the tomb of Kha, and references to salted fish
appear in texts, notably in the tale of Wenamun. Salt
fish continues to be a staple of the modern Egyptian
diet, especially for peasants. Mullet roe, the earliest
caviar, also used to be preserved in salt and is still kept
in this way today. Birds were also salted, and examples
of these have been recovered from Kha's tomb.
Smoking
Although smoking meat in order to preserve it was
hypothetically possible, it is unlikely that this method
was used in ancient Egypt. The main reason for not
using it was the relative paucity of wood, especially
wood of any aromatic nature.
Fat
Animal fat is commonly used to conserve meat. Goose,
mutton, or cow fat could have been used for this. Meat
was cut up and then cooked with fat and salt and then
placed in a container. Once cool it would have been
sealed. This method, called lahma mahfooz, is still in
use in Egypt today.
Honey
Honey might have been used to preserve food in
ancient Egypt. Certainly, honey has preservative
qualities. Indeed, Alexander the Great's body allegedly
was preserved in honey. However, it is unlikely that
this would have been used, as honey was a valuable
commodity and the only sweetening agent available to
the Egyptians.
Thus, although a significant variety of technologies
were available to the ancient Egyptians, it is clear that
drying and salting meat were the ones that were most
commonly used.
References
Binford, L. Nunamiut Ethnoarchaeology. London: Academic,
1978.
Brewer, D. J. and R. F. Friedman. Fish and Fishing in Ancient
Egypt. Warminster: Aris and Phillips, 1989.
Mechanical technology and instruments of China 1443
Bruyère, B. Rapport Sur les Fouilles de Deir el Medineh,
1931–32. Cairo: IFAO, 1934.
---. Rapport Sur les Fouilles de Deir el Medineh, 1934–35.
Cairo: IFAO, 1937.
Caminos, R. Late Egyptian Miscellanies. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1954.
Darby, W. J., et al. Food: The Gift of Osiris. Vols. 1–2. San
Francisco: Academic, 1977.
Dumont, J. La Pèche dans le Fayoum Hellenistique.
Chronique d'Égypte 104 (1977): 125–55.
Forbes, R. J. Studies in Ancient Technology. Vol. 3. Leiden:
University of Leiden, 1965.
Hayes, W. C. Inscriptions from the Palace of Amenhotep III.
Journal of Near Eastern Studies 10 (1951): 35–56;
82–112; 156–83.
Ikram, S. Choice Cuts: Meat Production in Ancient Egypt.
Leuven: Peeters, 1995a.
---. Did the Ancient Egyptians Eat Biltong? Cambridge
Journal of Archaeology 5.2 (1995b): 283–9.
---. Meat Production. Ancient Egyptian Materials and
Technologies. Ed. P. Nicholson and I. Shaw. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2000. 656–71.
Lloyd, A. Herodotus: Book II Commentary. Vol. 1. Leiden:
Brill, 1976.
Lortet, L. and C. Gaillard. La Faune Momifiée de l'Ancienne
Egypte. Lyon: Musée d'Historie Naturelle, 1905–1909.
Lucas, A. Ancient Egyptian Materials and Industries.
London: E. Arnold, 1962.
de Morant, H. L'Alimentation Chez les Egyptiens. Arche-
ologia 61 (1973): 64–71.
Niven, C. F., Jr. and W. R. Shesbro. Meat Preservation:
Chemicals and Antibiotics. The Science of Meat and Meat
Products. Ed. American Meat Institute Foundation. New M
York: American Meat Institute Foundation, 1960.
Vandier, J. Quelques Remarques sur la Preparation de la
Boutargue. Kemi 17 (1964): 26–34.
Mechanical Technology
and Instruments of China
T ONG Q INGJUN , F ENG L ISHENG
China was among the earliest countries to develop
mechanical technologies, and its long history is full of
achievements in technology for mechanical engineering.
Archeological work since the twentieth century has
unearthed a large amount of prehistoric relics that
provide a wealth of information about the evolution
of technology for manufacturing tools and instruments
in antiquity.
Paleolithic artifacts were mainly made of stone and
wood, although sometimes bone was used. They were
mostly chipped stone vessels that were formed by
hammering and primary truing. Later, polished stone
vessels were shaped to serve as tools that could chop,
break, or scrape. Hammers, knife-edged tools, spheres,
spears, and arrowheads made of stone can also be seen
1444 Mechanical technology and instruments of China
from this period. Arrowheads were found in a late
Paleolithic site in Zhiyu, Shanxi province, that dates to
about 28,000 years ago (Fig. 1) (Du 1984: 6) and the
appearance of arrows themselves indicates that a
relatively high level of mechanical technology had
been attained. Also at the site are wooden sticks and
polished needles made of other materials.
Neolithic artifacts were mainly made by a polishing
technique that demanded selecting, cutting, polishing,
and boring the stones. Copperware also appeared at this
time. A sword and some fragments made of copper
were unearthed in the early layers of Majiayao,
Dongxiang, Gansu province, and date to 2575–2500
BCE according to carbon-14 analysis. Some scholars
consider the sword to be the earliest bronze in China
(Shen 1987: 919), but others have disagreed (An 1993).
Plenty of tools for production – including adzes, axes,
shovels, chisels, millstones, burnishers, pestles and
mortars, spinning wheels, plows, swords, and hoes –
have been found from this period, when the types
of tools increased considerably and had special uses
(Fig. 2). Also at this time, such complex machinery as
original textile machines and pottery wheels appeared.
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 1 A stone arrowhead unearthed in Shuo County, Shanxi
Province (from Hua 1997).
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 2 A tool to level soil, unearthed in Qiansanyang,
Wuxing, Zhejiang Province (from Du 1984).
From the late Neolithic to the Western Zhou Dynasty
(1046–771 BCE), animals and wind were used as
the main sources of energy, as attested to by chariots
and sails from these times. There is little evidence
to demonstrate a relationship between the chariots of
China and those of Western Asia, and although the
earliest appearance of chariots has been recorded
differently in the literature, we can conclude that two-
wheel wooden carriages were used as early as the
Shang Dynasty (ca. 1600 BCE, Fig. 3). Carriages of
this time commonly had two wheels, a rectangular or
square wagon box, a single thill (one of two shafts
extending from the body of a cart or carriage on either
side of the animal that pulls it), a crossbar, yokes at
either side of the crossbar, and leather straps for pulling
the cart. Cattle were used to cultivate the land, plows
were widely used, but the agricultural machines and
devices varied a lot. Booms, windlasses, and other such
composite machines also existed in antiquity.
Bronze tools and instruments began to be widely
used during the Shang Dynasty, and the techniques for
smelting metals and casting utensils were at their
highest even before the Western Zhou. Having begun
with small-sized implements that had single-side and
double-side patterns, the Shang eventually yielded
large implements with composite patterns around a
core, while advanced techniques such as separate
casting were widely used in the middle of the dynasty
and pottery patterns became more complex in its later
stages. The largest known bronze vessel is the Simuwu
Ding, which was unearthed in Wuguan village, Any-
ang, Henan province in March 1939. It weighs about
875 kg and embodies the high level of casting under the
Shang. Fig. 4 shows the large-scale bronze wine table
( jin) with a cloud design that was unearthed in Xichuan
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 3 A restored model of a chariot from the Shang Dynasty
(from Hua 1997).

Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China. Fig. 4 Bronze wine table unearthed in Xichuan County (see uji
▶www.chnmus.net).
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 5 A page from the Kaogong Ji (from Hua 1997).
county, Henan province in 1978 and is the earliest
known product cast according to the so-called “lost-
wax process” (shi la fa) (Hua 1986: 231–232).
Ironware has been in use since the Spring and Autumn
(Chunqiu) Period (771–476 BCE). The appearance and
development of techniques for ironware casting made it
possible to produce tools that were highly efficient.
Techniques such as founding, forging, and softening
that employed heat developed rapidly during this time,
when many kinds of machines and devices, especially
farm implements, were made from cast iron. In the
Warring States (Zhanguo) Period (475–221 BCE),
techniques for softening cast iron were developed.
The Kaogong Ji (Records of the Artificers, Fig. 5) is
the earliest literary work on the techniques used in the
handicraft industry in China. Most of it was compiled
in the late Spring and Autumn and the early Warring
States Periods, but some parts were added late in the
Warring States. It includes information about how to
manufacture carriages, weapons, sacrificial vessels,
bells, and chime stones, as well as about architecture,
Mechanical technology and instruments of China 1445
M
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 6 A Western Han bronze clepsydra (from Zhongguo
Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
hydraulics, dyeing, and techniques for other handicrafts
(Dai 2003). Such problems as the elasticity of bows,
rapidity of arrows, and stability of flight are also
addressed thoroughly.
Many instruments for astronomy originated in early
China. The gnomon, which utilizes directions and
lengths of the shadow of the sun to determine south and
north as well as the seasons, existed under the Shang
and Zhou. Water clocks which measured time by means
of the liquid were first developed in the Spring and
Autumn or the Warring States Period (Fig. 6). An intact
bronze clepsydra which was unearthed in Inner
Mongolia in 1976 has a year engraved on it that dates
it to the Western Han Dynasty (206 BCE–8 AD).
Instruments utilizing lodestones that pointed to the
geomagnetic poles were called si nan by the ancients
1446 Mechanical technology and instruments of China
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 7 A si nan (from Zhongguo Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 8 A solarium from the Han Dynasty (from Zhongguo
Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
(Jin 1999: 103). According to the reconstruction by
Wang Zhenduo in Fig. 7, a natural lodestone shaped
like a spoon was placed on a plate with the directions
labeled, and the handle of the spoon when stabilized
would point to the south. From the Qin or early Han
Dynasty, the solarium with a graduated circle to
indicate the time according to the position of the sun,
and based on the gnomon, became widely used (Fig. 8).
Furthermore, astronomical instruments such as armil-
lary spheres and celestial spheres designed according to
mechanical principles appeared in the Han Dynasty,
and according to the Tianwen Zhi (Records of
Astronomy) in the seventh-century Jin Shu (History
of the Jin Dynasty), the armillary sphere and celestial
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 9 Bronze chariots and horses, unearthed from Qin
Shihuang’s tomb (from Qin Shihuang Ling Tongchema
Fajue Baogao).
sphere made by Zhang Heng during the Eastern Han
Dynasty (25–220 AD) were of a fairly high level. The
celestial sphere was in a closed box, was driven by
water, and indicated the time that stars appeared and
disappeared according to astronomical observations.
Mechanical technology during the Qin and Han
Dynasties also progressed in other respects. The bronze
chariots, warriors, and horses unearthed from the tomb
of Qin Shihuang (r. 221–210 BCE) demonstrate a high
level of mechanical fabrication, and their scales were
one half of reality for the chariots and lifelike for the
horses (Fig. 9). Even such details as the wheels that
allow the chariots to move, the horse gear, and ropes
were molded in realistic shapes. These artifacts are
not only unrivalled throughout the world but also
outstanding examples of mechanical engineering under
the Qin. When hydraulic power came to be added
to wind and animals as a form of energy in the
Han Dynasty, water-driven machines and devices that
included such mechanical breakthroughs as gears,
cams, and toggle levers were created. Among the
machines and devices were the waterpower reciproca-
tor, hydraulic trip-hammer, south-pointing carriage,
incense burner, and Zhang’s armillary sphere and
seismograph, all of which reflected quite a high level in
mechanical engineering.
The earliest records related to bellows driven by
water power are in the Du Shi Zhuan (Biography of Du
Shi), in the fifth-century AD Hou Han Shu (History of
the Eastern Han Dynasty), which notes that a water-
power reciprocator (shui pai) had been invented, while
the San Guo Zhi (History of the Three Kingdoms)
records that Han Ji made shui pai. Besides an
explanation of the structure of a shui pai, the Nong
Shu (Book on Farming) by Wang Zhen includes
illustrations to show the structure and how it operated.
A shui pai (Fig. 10) included two horizontal wheels
that were connected by a shaft, and when the lower
wheel was driven by flowing water, the upper wheel
rotated and, via a driving-belt, moved a pulley that was
set with an eccentric lug or crank to move a connecting
rod. This rod pushed two levers back and forth to make

Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 10 Model of a south-pointing carriage (from Zhongguo
Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Animation 1. A shui pai.
a piston rod move. The effect was that the rotation of
the lower horizontal wheel was linked to the recipro-
cating motion of the piston rod (Animation 1).
The south-pointing carriage (zhi nan che or si nan
che) was said to have been invented by Huang Di – the
Yellow Emperor – or Zhou Gong. In the San Guo Zhi, a
person called Ma Jun from the state of Wei (220–265
AD) is noted as having manufactured a south-pointing
carriage, while Zu Chongzhi, Yan Su, and Wu Deren
are known to have made such a carriage later. Only for
that by Yan, however, are there extant, detailed records
about the shape and inner structure (Fig. 10).
The south-pointing carriage by Yan was driven by
four horses and had two wheels and a rectangular
wagon box. Inside was a gear linkage system that had
nine gears in all, five serving as a transmission. In the
box and connected with the other gears was a big
horizontal gear, at the center of which stood a pole with
a wooden person on top. Whenever the carriage moved,
the hand of the person always pointed to the south,
mechanically made possible by the automatic clutch
system for the gears.
Mechanical technology and instruments of China 1447
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 11 Model of a li-recording drum carriage (from
Zhongguo Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
Fig. 11 shows a drum carriage that recorded li (a
distance of about half a kilometer) and was refitted
from a drum carriage dating to the Han Dynasty.
Mechanisms such as the decelerating drive gears and
cam-and-lever devices were installed inside. As the
carriage moved one li, the cam and a cord caused a
wooden person to beat the drum with its right hand.
The Yu Fu Zhi (Records of Carriages and Dresses) in M
the Nan Qi Shu (History of the Qi Dynasty) has a record
of the li-recording drum carriage, the Kui Tan Lu
(Records Ashamed of Tan) by Yue Ke of the Southern
Song Dynasty (1127–1279 AD) records and explains
how the gears worked, and the Yu Fu Zhi in the Song
Shi (History of the Song Dynasty) has details about the
devices and how motion was generated.
Zhang Heng is noted in the Hou Han Shu as having
invented the machine known as “Chang’s seismo-
graph.” According to the restoration by Wang Zhenduo,
its inside structures include a pole, with a thick upper
part and a thin lower part in the center, and eight curved
levers around. The upper part of each lever is connected
to the upper jaw of a dragon, whose lower jaw holds a
brass ball. When the earth shakes, the pole falls down
in the direction of the earthquake and presses the lower
part of the corresponding curved lever, causing the
upper jaw of the dragon to open and the ball in its
mouth to drop down to a toad’s mouth that is facing it.
This makes it possible to recognize the direction from
which the earthquake came (Animation 2).
Agricultural machines and implements developed
rapidly during the Han Dynasty. The three-legged seed
plow and the fan wheel (Fig. 12), which was a highly
efficient processor of grain, were other noteworthy
inventions. Other grain processing machines such as
mills and trip-hammers not only appeared but also were
1448 Mechanical technology and instruments of China
improved. Mills with transmission gears and pestles
driven by waterpower appeared during the Eastern Han
Dynasty, and moldboards appeared under the Western
Han, when the design of the plow was finalized. Hand
reeling machines, looms, jacquards, and other impor-
tant machines were also invented, while techniques for
building ships during this period were highly devel-
oped. Such components of ships as sculls, helms, and
sails became well established, and large ships with
upper decks as well as warships were easily made at the
time of the Han.
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Animation 2. Chang’s seismograph (from Zhonghua
Keji Wu Qian Nian).
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 12 A fan wheel (from Tiangong Kaiwu).
In this period, many kinds of machines and devices
used natural rather than artificial power, and their
operation changed from direct to indirect means.
Transmissions of power and movement were com-
pleted by the machines and devices themselves, while
the control of the machines by humans became indirect.
Machines and devices such as the shui pai, pestles, and
the ma pai (horse-powered reciprocator) were provided
with three basic composite elements – prime motors,
actuating mechanisms, and operating mechanisms –
and their appearance demonstrates that the mechanical
system had reached a high level of development. From
the subsequent Three Kingdoms Period (220–280 AD)
until the Yuan Dynasty (1206–1367 AD), the overall
technical level of traditional machines and devices
progressed considerably.
From the Three Kingdoms Period into the Sui
(581–618 AD) and Tang Dynasties (618–907 AD),
the techniques were substantially developed. Forged
implements became dominant among the tools for
farming, and as founding techniques developed, large-
scale casts appeared. Progress was made in hydraulic
machines, while the Jin Dynasty (265–420 AD) saw
the appearance of automatic mill wheels (mo che),
pestle-wheels (chong che), and water mills (shui nian).
The water-lift chain-pumps (fan che) invented during
the Eastern Han Dynasty were improved and popular-
ized. Tools for irrigation such as a “noria for high lifts”
(gao zhuan tong che; Fig. 13) were also invented, while
the structure of the plow was improved under the Tang,
and movable plow pan devices appeared. Shipbuilding
techniques developed further, and paddleboats were
invented.
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 13 A gao zhuan tong che (from Nong Shu).
 Mechanical technology and instruments of China 1449

Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China. Fig. 14 The “Qi Guo Feng Qiehushi Tu”(Illustration of the official who
lifts the water clock according to the Balladry of Qi) in Liu Jing Tu.

Moreover, developments could also be seen in

astronomical instruments. The Tian Wen Zhi in the M
eleventh-century Xin Tang Shu (New History of the
Tang Dynasty) has detailed records about such an
instrument designed by the monk Yi Xing and Liang
Lingzan in the thirteenth year of Kaiyuan (725 AD). It
had two wheel rings to represent the sun and the moon
as well as a celestial sphere that was driven by
waterpower. Two puppets inside marked the time by
beating its drum and striking its bell. Earlier in the Tang
Dynasty, Lü Cai (ca. 600–650 AD) had improved the
water clock by adding several compensating clepsydras
above the main clepsydra to make the time more
accurate. Thereafter, Yan Su of the Northern Song
Dynasty (960–1127 AD) created a lotus clepsydra
(lianhua lou) which was widely used at that time. Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 15 Incense burner (from Hua 1997).
Fig. 14 shows the style of these water clocks as
presented in an illustration in the Liu Jing Tu
(Illustrations to the Six Classics) by Yang Jia and
printed in 1153. Dynasty by Ge Hong (284–364 AD). There were two or
Incense burners made of silver or gold have been three concentric rings between the outer shell and the
found in several tombs from the Tang Dynasty (Fig. 15). hemispherical body for burning the incense in the center.
Among them are the elaborately constructed, elegantly This hemispherical body had minor axles at both ends of
encased ones unearthed at Shapo village, Xi’an in 1963 its diameter so that, supported by the two radial holes of
and from the Famen Temple in Shaanxi province in the inner ring, it was capable of moving freely. The inner
1987. Incense burners were first recorded in the Mei ring was supported by the outer ring, which itself was
Ren Fu (Ode to Beauty) of the Western Han Dynasty supported in the same way by the inner wall of the outer
by Sima Xiangru (179–117 BCE) and the Xi Jing shell. The supporting axles for the body of the burner,
Za Ji (Miscellanies of the Western Capital) of the Jin the inner ring, and the outer ring were perpendicular to
1450 Mechanical technology and instruments of China

each other, and because of the force of gravity, the burner

remained horizontal at all times regardless of how the
shell rotated.
During the Song and Yuan Dynasties the develop-
ment of traditional machines and devices in China
peaked, and a great deal of progress was particularly
made in those for agriculture. The plow colter (the
cutting arm of a plow) appeared under the Song, and
new farm implements like cramp irons (tie da) and hoof
plows (ta li) were widely used while many kinds of
hydraulic machines became more widely used. Among
the monographs on agricultural machines that were
published, the nonextant Nong Qi Pu (Book of Faming
Implements) by Zeng Zhijin of the Song Dynasty
discussed various kinds of farming implements. The
Nong Qi Tu Pu (Illustrations of Faming Implements) in
the Nong Shu, by Wang Zhen during the Yuan Dynasty,
introduced and explained contemporary agricultural Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Fig. 16 A floating magnetic needle (from Zhongguo
machines and many tools for production, making the
Gudai Keji Wenwu Zhan).
work a base for later research and records. Weaving
machines had also been developed, while the spinning
wheels driven by waterpower, foot-powered wheels
for spinning cotton, and other machines in the Nong
Shu reflected the high level of such contemporary
machinery.
Techniques for manufacturing weapons developed
rapidly and included new weaponry such as tubular
firearms and jet-fire arrows. While shipbuilding became
more sophisticated, breakthroughs were made in instru-
ments for astronomy to bring their traditional develop-
ment in China to a peak. Among the different kinds
that appeared were lotus clepsydras, Taiping armillary
spheres (tai ping hun yi), “pseudo astronomical instru-
ments”( jia tian yi), a water-driven astronomical clock
tower, and “simplified instruments” ( jian yi). Among Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
the other important inventions at the time, typography, a Fig. 17 An ivory water compass dating to the Qing
two-way ram-acting air box, and cold-forging and cold- Dynasty (from Jin 1999).
drawing techniques should be noted.
The magnetic needle was an instrument made by
utilizing the property of lodestones to point to the The water-driven astronomical clock tower in
geomagnetic poles. Early needles were simply made Animation 3 was the earliest astronomical clock in
with natural lodestones and were improvements on the the world. Having included an armillary sphere,
si nan. In the Wu Jing Zong Yao (General Military celestial sphere, and water clock, and being the work
Principles), compiled by Zeng Gongliang in the early of Su Song in the seventh year of Yuanyou (1092), it
Northern Song Dynasty, is a record of how to construct was a square platform-like wood construction that
a south-pointing fish that was precise whenever it was measured about 12 m in height and 7 m in width. Its
placed on a surface of water. The manual method of upper part was narrower than the lower part, and it had
rubbing lodestones to magnetize steel needles was upper, middle, and lower layers. At the top was the
developed during the Northern Song Dynasty, when coppery armillary sphere that illustrated observed
carved wooden south-pointing fish or tortoises with celestial bodies, in the middle was the celestial sphere
magnetized needles in their stomachs became rather which marked about 1,400 stars and was used mainly
popular. The dry land compass with a fixed point of as a planetarium, and at the bottom was the mechanism
support was invented in the Southern Song Dynasty, for indicating time. The machine was driven by a gear
but water compasses which made use of buoyancy system which was assisted by chain drives (or a high
remained in general use (Figs. 16 and 17). ladder) and levers. “Celestial balances” (tian heng) and
 Mechanical technology and instruments of China 1451

Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.

Fig. 18 A page from Su Song’s Xin Yixiang Fayao.

Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.

Animation 3. Su Song’s astronomical clock tower
(from Zhonghua Keji Wu Qian Nian).

driving wheel (shu lun) comprised the coordinated

escapement, which as a whole is regarded as a
remarkable invention in mechanical history.
The driving wheel was the principal component of
the clock tower, with 36 water boxes (shou shui hu)
M
along the circumference. When the water in the box
reached a certain weight, a series of control systems
would be triggered, causing the driving wheel to rotate
intermittently. The rotation was transmitted to the
“celestial pole” (tian zhu) by the “terrestrial hub”
(di gu), and then to the operating mechanisms by a
drive system.
There was an escapement mechanism designed to
keep the driving wheel rotating isochronally.
The astronomical clock tower was destroyed in the Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
war between the Northern Song and the Jin in 1127. Fig. 19 A box-bellows.
Fortunately, Su wrote the book Xin Yixiang Fayao
(New Design for an Astronomical Clock, Fig. 18) after
the instrument was completed in the early years of valve inside the tube could connect either part of the
Shaosheng (ca. 1094–96 AD). Because it is the most tube with the flow mouth freely, as illustrated below.
detailed extant monograph on astronomical instruments The two free valves (E, F) at both ends of the box could
and has illustrations of the clock tower as a whole as only open inward, making the outer air flow into the
well as of its components, spare parts, and star images, box when the handle of the piston-board was pushed
it has been possible to recreate the astronomical clock. forward. Since the air behind the piston-board is of
The air-blast apparatus was first a leather bellows, lower pressure, the air outside presses valve E inward
then a ma pai and a shui pai, and finally an box-bellows and flows into the box. At the same time, the air in front
with piston. As shown in Fig. 19, the piston-bellows of the board is of higher pressure, so valve F gets
was made of wood and had a blowing piston-board (B) closed. The air before the board therefore flows into the
in the middle and a square tube at the lower left. Two tube and pushes the valve to move backward, causing
holes (M, N) were connected to the box, with a flow the air to flow into the smelting furnace through G.
mouth (G) pointing outward in the middle. The free As the handle moves forward and backward, the
1452 Medical ethics
Mechanical Technology and Instruments of China.
Animation 4. How the box-bellows works.
higher-pressure air flows almost continuously and
keeps the fire burning. Animation 4 shows how the
box-bellows works.
The machines and devices of this period not only
reached a high technical level, but they were also varied
and many resulted from especially creative talent.
Among their many makers were Ma Jun, Zu Chongzhi,
Li Gao, Zhang Sixun, Yan Su, Su Song, Guo Shoujing,
and Wang Zhen, and many Chinese machines and
devices spread to other countries.
From the late Yuan Dynasty into the Qing (1616–
1911 AD), there were a few developments in traditional
machines and technology. Still, there were fewer great
inventions in this period, although traditional mechani-
cal technologies were still progressing. Cold-forging
and cold-drawing techniques were improved during the
Ming Dynasty (1368–1644 AD). The Tiangong Kaiwu
(Exploitation of the Works of Nature) by Xu Guangqi
records the cold-forging technique for making saws and
the cold-drawing technique for making steel needles,
while the many kinds of wrought products that existed
demonstrate the development of forging techniques.
In the Ming Dynasty there was one called “cold
quenching,” which suggests that the understanding
of quenching had advanced. Weapon-making techni-
ques improved quickly as many kinds of weapons
appeared and monographs on weapons such as the
Huolong Jing (Book of Fire Dragon) and Huolong
Shenqi Zhenfa (Array of Magic Instruments of Fire
Dragon) were published, while shipbuilding continued
to develop as China became a powerful maritime
country. Furthermore, it was during this time that the
hourglass, an important marker of time, was invented.
Toward the end of the Ming and into the Qing
Dynasty, missionaries from the West brought Western
science and technology to China. Machines and devices
were also imported, and translations of works on
machinery such as the Yuanxi Qiqi Tushuo Luzui
(Illustrated Books of Western Magic Instruments) were
published. From early in the eighteenth century to the
1840s, however, the Qing government opted for a policy
of seclusion and broke communications with the
Western world. The development of machinery in China
then stagnated, and there were no notable inventions for
more than a hundred years. Because it was at that time
that the Industrial Revolution took place in the West,
mechanical science and technology developed there
rapidly and took the West far beyond the level of
Chinese technology.
References
An, Zhimin. Shi Lun Zhongguo de Tongqi (On Chinese
Bronze). Kaogu 12 (1993): 1110–9.
Dai,Wusan. Kaogong Ji Tushuo (Illustrated Explanations of
Records of the Artificers). Jinan: Shandong Pictorial Press,
2003.
Du, Shiran, et al. Zhongguo Kexue Jishu Shigao (Draft on the
History of Chinese Science and Technology). Beijing:
Science Press, 1984.
Editorial Committee of ZGKWZ. Zhongguo Gudai Keji
Wenwu Zhan (Exhibition of Ancient Chinese Relics).
Beijing: Zhaohua Press, 1997.
Hua, Jueming, et al. Zhonghua Keji Wu Qian Nian (5,000
Years of Chinese Science and Technology). Jinan:
Shangdong Education Press, 1997.
Jin, Qiupeng. Tu Shuo Zhongguo Gudai Keji (Illustrated
Explanations of Ancient Chinese Science and Technology).
Zhengzhou: Daxiang Press, 1999.
Liu, Xianzhou. Zhongguo Jixie Gongcheng Faming Shi
(History of Inventions of Chinese Mechanical Engineer-
ing). Beijing: Science Press, 1962.
Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965.
Shen, Hong. Zhongguo Da Baikequanshu (Encyclopedia of
China). Vol. Jixie Gongcheng (Mechanical Engineering).
Beijing:Encyclopedia of China Publishing House, 1987.
Yan, Qing, et al. An Analysis of Typical Structure of the
Bronze Chariots and Horses Unearthed from Qinshi-
huang’s Tomb. Xi Bei Nong Ye Da Xue Xue Bao. 23
(1995): 11–19
Zhou, Hanguang and Wang Yiliang. Faming de Guodu:
Zhongguo Keji Shi (A Country of Inventions: History
of Chinese Science and Technology). Shanghai: ECNU
Press, 2001.
Medical Ethics
R OBERT M. V EATCH
The medical ethics of non-Western cultures are
not as cleanly differentiated from the rest of their
religious and cultural value systems as they are in the
West. There the traditional medical ethic of organized
professional medicine is summarized in the Hippocratic
Oath and the tradition surrounding it. This ethic that
guides health care professionals is often in conflict
with religious and philosophical traditions that provide
more general ethical frameworks. By contrast, in non-
Western cultures, medical ethical questions are often
addressed in the core ethics literature of the group, such
as religious texts and philosophical writings.

The ancient cultures of Asia provide an example.
Generally, they turn to classical texts for their medical
ethical insights.
China
Although Chinese medicine has a history of at least
2,000 years, the first explicit medical ethical writing
is usually attributed to Sun Simiao (also called
Sun Simo, ca. AD 581–682). His “On the Absolute
Sincerity of Great Physicians,” which is part of the
massive Qianjin Yao Fang (Important Prescriptions
Worth a Thousand Pieces of Gold, or the Thousand
Golden Remedies), is sometimes referred to as the
Chinese Hippocratic Oath. Sun Simo, who is primarily
associated with Daoist thought, but who also reflects
Buddhist influences, is credited with differentiating
medicine from more general social practices by demar-
cating a core group of “Great Physicians.” This core
group is held out as the normative ideal. The emergence
of this concept of the great physician is thought to be the
beginning of the professionalization of medicine.
Great Physicians practice the virtues of compassion
and humaneness. They are committed to preserving
life, a traditional Daoist moral orientation. In a manner
typical of ancient Chinese medical ethical writings, but
normally omitted from the Greek Hippocratic tradition,
Sun Simo says that the Great Physician “should not pay
attention to status, wealth, age, neither should he
question whether the particular person is attractive or
unattractive, whether he is an enemy or a friend, whether
he is Chinese or a foreigner, or finally, whether his is
uneducated or educated. He should meet everyone on
equal ground” (Unschuld 1979). Paul Unschuld argues
that this professionalization of the practice of medicine
begins the effort to control the practice of medicine and
its material and nonmaterial rewards.
About 150 years later, Lu Zhi (AD 754–805)
provided a Confucian response in his Luxuan Gonglun.
It also emphasizes the virtues of humaneness and
compassion, but, according to Unschuld’s interpretation,
the classical Confucian perspective resisted the profes-
sionalization of medicine, holding that medical skills and
knowledge should be distributed among all people, not
just specialized professionals. The theme of the duty to
treat all in medical need, regardless of status and concern
over elitist professionalization, occurs throughout ancient
Chinese medical ethics. In the seventeenth century Li
Ting (fl. AD 1615) wrote his often cited Ten Maxims for
Physicians; Ten Maxims for Patients, which repeats these
themes, beginning with the necessity of mastering
Confucian teachings. While the Daoist and Buddhist
strands of Chinese thought have reflected strong prohibi-
tions on killing, generally including condemning of
abortion and insisting on prolongation of life, Confucian
views have been more tolerant of such practices.
Medical ethics 1453
India
India, like China, incorporated its medical ethical
teachings within its classical philosophical/religious
literature. Among the Vedic texts, the Āyurveda, initially
developed beginning in the first millennium BCE,
contains the most important medical writings. Three
such texts, the Carakasam . hitā, the Suśrutasam. hitā, and
the Vāgbhata, include medical ethical writings. The first
two also include oaths of initiation taken by students of
medicine when they began their training.
The oldest, the Carakasam . hitā, dates from the first
century AD, but contains older material. Like the
Hippocratic Oath, it requires the student to pledge
loyalty to his teacher, to “dedicate thyself to me and
regard me as thy chief.” Reflecting Hindu reverence for
animal species, it requires praying for the welfare of all
creatures beginning with cows and Brahmanas, a large
domestic fowl. In an unusual provision, though one
understandable given the Hindu doctrine of karma, in
which a person’s conduct during the successive phases
of his existence determines his destiny, the student
pledges not to treat those “who are hated by the King
or who are haters of the King,” or those “who are
extremely abnormal, wicked, and of miserable charac-
ter and conduct.” It also proscribes treating “those who
are at the point of death.” In spite of this reluctance to
treat those who are dying, Hindu medical ethics stresses
the importance of the proscription against killing.
The Hindu notion of ahim
M
. sā, the avoidance of
suffering, is another central theme in Hindu medical
ethics. It is sometimes interpreted as requiring caution
in order to avoid injuring, a concern often reflected in
Western medical ethics with its slogan primum non
nocere, first of all do no harm.
Buddhist Culture
Some of these notions are also reflected in the Buddhist
medical ethic of various Asian countries. The prohibi-
tion on killing, the concern about ahim . sā and a
commitment to veracity all contribute to the Buddhist
tradition of medical ethics. These commitments are
often in tension both with indigenous pre-Buddhist
religious traditions (Confucianism and Daoism in
China, Hinduism in India, and Shintoism in Japan) as
well as with modern Western culture. Ratanakul (1988),
commenting on the penetration of traditional Thai
Buddhism by Western individualism, traces conflicts
over four central themes of Buddhist medical ethics:
veracity, noninjury to life, justice, and compassion.
Hippocratic Western medical ethics has never mani-
fested commitments to any of these until recent efforts
have begun reflecting them at least in a modest way.
In Japan, Buddhist thought has provided the founda-
tions for medical ethical thought. For example, in the
sixteenth century a school of medicine, commonly
1454 Medical ethics
known as the Ri-shu school, manifested classical
Buddhist commitments. Students in this school were
bound by The 17 Rules of Enjuin. Killing of any creature
was proscribed. Even hunting and fishing were not
acceptable. In contrast to the Hindu Carakasam . hitā, the
duty to rescue was extended even to those whom the
physician disliked or hated. But virtuous acts were to be
performed secretly so that they did not become known to
people. Doing good deeds secretly was considered a part
of virtue. In a fashion similar to the Hippocratic Oath,
students were sworn to secrecy, being prohibited from
disclosing any medical knowledge to outsiders. Unless a
successor trained in this school was found, those of the
Ri-shu school were even required to return all medical
books to the school when a disciple ceased to practice.
In Japan, Buddhist medical ethics has survived in an
uneasy tension with both modern Western thought and
indigenous beliefs known as kami no michi (the way
of Kami), or Shinto, according to the Chinese. For
example, while killing is clearly condemned according
to Buddhism, suicide and mercy killing receive more
sympathetic assessment both by some proponents of
the patients’ rights movement imported from the West
and by those reflecting traditional Shinto openness to
jyoshi (love suicide) and shinjyu (group suicide). It is
these latter influences that undoubtedly account for
what could be called mercy killing in Japan.
The traditional influence is also seen in the resistance
of Japan to the Western brain-oriented definitions of
death. Japan is the only country that has not adopted
such a legal definition. It is argued that the traditional
Japanese notion of a life force penetrating the entire
body clashes with Western notions of life related to
brain or mental function.
The Near East
Near Eastern cultures have perspectives on medical
ethics that date back at least to the second millennium
BCE. Zoroastrianism of ancient Persia saw the physi-
cian as a force for good in the struggle between good and
evil. It is suggested that this provides a foundation for a
medical ethic that would oppose euthanasia. In both
Assyria–Babylonia and in Egypt, suicide was proscribed.
There are records of abortifacient remedies in ancient
Egypt, but there is doubt concerning abortion’s legality. It
was, however, by the middle of the second century BCE
prohibited by Assyrian law as it was in Persia.
The Babylonian Code of Hammurabi (1727 BCE?)
provided stiff penalties for incompetent surgery. The
surgeon’s hand was to be severed if surgery was
performed on a nobleman that resulted in death or loss
of an eye. If death was caused by a medical procedure
on a slave, the physician was obliged to replace the
slave. This “sliding-scale” punishment was matched
with a similar sliding-scale fee structure in both
Assyro-Babylon and Persia. The higher the status of
the patient, the higher the fee.
In Islam, medical ethics is grounded in the Qur˒ān. A
ninth century work, Adab al-tabib (Practical Ethics
of the Physician, by al-Ruhawi) reflects the Islamic
synthesis of Hippocratic, Greek, and Arabic medicine.
In the thirteenth century an Arabic version of the
Hippocratic Oath is found in Lives of Physicians
written by Ibn Abī Us.aybi˒ah. Nevertheless, the core of
Islamic medical ethics is explicitly grounded in the
Qur˒ān and its central teaching, “There is no god but
Allah, and Muhammad is Allah’s Apostle.” This has
sometimes given rise to a kind of fatalism in Islamic folk
medical ethics. It is sometimes reported that Muslims
oppose medical manipulations such as birth control for
this reason. But a sophisticated ethical framework in
Islamic medical ethics includes a rigorous commitment
to the preservation of life, and opposition to all killing
including killing for mercy and abortion.
Whoever killeth a human being for other than
manslaughter or corruption in the earth, it shall be
as if he had killed all mankind, and whoso saveth
the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life
of all mankind (Qur˒ān 5:22).
Islamic medicine, in contrast to Western Hippocratic
medicine, is thoroughly theocentric.
This is reflected even in contemporary Islamic
medical ethics. In January of 1981 Muslim scholars
from throughout the world gathered in Kuwait at the
First International Conference on Islamic Medicine.
They produced the “Kuwait Document,” a now-
definitive Islamic Code of Medical Ethics. It contains
12 chapters outlining in detail Islamic positions
supported by reference to the Qur˒ān, culminating in
“The Oath of the Doctor”, a summary of the code.
Among the prominent characteristics are a pledge to
“protect human life in all stages and under all
circumstances, doing my utmost to rescue it from
death, malady, pain and anxiety.” It also includes an
exceptionless pledge of confidentiality that stands in
contrast to the Hippocratic provision, which implies
that some information ought to be disclosed to others.
It also embodies a commitment to provide medical
care for all, “near and far, virtuous and sinner and friend
and enemy.” Other chapters include an explicit recogni-
tion of the duty of the Islamic physician to society
(a contrast to the exclusive focus on the individual
in traditional Hippocratic medical ethics), further
expounding on the sanctity of human life (including
prohibitions on all abortion and mercy killing), and a
full endorsement of the legitimacy of Islamic involve-
ment in new biotechnological advances including
organ transplantation. This last provision contrasts
with the folk ethic that sometimes reflects a kind of
fatalistic yielding to the power of Allah.

African Societies
Many African cultures have taken positions on matters
related to medical ethics. Unfortunately, with the
exception of ancient Egyptian views, relatively little
is known about their specific medical ethical stances. In
some sub-Saharan African tribal groups understandings
of moral conduct related to life and death are closely
tied to the religious culture (Wiredu). Since the cultures
and languages are so diverse, it would be a mistake to
assume that all African societies hold the same medical
ethical views. Nevertheless some common patterns are
reported. Although euthanasia is not widely discussed,
it was and is reportedly practiced by family relatives for
incurable and distressful mental illness and severe
congenital malformations in many African societies.
Likewise, abortion, though viewed with moral skepti-
cism, appears to be practiced as it is elsewhere in the
world.
Pre-Columbian Western Hemisphere
Among the most poorly understood medical ethical
systems are those of the pre-Columbian Western
hemisphere. There has never been any formal analysis
of the medical ethics of the great Inca, Aztec, or Maya
cultures or of the Native American tribal groups of North
America. Most of what is known pertains to views about
abortion, suicide, human sacrifice, and related practices.
The Incas viewed children as an asset, and, while
abortion was known (by means of fetal massage,
beatings, and special drugs), it was punished by
execution of both the woman who aborted and those
who aided her. Nevertheless among the Inca human
sacrifice was practiced. Male children could be
demanded for sacrifice, although the practice was
apparently rare. Sacrifice of one’s young children was
reportedly a last resort to attempt to win the favor of the
spirits. The yearly sacrifice of two infants was a part of
the ritual of the most important temple. In contrast to
Greek and modern infanticide, Inca sacrifices had to be
of children without blemish.
Human sacrifice was also practiced by the Mayas,
either by “heart-rending” or by throwing the one to be
sacrificed into a cenote or large sink hole. The Mayas
also offered sacrifices of their own blood by piercing
their cheeks, tongues, or lower lips. The blood was
considered to express “vital principles”. Suicides were
held by the Mayas to be sacred, deserving of their own
special heaven. Human sacrifice was more common
among the Aztec as it was in the society of the Caribs.
By contrast in these pre-Columbian cultures, there are
few reports of killings of either infants or adults for the
purpose of euthanasia or the sparing of the afflicted.
The close integration of religion, magic, and medicine
in these cultures makes the differentiation of a uniquely
medical ethic implausible.
Medical ethics 1455
Inca doctor–sorcerers, called the camasca, or son-
coyoc, are said to have employed deception in their
practice of medicine. They earned entrance into the
profession by telling stories of vivid dreams or
miraculous recoveries from fatal diseases. Once they
had obtained the status of camasca or soncoyoc,
they staged dramatic procedures. One example is
surgery in which the doctor would claim that he had
removed worms and stones – the supposed causes of
disease – from the patient’s body, when in actuality, he
had recovered said items from no other place than his
own pocket, using sleight of hand to make it seem as
though they were being extracted from the body. In
addition, the Inca physicians would create mixtures of
herbs that they claimed to be deadly, in order to generate
fear – and revenue – from their clientele. Despite all of
this activity, to kill with magic charms was considered a
serious crime. Like healers in many cultures, the
practitioners were very exclusive about the practice of
medicine, claiming that only they, the chosen ones,
could practice it properly. Another source says that in
some tribes, as in ancient China, herb healers were
family based, and all professional information as to the
nature of different herbs was kept as a family secret.
Medical ethical stances are derived from more
general systems of ethics and belief. It is not surprising
then to find that there are as many medical ethical
systems as there are systems of ethical thought. To say
that behavior in the medical sphere is ethical is, after
M
all, simply saying that the behavior is ethical – at least
according to some standard of ethics. Even those
practicing medicine within Western culture will inevi-
tably encounter patients who come from other cultures
whose medical ethical values and beliefs may be quite
different. Only by knowing the range of medical ethical
systems will one’s own positions be brought into focus.
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Ethics with Special Reference to Moalejat-e-Buqratiya.
Bulletin of the Indian Institute of History of Medicine 29.1
(1999): 15–27.
Carrick, Paul. Medical Ethics in the Ancient World.
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Cobo, Bernabe. Inca Religion and Customs. Trans. and Ed.
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Desai, Prakash. Medical Ethics in India. Journal of Medicine
and Philosophy 13 (1988): 231–55.
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Döring, Ole and Renbiao Chen. Advances in Chinese Medical
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von Hagen, Victor Wolfgang. The Ancient Sun Kingdoms of
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Hameed, Abdul. Medical Ethics in Medieval Islam. Studies in
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Medical Ethics in China
A NGELA K I C HE L EUNG
For most pre-modern civilizations with a certain
degree of cultural sophistication, medical ethics were
strikingly similar: hard work and concern for the poor
and needy. A good doctor not only excelled in his
medical skills, but also cared for the sick and poor.
Material benefits should not be his major pursuit. In
the West, such tenets naturally conformed to Christian
morality; in China, Confucianism, Buddhism, and
Daoism mostly contributed to the formulation of such
ethics.
Despite the universality of these basic ethical
requirements, there were specific features in the
historical development of Chinese medical ethics
which can be said to have gone through several stages
of formation: the mythical period of Antiquity (ca. 771
BCE–AD 265); the period of Buddhist and Daoist
influences of the early medieval era (265–960); the
period of medical professional maturity of the late
medieval era (960–1368); and lastly the late imperial
period of Confucian influence (1368–1911).
In the period of Antiquity some of the basic tenets of
medical ethics were put forward. From some of the
earliest records of Chinese oracle bone writings and
other texts, we know that medicine was then mixed
with divination and magic. The shaman/doctor had a
relatively high social position and a respectable one
should, according to opinion of the time, have the
quality of perseverance or stability (heng).
With the gradual emergence of professional doctors
around the sixth century BCE, clearer notions of medical
ethics appeared. In the Huangdi Neijing (Yellow
Emperor's Inner Canon) attributed to the mythical
Yellow Emperor, the basic medical classic compiled
throughout a period of not less than 400 years beginning
in the Warring States period (475 BCE–221 BCE),
qualities such as erudition, rich experience, wisdom,
humility, and hard work were evoked as necessary for a
good doctor. Renowned doctors of this period were
reputed to have most or all of such qualities.
Another major quality said of the early doctors was
their concern for the poor and lowly. They did not only
cure the wealthy and the powerful, and profit was never
their major pursuit.
Prominent doctors of this period, such as Bian Que
(fifth century BCE), Chunyu Yi (b. 205 BCE), Zhang
Zhongjing (second to third centuries AD), and Hua Tuo
(d. ca. 208), were later to be venerated as deities of
the medical profession, and symbolized the very virtues
of good doctors. The deification of these doctors,
especially Hua Tuo, was based not only on their
exceptional medical skills, but also on their outstanding
and legendary morality.
In the Early Medieval period, Buddhism and Daoism
had a marked influence of, not only on medicine itself,
but also on medical ethics. For many modern historians
of Chinese medicine, true medical ethics were not
systematically composed in China until the seventh
century, when one of China's greatest doctors Sun
Simiao (also called Sun Simo, 581–682) wrote
systematically on the duties of a physician in his book
Qianjin Bao Yao (The Thousand Golden Remedies). In
this work Sun not only reiterated the qualities already
mentioned for model doctors of Antiquity, but also
emphasized the importance of retribution as a safe-
guard for good virtues: “Lao Zi, the father of Daoism,
said, ‘Open acts of kindness will be rewarded by man
while secret acts of evil will be punished by God.’
Retribution is very definite. A physician should not
utilize his profession as a means for lusting. What he
does to relieve distress will be duly rewarded by

Providence.” The notion of retribution, though here
thought to be essentially Daoist, was in fact much
influenced by Buddhism in this period.
The medical ethics put forward by Sun Simiao
reflected other aspects of Buddhist–Daoist influences:
to attend to all patients equally, disregarding their social
and economic position, their age, and their physical
appearances. Enemies and friends, foreigners and
Chinese, the stupid and the wise should all be treated
alike. All these categories should be considered as one
single, general class by the doctor. This “equality”
before medical care was something unfamiliar to
Confucian morality but which has remained significant
in medical ethics since the seventh century.
In the Late Medieval period, Chinese medicine
reached maturity, both as an institution and a clinical
art. The formal division of medicine into different
branches or specialties (notably fuke, the branch of
medicine specializing in women's diseases; erke, in
children's diseases; and waike, in bone fractures and
operations) implied a finer division of labor amongst
physicians, and this was also reflected in a more
elaborate and systematic training program for officially
approved doctors in this period, and increased state
intervention in the management of medical resources.
Though some scholars think that in this period medicine
was “a respectable field of study…but as a career and
mode of life was highly controversial,” one can still see
the emergence of a certain medical professionalism, and
with it, new elements in medical ethics.
One such element was the frequent caution against
yongyi (common practitioners). The term was frequently
evoked in Song medical texts. A yongyi is the antithesis
of a liangyi (fine doctor), comparable to a liangxiang
(fine minister). This comparison was first put forward by
the famous Song minister Fan Zhongyan (989–1052),
who had once considered becoming a doctor himself.
The medical profession in the Song period took greater
pains than before to draw lines between good and bad
doctors, reflecting the emerging professional conscious-
ness of doctors of the period.
However, the reputation of a fine doctor was not
entirely based on his curing skills. A fine doctor now
combined the religious selflessness and charity of the
early Medieval period, as well as neo-Confucian ethics.
One of the greatest fuke specialists of the Song, Chen
Ziming (1109–1270), wrote that he came from a family
of three generations of doctors, with an excellent
private library of medical books. But his appetite for
prescriptions and medical texts was so large that
whenever he traveled in the southeast, he collected
large quantities of texts which he studied in his free
time. Obviously, a good doctor was now likened to a
good Confucian scholar, for whom family tradition and
textual learning were considered essential for profes-
sional success.
Medical ethics in China 1457
The increasing influence of Confucian morality on
medical ethics was yet to be seen in the late imperial
period. This was a period of relative political continuity
and economic prosperity, accompanied by a significant
growth in medical knowledge. However, this period
was not one of institutional renovation and regulation
in medicine. Consequently medical professionalism, in
the sense of the maturation of a completely independent
professional category, might have suffered. As Un-
schuld (1979) has said, “The Chinese physician as a
definable entity did not exist.” The respectability of a
physician was, besides his curing technique, increas-
ingly linked to Confucian morality.
One prominent sixteenth century physician, Xu
Chunfu (1526–1596), wrote in his major work Gujin
Yitong Daquan (Medical Tradition of the Past and of
the Present) that “Confucianism and medicine cannot
be separated.” His contemporary, also a famous doctor,
Gong Tingxian (1522–1619), put forward ten require-
ments for physicians, the first two being to cherish
kindness and to understand Confucian principles.
Another doctor, Li Ting (d. 1619), in his Rules for
Medical Studies stated from the outset that, “Since
medicine comes from Confucianism, unless one studies
and understands the [basic] principles, one remains
mediocre, vulgar and stupid…” At the same time,
detailed instructions on treating female patients were
increasingly provided in order to avoid transgressing
the Confucian principle of the separation of the sexes.
M
However, it was also prominent “Confucian doctors”
of this period that further defined medical ethics in
more systematic ways. The above-mentioned Xu
Chunfu was among the first to list the main “vices”
of yongyi, including taking on the appearances of good
doctors with a few tricks, extorting money out of
patients, and freeing themselves of responsibility by
any means in case of misdiagnosis leading to death.
Another famous doctor of the seventeenth century
wrote the first Medical Code in 1658. Yu Jiayan
(ca. 1585–1664) wrote detailed technical diagnostic
guidelines for professional doctors. He made the doctor
responsible for all avoidable diagnostic errors, and in so
doing, attempted to draw a clearer line constructed on
technical considerations between a liangyi and a
yongyi. In other words, development, though limited,
was still perceptible in the professional consciousness
of doctors despite the overwhelming influence of
Confucianism in this period.
However, the incomplete growth of an autonomous
medical profession inevitably left areas of ambiguities
in medical ethics. One such is the transmission of
“secret prescriptions.” For some historians of medicine,
“the dispensing of secret prescriptions was never
considered to be unethical in China. Some even
deemed it an honor for a physician to know a secret
formula.” However, there are indications that not all
1458 Medical ethics in India
approved of this attitude. Among others Xu Youzhen
(1407–1472), a scholar-official, accused contemporary
doctors of preserving secret prescriptions for private
profit. For him, effective prescriptions should be
published in order to save more lives and to be passed
onto posterity. An early nineteenth century physician,
Bao Xiang'ao, wrote in the preface of his compilation
of “effective prescriptions” that those who did not make
effective prescriptions public were despicable.
This ethical ambiguity of the necessity of keeping
prescriptions and healing techniques secret obviously
was a consequence of the basic structure of the medical
institution in late Imperial China: the lack of centralized
control in the production of medical knowledge, either
by the state or by a self-regulatory medical corps, and
the accompanying uncontrolled distribution of medical
resources in society. Each family or school of medicine
thus had to preserve its share of the resources in order
to be competitive in the field, though morally such an
attitude was obviously questionable. Such a characteristic
only encountered effective challenge when western
medicine was introduced into China in the late nineteenth
century, together with its ethics and institutions.
See also: ▶Bian Que, ▶Sun Simo, ▶Zhang Zhongjing,
▶Huangdi Neijing
References
He, Zhaoxiong. Zhongguo Yide Shi (A History of Chinese
Medical Ethics). Shanghai: Shanghai Yike Daxue
Chubanshe, 1988.
Hymes, Robert. Not Quite Gentlemen? Doctors in Sung and
Yuan. Chinese Science 8 (1987): 33.
Li, T'ao. Medical Ethics in Ancient China. Bulletin of the
History of Medicine 13.3 (1943): 268–77.
Unschuld, Paul U. Medical Ethics in Imperial China.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979.
Zhou, Yimou, ed. Lidai Mingyi Lun Yide (Medical Ethics
Discussed by Doctors Throughout the Ages). Changsha:
Hunan kexue jishu chubanshe, 1983.
Medical Ethics in India
P RAKASH N. D ESAI
The origins of medicine in India stretch back to
antiquity. The Harrapan city culture flourished in and
around the Indus Valley ca. 2500 BCE; it is known for
its elaborate bathhouses and drains and sewers built
under the streets leading to soak pits. In the second
millennium BCE, the northwestern parts of India were
host to a series of Indo-European immigrants and
invaders from Central Asia. With them began the
classical culture of India. Vedas, the sacred lore of
the Indo-Europeans, celebrate the Bhesaj, one knowl-
edgeable in medicinal herbs. One of the four Vedas, the
Atharvaveda, contains many chants, mantras, and
herbal preparations to ward off evil, enemies, and
diseases. The priest–physicians prescribed preparations
of plants and herbs, and prayers and fasts for their
patients. The Indian medical tradition, Āyurveda,
meaning the science of vitality and long life, is
considered a limb of the Atharvaveda.
A more formal system of medicine evolved from
around the time of the Buddha (ca. 500 BCE). It
became organized in textual form in the first century
AD, and reposes in a vast body of literature redacted
and updated from that time to the present. There are six
principal texts of the Āyurveda. The older three are the
two compendia, Carakasam . hitā and Suśrutasam . hitā,
named after the two legendary physicians, Caraka and
.
Suśruta, and the As.t. āngahr.daya, the eightfold essence
attributed to an eighth century physician named
Vāgbhat.a. The younger three are the Mādhavanidāna
.
(ninth century), Śārngadharasam . hitā (thirteenth or
early fourteenth century), and Bhāvaprakāś Bhāvamiśra
(sixteenth century). The word caraka also means one
who moves about, and may have referred to the itinerant
Buddhist and Jain monks who played a pioneering role
in the evolution of the Indian medical tradition. In the
realm of King Aśoka (273–232 BCE), who embraced
Buddhist ideals, Buddhist monasteries served as
institutions, like hospitals and hospices, for the care of
the sick and the dying.
The earliest medical writings known as the Bower
manuscripts, discovered in a Buddhist Stupa in
Kashgar (modern China), and translated by Rudolph
Hoernle, are considered to have been written by
Buddhist authors around AD 450. These texts contain
medical treatises which describe the virtues of garlic in
curing diseases and extending the life span, elixirs for a
long life, ways of preparing medical mixtures, eye
lotions, oils, enemas, aphrodisiacs, and procedures for
the care of children. Early Indian medicine was carried
to Tibet along with Buddhism and was best preserved
there, as well as in China. Travelers to and from China,
Greece, Persia, and Arabia contributed to the spread of
Indian medicine outside India.
The basic assumptions of Indian medicine are rooted
in the religious and philosophical traditions of India.
Early developments exhibited great diversity in opinion
and formulation in keeping with the diversity in Indian
thought, tied to Hindu, Buddhist, or Jaina philosophies
in various measures. Similarly the system allowed for
significant geographic variation as knowledge spread
through the subcontinent over a long period of time.
The medical ethics which are closely linked to these
religious and philosophical perspectives (darśanas)
reveal variable, shifting, and accommodating attitudes.

Āyurvedic constructs of the body and the self,
central to the medical enterprise, grew in tandem with
the faith traditions. The primary vehicles of ayurvedic
pathophysiology are the dos.as (humors): vāyu or vāta
(wind), pitta (bile), and kapha (phlegm), and the dhātus
(body substances). The three humors represent move-
ment, heat, and moisture, respectively, in the body. The
primary body substance, rasa, organic sap, is derived
from food, moves throughout the body, is stored in various
reservoirs, and is finally excreted as waste products. In
processes of sequential transformation, the dhātus, flesh,
fat, bone, marrow, and semen, are derived, semen being
the purest and most vital product of this process.
The Indian system of medicine views health as a
state of balance of body substances, dhātusamya, and
illness as a state of disequilibrium. The body responds
to many kinds of inputs: physical, as in food and drink,
psychological, as in emotions of anger or jealousy, and
social, as in affection, praise, or scorn. Each input is a
potential source of a disease or a cure.
The theory of gun.as (lit. strands or qualities) intro-
duces the notion of ethics as a material basis in the
ayurvedic pathophysiology. Inherent and substantial,
sattva (goodness), rajas (vitality or activity), and tamas
(inertia) are qualities or traits found in all substances in
various combinations. The balance determines the
overall dispositions of persons, foods, activities, bodily
substances, and so forth. Sattva, which is cool and light,
produces calmness, purity, or virtue; rajas, which is
hot and active, produces passion, happiness, or sorrow;
and tamas, which is dark, heavy, and dull, produces
sloth, stupidity, and evil. Contemplation, meditation,
silence, devotion, and fasting promote goodness; love,
battle, attachment, pleasure seeking, and emotionality
enhance vitality. Sleep and idleness increase inertia. In a
hierarchy of values, the sattva categories reign supreme
and become less material, closer to the idea of sat (truth
or essence), and often the same as the mind or self. The
object of the therapeutic is to transform a person from
lower to higher strands or qualities, which is accom-
plished through the prescription of foods and activities
which build goodness. Thus the therapeutic and the
ethical become coterminous.
In the Indian view life is not the opposite of death;
birth is the opposite of death. Life begins when an
embryo is formed out of the union of male and female
germinal substances. Defining when human life begins
was neither easy nor uniform and straightforward. Some
texts maintained that life began with the aforesaid union,
and others at the moment of quickening or the descent of
the fetus into the pelvis; the latter was more frequently
understood as a point of viability. Abnormal pregnan-
cies, congenital deformities, multiple pregnancies, and
infertility were explained in terms of defective germinal
substances, unnatural coitus, failure in nourishment, or
disturbances in humors in the mother or the fetus.
Medical ethics in India 1459
Among the religious obligations, having male
progeny was imperative in order to secure a passage
to the land of forefathers through the performance of
funerary rites. In situations in which a woman failed to
have a son, the man was to take another wife, or
otherwise adopt a son. If the problem appeared to be
male impotence or infertility, the husband’s younger
brother or another suitable man was to impregnate the
wife (a custom called niyoga). Early medical texts
elaborate on the ways of enhancing conception, and later
texts discuss problems of contraception. Mythology also
testifies to in vitro fertilization and embryo transfer.
The Suśrutasam . hitā describes various forms of
arrested fetal development or obstructed deliveries
and describes ways of inducing labor and/or destroying
the fetus, especially in the case of danger to the
mother’s life. A seventeenth century text also describes
ways of inducing labor for purposes of abortion in
cases of women in poor health, widows, and women of
liberal morals.
In contemporary problems of medical ethics, no
problem has caused as much furor as has amniocente-
sis. Preference for a male child, with an easily available
technology to determine gender prenatally, has resulted
in inordinate and indiscriminate use of abortions. Some
states in India have enacted laws to restrict the scope of
indications and use of amniocentesis.
There are three categories for the etiology of diseases
in Āyurveda. External or invasive diseases are caused
M
by foreign bodies, injuries, infestations, and possession
by evil spirits. Internal diseases are disturbances of
humors, in part caused by lapses in discretion, as in
faulty or unseasonable diets, overexertion, sloth, sexual
indulgence, or mental disturbances. In either case, the
final pathway for the pathology of a disease is an
imbalance of humors. The third category contains the
diseases which are the fruits of karma, the operative
principle of Hindu ethics. A very simple explanation
might be “every action has a reaction” or “as you sow,
so shall you reap,” but the logic extends beyond one
life. In karma theory, when a person dies his self moves
to the other world, enveloped in the part material and
part ethereal covering which carries the traces of all
actions performed, and comes to determine its condition
in the next life. Thus some diseases are the fruits of
actions from past lives. The unseen hand of karma is
invoked to explain the not so easily explicable. Events
like epidemics and disasters are a result of bad actions of
a whole community or the actions of a king.
Mental illnesses also arise from these etiologies:
possession states, disturbances in humors, and lapses in
discretion. Some disease states are also seen as the
workings of time, as in aging.
Physicians in ancient India did consider karma in
etiology, but they agreed that the passivity that results
from assumptions of predetermination made the whole
1460 Medical ethics in Islam
medical enterprise meaningless. Human effort was
always a factor in the workings of karma, and caring
and healing must be actively pursued by the physician.
There was also a recognition of incurable diseases, in
the face of which human effort was futile. The
physician was prudent if he avoided heroic efforts to
prevent the inevitable, which not only led to loss of
income but also loss of prestige. If the case was
hopeless, the physician was to do no more than attend
to the nutrition of the dying patient, and even that might
be withdrawn at the request of the family.
A category of “willed death” was also recognized in
the various religious traditions and was understood
to be different from suicide. Suicide was regarded as
an act of desperation and willed death an act of
determination. It involved permission of the religious
order and was resorted to only when the quality of
remaining life was likely to be poor.
The ayurvedic physician, called a vaidya, was
esteemed for his powers but also shunned because of
his contact with impurities such as body products,
suppurative lesions, and corpses, and his mingling with
common people. Taboos around touching ultimately
resulted in palpation falling into disuse.
The physician was enjoined to strive constantly to
acquire new knowledge, advance through practical
experience, and enter into learned dialogues with
practitioners from other places. His education began
as an apprentice, with the teacher and pupil choosing
each other. A good teacher was free of conceit, greed,
and envy, and a student had to be calm, friendly, and
without physical defects. Later on the vaidya became a
subcaste or occupational division, and the profession
passed from father to son.
The Caraksam . hitā contains an extensive list of
ethical directives in the form of an oath to be taken by
one entering medical practice. Among these were
injunctions never to abandon a patient even if that
interfered with one’s livelihood, to be modest in dress
and conduct, gentle, worthy, and wholesome. A
physician must not enter a patient’s house without
permission, and be mindful of the peculiar customs of a
household. He was to avoid women who belonged to
others and maintain confidentiality.
Quacks and charlatans were known by their pretense
and arrogance, boastfulness and superficial knowledge.
The fate of their patients was worse than death. The
Caraksam . hitā says that one can survive a thunderbolt
but not the medicine prescribed by quacks.
Medical ethics was an integral part of ancient
Indian medicine. The texts addressed ethical issues
that arose at both ends of life, birth and death. Their
approach was pragmatic and flexible, and the purpose
of alleviating an illness was always considered in the
context of geographic locale, time (the era and the
stages of a patient’s life), and the particularities of a
person. The physician’s conduct was also to be always
above reproach both in his professional and personal
conduct.
See also: ▶Medicine in India, ▶Caraka, ▶Suśruta
References
Primary Sources
Brihadaranyaka Upanis.ad. Trans. F. Max Muller in the
Upanis.ads part 2. New York: Dover, 1962.
Carakasam . hitā. 2 vols. Trans. Priyavrat Sharma. Varanasi,
India: Chaukhambha Orientalia, 1981–1983.
Mahābhārata, Vols 1–3. Trans. J. A. B. Van Buitenen.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973.
Suśrutasam. hitā. Trans. Vaidya Jadavji Trikamji Acharya and
Narayana Ram Acharya. Varanasi, India: Chaukhambha
Orientalia, 1980.
Secondary Sources
Chandrashekar, Sripati. Abortion in a Crowded World: The
Problem of Abortion with Special Reference to India.
London: Allen and Unwin, 1974.
Chattopadhyaya, Debiprasad. Science and Society in Ancient
India. Calcutta: Research India Publications, 1977.
Dasgupta, Surendranath. A History of Indian Philosophy. 5
vols. London and New York: Cambridge University Press,
1922–1955.
Desai, Prakash. Medical Ethics in India. Journal of Medicine
and Philosophy 13 (1988.): 231–55.
---. Health and Medicine in the Hindu Tradition. New York:
Crossroads, 1989.
---. Hinduism and Bioethics. Bioethics Yearbook. Vol. I.
Theological Developments in Bioethics, 1988–1990. Eds.
Baruch A. Brody et al. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic
Publishers, 1991. 41–60.
Fujii, Masao. Buddhism and Bioethics in India: ATradition in
Transition. Bioethics Yearbook. Vol. I. Theological Devel-
opments in Bioethics, 1988–1990. Ed. Baruch A. Brody,
et al. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1991. 61–8.
Jolly, Julius. Indian Medicine. Trans. Chintamani Ganesh
Kashikar. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1977.
Purushottama, Bilimoria. The Jaina Ethic of Voluntary Death.
Bioethics 6.4 (1992): 331–55.
Young, Katherine K. Euthanasia: Traditional Hindu Views,
and the Contemporary Debate. Hindu Ethics: Purity,
Abortion, and Euthanasia. Ed. Harold G. Coward, Julius
J. Lipner, and Katherine K. Young. Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1989. 71–130.
Medical Ethics in Islam
A ZIM A. N ANJI
The ethical assumptions underlying the practice of
medicine in Islam are inspired by two foundational
texts: the Qurān, the divine message revealed to the
Prophet Muh.ammad; and the Sunnah, the paradigmatic

life of the Prophet Muh.ammad which complemented
and exemplified the Quranic message. A secondary
source of influence resulted from the Muslim conquest
and expansion of the seventh to the eleventh centuries,
when the cultural and scientific heritage of Antiquity
was translated into Arabic and came selectively to be
appropriated, refined and developed by Muslims. The
integration of this heritage into Muslim civilization led
to a new synthesis, not only of the science of medicine
but also of the moral values supporting it. Although
some of the medical traditions and values of Antiquity
were sustained, they were set in Islamic contexts which
allied their meaning and purpose to different goals.
The early centuries of Islam also represented a
tremendous flowering of intellectual sciences. Muslims
were encouraged by their faith and by the Qurān to
engage actively in the pursuit of knowledge. This
impetus translated itself into significant advances in
the study of the natural sciences, cosmology, geogra-
phy, mathematics, history, law, languages, and medi-
cine to name some of the major disciplines. The
emergence of Muslim medical ethics has to be situated
within this matrix of scientific interest and intellectual
commitment.
Muslim views regarding medicine evolved from that
of a predominantly Arab cultural setting to that of a
diverse and cosmopolitan civilization. The reconstruc-
tion in Muslim thought of a prophetic medicine,
emphasizing the spiritual dimension and the role of
faith in healing, represented an attempt to associate with
the Prophet those practices of human life and healing
promoted by the rise of a tradition of scientific medicine.
The perception of Muslim adherence to prophetic
medicine has often been misconstrued as promoting a
kind of fatalism, but it would be misleading to extend
this interpretation to the whole spectrum of medical ethics
and values among Muslims. Prophetic medicine devel-
oped alongside professional medicine, which cultivated
its own frame of reference for integrating ideas.
Adab is the Arabic term that best describes the
pattern of medical ethics and conduct which evolved
as a result of the synthesis of the Islamic message
and Hellenistic thought. The term represents a set of
cultural and moral assumptions articulating the linking
of knowledge to appropriate behavior. Ishāq ibn ‘Alī
al-Ruhāwi, a ninth-century Christian physician, trans-
lated one of the earliest texts dealing with medical
ethics into Arabic. His work already reflects the
vocabulary of Islam and a heritage of Prophetic
religion integrated within a moral framework attributed
to Galen and the ancient philosophers. According to
al-Ruhāwi, medicine is a divine art granted to humanity
by the Creator, whose healing role the physician
imitates. Prayer, as the first and last act of the day, is
recommended as part of the personal conduct and
moral beliefs of physicians.
Medical ethics in Islam 1461
Within the larger harmony of moral and religious
principles is the ethical concept of moderation. Muslim
medicine did not accept the body/soul distinction of
the Greek tradition but conceived of human beings as
entities formed in symmetry and harmony. One of the
most illustrious physicians of early Muslim history,
Abū Zakariya al-Rāzī (Rhazes) argued for a healthy,
moral life based on moderation between excessive
indulgence and abstinence and an adherence to a life
of knowledge pursued to balance physical, moral, and
intellectual needs.
The Qurān’s message of social justice, developed
into the notion of public welfare and charitable works
toward the poor, influenced medical values in ways
quite different from that of the Hippocratic tradition.
The hospital, founded through royal acts of patronage
or endowments, is an Islamic institution traceable to
the eighth century. This larger social role, engendered
by Islamic values of concern and care for the indigent,
represents perhaps one major difference with the
practice of Antiquity, where the emphasis lay mostly
on the physician’s concern and relationship with an
individual patient.
The rise of the physicians and the medical ethics that
guided the emergent profession in Muslim society
cannot be separated from the general tenor of the
civilization and the polity that had emerged after the
founding and spread of Islam. The moral discussions
and intellectual forces that emerged stimulated a
M
concern for how moral and religious perspectives could
be reconciled with intellectual modes of inquiry. But
professional medicine was only one of several thera-
peutic systems available. As Sufism, the mystical and
spiritual dimension of Islam, grew in influence and
became institutionalized through a system of orders, the
heads of these organizations came to be regarded as
having the power to intercede in moments of crisis,
including disease. In time this led to an extensive use of
amulets, granting of prayers and recitations from the
Qurān as aids to healing. Such traditions and practices
came to occupy a relatively prominent place beside that
of professional medicine during the premodern period,
and continue to be influential in many Muslim societies.
Whereas the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries
marked a new impulse in medical and ethical thinking
in Europe, the events leading to the encounter of modern
Western culture and political power with the world of
Islam created a different context for the assimilation
and practices of modern medicine. Muslims were faced
with new tools and methods of healing which called
into question all of the normative assumptions that
previously had been integrated into their adab of
medicine. The institutionalization of Western medical
practices also resulted in moral and ethical conse-
quences. Muslim responses reflected all of the ambi-
guities in the face of the challenge the new authority and
1462 Medical paintings of Tibet (Sman thang)
its civilization brought. For some, Islam would serve as a
moral sanctuary from which to combat secular ways of
staving off disease. For others, it led to an acceptance of
modernity and provided the impulse to shape it in
conformity with the sources and perceptions of their past
heritage. The process of change as it affected medical
practice and value thus cannot be separated from the
larger issues entailed by the colonial encounter and the
patterns of medical education and practice, as well as
attitudes to disease and healing that came in the wake of
Western contact and influence. The measures instituted
through European doctors and medicine eventually
received acceptance by a new generation of profes-
sional physicians and led to the assimilation and
emulation of the new practitioners and their values.
The duality that resulted caused a failure to ground the
new training and knowledge within Muslim theological
moral and cultural contexts and separated the “new”
physicians from traditional counterparts and their moral
world. In many ways, this sense of duality and the effort
to recover the center constitute the story of ethical issues
facing twentieth and twenty-first century Islam. The
most important challenge however remains the formu-
lation of an adab that will guide the practice of medicine
while remaining engaged with its past ethical underpin-
ning and taking account of the dramatic changes brought
about by population growth, poverty, and national
policy.
In the field of medicine as in other scientific and
technological areas, Muslims are faced with complex
choices and newly emerging issues that raise moral
dilemmas. There is a greater need to harness resources
that advance skills in moral reasoning and enhance
sensitivity, and to integrate these into perspectives
of medical education, institutional development and
the Islamic commitment to ameliorate poverty and
disease.
See also: ▶al-Rāzī
References
Azmi, K. A. Shafqat and M. K. Siddiqui. Islamic Medical
Ethics with Special Reference to Moalejat-e-Buqratiya.
Bulletin of the Indian Institute of History of Medicine 29.1
(1999): 15–27.
Carrick, Paul. Medical Ethics in the Ancient World.
Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2001.
Dogan, Hanzade. Organization of Medical Ethics and
Cultures: Copy and Paste?: A Short Comparison of the
Evolution of Medicine and Ethics in the Ottomans and the
Western World. Hamdard Medicus 44.2 (2001): 5–11.
Hameed, Abdul. Medical Ethics in Medieval Islam. Studies in
History of Medicine and Science 16.1 (1999): 1–19.
Hourani, G. Reason and Tradition in Islamic Ethics. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985.
Hovannisian, R. ed. Ethics in Islam. Malibu, California:
Undena Publications, 1985.
Nanji, Azim. Islamic Ethics. A Companion to Ethics.
Ed. Peter Singer. Cambridge: Blackwells, 1991: 106–118.
Nasr, S. H. Ideals and Realities in Islam. Cambridge,
Massachusetts: Beacon, 1972.
Rahman, F. Health and Medicine in the Islamic Tradition.
New York: Crossroad, 1987.
Medical Paintings of Tibet (Sman
thang)
Z HEN YAN
Sman thang is the abridged form in the Tibetan lan-
guage for Tibetan medical painting, in which Sman
stands for medicine, while thang refers to thangkha, a
hanging scroll commonly mounted on a piece of silk
with vignettes of various backgrounds.
There is no definite conclusion as to exactly when
the Sman thang appeared in history. However, in so far
as the painting art of thangkha is concerned, there are
some studies written by scholars outside China. The
prestigious Italian Tibetologist, G. Tucci, provided very
detailed descriptions on these works of art (1949).
Generally, it is claimed that the thangkha originated
from religious demand, beginning with the painting
of Buddhist icons. The paintings, in addition to the
main Buddhist icons, provided contrasts with other
items such as clouds in the sky, trees, birds, or beasts;
later, landscape painting also appeared. Such primitive
religious paintings were owned by lamaseries, and
were hung in the Buddhist hall for worship by monks
and devotees. Sometimes, the secular population also
used them when storytellers were narrating their tales, so
as to keep the attention of the audience and strengthen its
attraction. Scholars claimed that the modern thangkha
was systematized and flourished under the auspices
of the Sa skya sect of Lamaism from the thirteenth
century. This is based on Tucci and Pal’s descriptions.
The provenance of Tibetan medical thangkha might be
so early, based on our investigation on the whole series
of modern Sman thang and the in-depth study of the
history of Tibetan medicine as a whole.
In the mid-seventeenth century, during the reign of
the fifth Dalai Lama, because of the diversity of various
patterns and styles of earlier Sman thang painting, there
are differences regarding the recognition of Tibetan
drugs, therapies, and moxibustion points. The Regent
of Dalai Lama made up his mind to rearrange and
systematize the existing Sman thang. After approval by
the Dalai Lama, Sde srid sangs rgyas rgya mtsho used
his Baidurya sngon po, the most prestigious commen-
tary on the medical canon, Rgyud bzhi, as a basis, and
painted a new whole series of Sman thang. Altogether
60 paintings were completed in the year 1688.

But the Regent was not satisfied, considering there
was a need to further expand the series. With the members
of the original team, based on some new materials,
including the diagnosis and points for moxibustion
included in Sman dpyad zla ba’i rgyal po of the
Tubo Dynasty, drugs newly discovered and applied
to different points and vessels for moxibustion and
bloodletting in both Northern and Southern Schools,
new Sman thangs were drawn. Ultimately, in 1703, the
total number increased to 79. This might be the mother
Sman thang series of modern colored Sman thang series.
When the fifth Dalai Lama died, 50 of the paintings
were used as funeral objects and buried in the chod rten
(mausoleum), since they had been viewed as treasures
by the ruling class. New versions were duplicated
during the reigns of the sixth and seventh Dalai Lamas.
The 13th Dalai Lama (reigned 1895–1933) also
treasured the Sman thang series, which were repro-
duced, either individually or in a series, in 1918, 1923,
and 1933 separately.
In 1923, the then director of the Sman rtsi khang
(now Traditional Tibetan Hospital of Tibet Autonomous
Region) painted a new Sman thang. Being the 80th in the
whole series, this thangkha is very unique and different
from the others. It is entitled “famous physicians of
successive ages.” Altogether 12 physicians are included.
On the back of this thangkha, the date of printing was
given, which was never seen in the previous ones.
The total number of the whole series of Sman thang
is 80. It deals with the whole picture of Tibetan medi-
cine based on the Baidurya sngon po. This includes the
history of Tibetan medicine, the physiology, anatomy,
pathology, diagnostics especially pulse taking and
urinalysis, medical instruments, all clinical aspects,
including the causes, manifestations, treatments of all
diseases in internal medicine, sensory organs, gynecol-
ogy, pediatrics, dermatology, Tibetan materia medica,
recipes, drug forms, all sort of therapies, medical ethics,
and macrobiotics.
All paintings in the current series were not painted at
the same time, so the paintings in the whole set are not
identical in their sizes. Some might be smaller, others
bigger, measuring 75.0–86.0 × 58.0–68.0 cm in size.
All the illustrations contain vivid Tibetan characters,
architecture, clothes, natural scenes, and folk vignettes.
A few special points need to be pointed out here.
First, the reader can learn the wisdom of the ancient
Tibetan people and their customs and habits. The
paintings contain such elements as national clothing,
especially the special hairstyles and decorations with
which comparative studies on clothing of ancient and
modern periods can be made.
The expression of the Tibetan language throughout
the Sman thang is unique. As shown in the second, third,
and fourth thangkhas, there are special manifestations
of a tree, the so-called “base wood,” “allegorical,”
Medical paintings of Tibet (Sman thang) 1463
“unfolded,” or “wish-fulfilling” tree. Of course, it is hard
to say that the trees in these paintings are exactly the base
wood; however, it is quite similar to the actual tree
(referring to the original paintings, not to the reproduc-
tions drawn elsewhere). Through the roots, trunks,
branches, leaves, flowers, and fruits of these trees and so
on, the physiology, pathology, diagnosis, and treatment
of Tibetan medicine are fully laid out. Through this
imagery, it is easier to remember the three-factor theory,
the seven materials and the three excreta, the etiology
and causes of diseases, and the transmission routes,
locations of lesions and the rules governing them, the
sequelae, classification of diseases and causes of death,
all kinds of diagnostic methods, food and drink, daily
life, treatment, medication, and topical therapies. In
short, by these three base woods, all the contents of
Tibetan medicine are included, embodying the wisdom
of the Tibetan people.
The application of a measuring system by ancient
Tibetan people is, again, a unique one. The unit for
anatomical measurement, for example, is tong shen cun
(homophysical inch), namely, applying the length of
certain part of the patient’s own body as a unit for
measurement, such as the finger or the fist, the thumb, or
the two points between the ends of the radial creases of
the second phalanges when the middle finger is flexed.
There are some very interesting paintings. In the
painting of embryology, two points must be mentioned.
First, the painting shows the development of an embryo
M
beginning from the combining of the father’s semen
and mother’s blood. The simple fertilized ovum develops
gradually into a complex structure and increases in
size and changes its structure gradually. Unlike some
ancient embryologists who claimed that an embryo is
nothing but a miniature baby that simply increased in
size, without any other changes which is the so-called
“preformation theory,” popular at the time before being
superseded by the scientific embryological theory of
the modern age, Tibetan embryology is rather scientific
as compared with the Western theory. Another point is
that the painting shows that during the developmental
processes of an embryo, there are three stages through
which it should pass. These stages are called fish stage,
tortoise stage, and pig stage. The ancient Tibetan
embryologist might recognize this problem on the basis
of the morphology of the embryo. Whatever the
condition, this idea is exactly in line with the theory
of modern embryology which claims that the human
embryo is developed as a miniature of the evolutionary
process of the animal kingdom, moving from simple
water-borne organisms through the early stages of
vertebral animals living in water and then passing on
through the birds and mammals, until a human being
was finally formed. The description in the painting,
therefore, coincides with modern embryology, a very
high achievement of Tibetan medicine.
1464 Medical texts in China
Painting no. 51 is an anatomical illustration. In this
painting, there are six illustrations. Among them, four
show a sitting position, while the remaining two depict
a standing position. The two sitting pictures at the
center show an anterior and posterior view. The anterior
view shows the internal viscera. The key points are the
position and the contour of the heart. Here, the heart is
in the shape of a lotus flower bud, with the round end
situated in the middle lower part of the chest, while the
sharp end is pointing upward, which is based on the
description in the Rgyud bzhi, saying that “the heart is
sitting on the throne like a king.” Hence it is sitting
solemnly in the middle of the chest with its tip pointing
upward.
This goes against the actual structure of the body
in which the heart is situated in the left middle part of
the chest, with the tip pointing leftward and downward
instead of upward. During the reign of the fifth Dalai
Lama, Lho brag sten zin nor bu, a physician and painter,
through observation of cadavers, found the actual
condition of the anatomical structure and produced a
drawing to check the errors, declaring that this was
“what I witnessed.” He also produced drawings of the
gallbladder, lungs, stomach, intestine, bladder, kidneys,
liver, and bsam se’u, all appended at the sides of this
thangkha.
This painting is the most unique one in the whole
series. It is evident that this Sman thang was prepared
by at least two persons: an anonymous painter for the
original painting and Sten zin nor bu for the revised
one. This is the only case of its kind in the whole series
and is of utmost scientific importance.
During the reign of the fifth Dalai Lama, Tibet was
still a society ruled by a unified political-religious
system, Lamaism, with Tibetan Buddhism being the
highest ruling spiritual discipline, and the Dalai Lama
being the secular and religious head. He was in the
position as shown in the painting as the King of Tibet
sitting in the middle.
To change this situation of supremacy according
to the actual conditions, the painter risked being
accused of blasphemy. The formal drawing of this
Sman thang demonstrates, on the one hand, that the
fifth Dalai Lama was open-minded enough to tolerate
and respect natural science in order to publicize the
real situation to the populace, and Sten zin nor bu was
brave enough to insist on upholding this scientific
spirit and the truth. This explains, at least, that, by
then, anatomical science was respected and its dignity
and purity was protected.
People now call Sman thang the gem of Tibetan
medicine; and it is treasured by people all over the
world. This whole series of paintings have been now
published in atlases or albums in several languages
with elaborate commentaries.
References
Anonymous. Bka’ thang sde lnga (The Five Books of Edicts).
Beijing: Nationalities Press, 1985.
Byams pa ’phrin las and J. F. Cai. Tibetan Medical Thangka
of the Four Medical Tantras. Tibetan–English ed. Lhasa:
People’s Publishing House of Tibet, 1988.
Jackson, David and Janice Jackson. Tibetan Thangka
Painting, Methods and Materials. London: Serinia Pub-
lications, 1994.
Meyer, F., Y. Parfianovitch, and Gyurmed Dorje. Tibetan
Medical Paintings. London: Serindia Publications, 1992.
Tucci, G. Tibetan Painted Scrolls. Rome: La Libreria della
Stata, 1949.
Medical Texts in China
R ICHARD B ERTSCHINGER
The texts of Chinese medicine are extremely volumi-
nous. They have a continuous history of more than
2,000 years, of which little is known in the West.
Standard works up to AD 1900 number around 190,
and if popular writings are included this rises to at least
1,500. There has been great activity since the 1949
establishment of the New China, and a modern
dictionary of traditional Chinese medicine written in
Shanghai in 1988 refers to over 4,000 individuals and
8,000 works. And yet there are barely a dozen
translations of these texts. The whole corpus also
includes works on massage, diet therapy, and therapeutic
exercise similar to the contemporary popular Taiji Quan
(Supreme Ultimate Boxing) and Qi Gong (Breathing
Therapy). These have been largely omitted from the
following entry, which describes, in chronological order,
the most important texts on medical theory, acupuncture
and moxibustion, and herbal medicine.
The earliest extant systematic writings, which formed
the cornerstone for all medicine in China, Japan, Korea,
and the Far East, are collected in the large compilation
made during the Han dynasty (202 BCE–AD 220),
named the Huangdi Neijing (The Yellow Emperor’s
Inner Canon). Extracting itself from the notion of
ancestral curses and demonic attacks as the cause for
illness, the reasoned tone of this compilation (and it is
only one of many Han classics) laid a foundation for the
next 2,000 years of medical writing, and its influence
soon spread to Korea, Japan, and beyond.
The basic theory of Chinese medicine, as spoken in
the Huangdi Neijing, involves the interplay and
interfusion of yin (quiescent) and yang (active) forces,
producing both health and disease. This alternation
occurs both within the human body, and between the body
and the natural world. Chinese medicine pays particular

attention to natural rhythms and the wuxing, five
fundamental elemental associations of vegetation, fire,
soil, minerals, and fluids (wood, fire, earth, metal, and
water), both within the natural world and as symbolic
agents of change within the body. Illness is seen as a
disorder of the qi (vital energy), perhaps enhanced by
some external factor but primarily involving a deficiency
within the individual.
The Shennong Bencao (Shennong’s Herbal) ap-
peared soon after the Huangdi Neijing. It is the earliest
surviving materia medica, believed to have been
compiled during the first century BCE. In this work
365 kinds of medicinal substances are listed and
divided up into three classes: major remedies, medium
remedies, and minor remedies.
An almost contemporaneous and equally important
text is the Shanghan Lun (Discussion on Cold-Induced
Disorders) which was written by Zhang Zhongjing
(ca. AD 150–219) at the close of the Han, and which
has proven to be one of the most influential texts in
Chinese medicine. This was the first to advocate the
analysis of medical conditions in accordance with the
six channels (taiyang, yangming, shaoyang, taiyin,
shaoyin, and jueyin) and eight syndromes (yin/yang,
outer/inner, hot/cold, and excess/deficient). Along with
the Huangdi Neijing, it formed a straightforward basis for
the development of traditional Chinese medicine. Its
companion text is the Jingui Yaolue Fang Lun (Concise
Prescriptions from the Golden Casket, ca. 220), also by
Zhang Zhongjing.
The importance of these two texts, the Huangdi
Neijing and the Shanghan Lun, is that they illustrate
the building up of a well worked out and heuristic,
classificatory framework, involving the yin and yang,
the five phases, the six channel types, and the eight
principle syndromes of diagnosis, into which the results
of any doctor’s medical observations could be fitted.
The first textbook on acupuncture and moxibustion
was the Zhenjiu Jiayi Jing (A–Z of Acupuncture and
Moxibustion), written by Huangfu Mi some time around
AD 280. Much of this text actually repeats verbatim the
Huangdi Neijing, but it also gives the first systematic
description of acupuncture points, each listed according
to its position on the body, and also their function. In
addition, the first book on pulse diagnosis, the Mai Jing
(Pulse Classic, ca. 300), appeared during this period.
The author, Wang Shuhe, perfected the art of pulse
taking, describing in detail nearly 30 separate categories
of pulse. This work, along with Li Shizhen’s Binhu
Maixue (Pulse Studies of Master Binhu), written later
during the Ming, formed the core texts for this unique
method, which is characteristically Chinese.
It is recorded in the Tang dynasty histories that the
Imperial medical colleges based their teachings upon
the Huangdi Neijing and Huangfu Mi’s Zhenjiu Jiayi
Medical texts in China 1465
Jing. Among the books also at their disposal would
have been the famous, and charmingly titled Zhouhou
Beiji Fang (Emergency Remedies to Keep Up One’s
Sleeve, ca. 340), by the ardent Daoist Ge Hong. Ge
Hong was also the compiler of the early alchemical and
dietetic work Bao Pu Zi (The Work of Master Puzi).
Sun Simiao (also called Sun Simo), in 652,
published the Qianjin Yao Fang (Remedies Worth
their Weight in Gold) and its sequel the Qianjin Yi Fang
(More Remedies Worth their Weight in Gold). These
two volumes were extremely diverse, and together they
summarized the medical achievements of the Tang,
including practices as diverse as incantation, prayer,
love philtres, exorcism, dietary restraints, as well as
acupuncture and herbal remedies. They also contain
the first known charts of the channels and points of
the human body, with front, side, and back views. Sun
Simiao’s work also contains the early Yinhai Jingwei
(A Detailed Study of the Silver Sea) which describes
81 eye conditions and their treatment, although this
work has also been attributed to an author from the Yuan
dynasty.
During this period, the earliest official pharmaco-
poeia ever to be published was sponsored by the Tang
government, based upon the work of the earlier
Shennong Herbal. The Tang Xinxiu Bencao (Tang
Newly Compiled Materia Medica) was complied by
Su Jing along with 22 other scholars, and it lists some
844 medical substances.
M
In AD 1027, at the establishment of the Song
dynasty, two bronze statues were cast by edict of the
Emperor, fashioned by a doctor, Wang Weiyi, who
incorporated into them all the known acupuncture
points. These statues were accompanied by his Tongren
Zhenjiu Shuxue Tu Jing (Illustrated Canon of Acu-
puncture Points based upon the Bronze Figures, 1026).
This text is still popular and used for point-location
in acupuncture colleges throughout the world. Also
around this time appeared the earliest work on bone
setting, the Lishang Suduan Mifang (Secrets of Treating
Wounds and Bone-Setting, ca. 946), put together by
Lin Daoren. This outlined the use of traction, fixation,
reduction, and reunion for fractures and dislocations.
The fixed attitude to traditional knowledge began
to subside gradually during this period. With greater
political stability and urbanization, medicine became
more intensive and specialized. The number of medical
publications during the Song exceeded those of all
previous ages put together, and it is largely the Song
view, and Song editions of texts, which are now extant.
The work begun by Lin Yi, with his editing and
reprinting between 1068 and 1077, produced the
classical editions most in use today. This was also the
century which initiated the massive Daoist patrology,
the Dao Zang (Storehouse of the Dao).
1466 Medical texts in China
The monumental Shengji Zonglu (Imperial Encyclo-
pedia of Medicine), complied by a board of physicians
under the emperor around AD 1111, was composed of
200 volumes. Other specialized works include the small
pamphlet the Yanglao Fengjin Shu (Looking After the
Aged, early eleventh century) by Chen Zhi, on the care
and feeding of old people, and the famous monograph
on beriberi, the Jiaoqi Chifa Zongyao (Every Essential
on the Treatment of Beriberi, 1078) by Tong Zhi.
During this time, another influential book was the
Sanyin Jiyi Fang Lun (Discourse on the Three Causes
Ultimately for Any One Disease, 1174) by Zhen Yan.
In this the cause of disease was seen as belonging to
one of three categories: either internal (including
emotional disturbances), external (climatic change),
or neither (malnutrition, over-feeding, animal or insect
bites and stings, wounds, hoarseness through shouting,
drowning, etc.). There was also the gynecological
Furen Da Quan Liang Fang (Collection of Excellent
Prescriptions for Women, AD 1237) by Chen Ziming,
consisting of 260 articles in eight divisions, and
numerous books on children’s illnesses and surgery.
One of the earliest was the Xiaoer Yaozheng Zhijue
(Treatise on Pediatric Pharmaceutics, 1119) by Qian Yi.
This small book exerted a profound influence on
pediatrics, giving valuable insights into measles, scarlet
fever, chickenpox and smallpox, along with innova-
tive methods of diagnosis and treatment. Also, in 1461,
the Dr. Gou Bing produced the Quan You Six Jiao
(Directions for Those Working in Pediatrics), in which
indigestion or wrong feeding was held to be the
probable cause of most ailments. The first treatise on
forensic medicine also was published at this time, the
Xiyuan Jilu (Instructions to Coroners, 1247), written by
Song Zi. This too proved to be a foundation text.
Around this time medical colleges became well
organized, and this setting of academic boundaries
resulted in differing schools of thought. One considered
disease to be caused by excessive heat in the body and
advocated cooling medicines; another emphasized the
use of purgatives and emetics; another extolled the use
of tonics. The most influential book surviving from
these debates was probably the Piwei Lun (Treatise on
the Stomach and Spleen, ca. 1230) by Li Dongyuan,
who put all disease down to disorders in life style and
the digestive tract. Also notable is the Rumen Shiqin (A
Literati’s Dutiful Care of His Parents) by Zhang Zihe
(1156–1228), which advocated the use of sweating,
emesis, and purgation.
Arriving at the Ming dynasty (1368–1644) we find
scholarship bearing remarkable results. The Bencao
Gangmu (A Materia Medica Compendium, 1590) by Li
Shizhen (1518–1593) is one of the most important
works ever produced in China. It was a gigantic text in
52 volumes, listing nearly 2,000 medical substances,
including plants, minerals, and animal products, with
over 10,000 prescriptions. It detailed the appearance,
properties, methods of collection, preparation and
function of each substance. This was a truly encyclo-
pedic work commenting on all branches of natural
history, botany, zoology, mineralogy, and metallurgy.
Mention should also be made of its forerunner, the Puji
Fang (Prescriptions for Universal Relief, 1406),
produced by Teng Hong, which contained an astonish-
ing 61,000 prescriptions.
Great textbooks on acupuncture also appeared
during the Ming. Again these were truly comprehen-
sive, reproducing the best of the old along with
reworkings and selections from the new. Most notable
are the Zhenjiu Daquan (Acupuncture and Moxibus-
tion in its Grand Entirety, 1439) by Xu Feng, the
skillfully compiled Zhenjiu Juying (Gatherings from
Outstanding Acupuncturists, 1537) by Gao Wu, and the
last in this tradition, the monumental Zhenjiu Dacheng
(Acupuncture and Moxibustion, the Grand Compendi-
um), written by Yang Jizhou in 1601 – a book “still of
the highest usefulness today” (Needham 1980).
Mention should also be made of the reordering of the
Huangdi Neijing, the Lei Jing (Classified Classic) by
Zhang Jiebin, which appeared in 1624; with this work,
and its illustrated appendices, the summit of Neijing
scholarship had been reached.
During the later centuries little work of influence
appeared. An exception is the Yizong Jinjian (Golden
Mirror of Medicine, 1749) by Wu Qian. It is mostly
made up of extracts, revisions, and corrections of
earlier writings. A government decree in 1822 actually
eliminated acupuncture from the medical curriculum.
And, although China’s indigenous medicine survived,
it met with disfavor from the established government
until, as late as 1929, the Guomindang banned traditional
Chinese medicine altogether. However, that same year,
Mao Zedong wrote that both Chinese and Western
medicines should be used to serve the population, and
this has been the prevailing view ever since.
Since the founding of the People’s Republic (1949)
several medical colleges have been established,
combining modern Western and traditional Chinese
medicine, and an increasing number of texts have
been reedited and published. Many new areas of
research have been opened up: acupuncture anesthesia,
ear-needling, the discovery of new points; and the
translation of texts has begun. Finally, to appreciate the
resilience and accuracy of Chinese medical texts we
can compare two extracts.
One is from the first page of the first acupuncture
book ever produced for the West (Beijing 1980):
The theory of Yin and Yang holds that every object
or phenomenon in the universe consists of two
opposite aspects, namely, Yin and Yang, which are
at once in conflict and in interdependence; further,

that this relation between Yin and Yang is the
universal law of the material world, the principle
and source of the existence of myriads of things,
and the root cause for the flourishing and perishing
of things.
The second is from the Huangdi Neijing (ca. 100 BCE):
Yin and Yang are the grand method of heaven
and earth, the rule and pattern of the ten-thousand
things, the father and mother of change and
transformation, the fundamental origin of living
and killing… (Ch. 5).
The continuously resilient nature of Chinese medical
texts could not be more clearly shown.
See also: ▶Huangdi Neijing, ▶Sun Simo, ▶Zhang
Zhongjing, ▶Li Shizhen
References
Bensoussan, A. Essentials of Chinese Acupuncture. Beijing:
Foreign Languages Press, 1980.
---. Concise Chinese–English Dictionary of Medicine.
Beijing: People’s Medical Publishing House, 1982.
---. The Vital Meridian. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone,
1992.
Fu, Weikang. The Story of Chinese Acupuncture and
Moxibustion. Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1975.
---. Traditional Chinese Medicine and Pharmacology.
Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1985.
Kaptchuk, Ted J. Chinese Medicine, The Web That Has No
Weaver. London: Rider, 1983.
Lu, Gweidjen and Joseph Needham. Celestial Lancets.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980.
O’Conner, John and Dan Bensky, trans. Acupuncture: A
Comprehensive Text. Chicago: Eastland Press, 1981.
Qiu, Mao-liang. Chinese Acupuncture and Moxibustion.
Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone, 1993.
Unschuld, Paul U. Medicine in China. California: University
of California Press, 1985.
Ware, James R., trans. Alchemy. Medicine and Religion in the
China of AD 320 (The Bao Pu Zi). New York: Dover, 1981.
---. Zhongyi Renwu Cidian (A Dictionary of Personages in
Traditional Chinese Medicine). Shanghai: Shanghai Book
Publishing Company, 1988.
Medicinal Food Plants
N INA L. E TKIN
The connection between diet and health is recognized
by all human societies, and for many, healthful eating is
a pivotal construct of their medical ideologies. How
central a role food plays in disease prevention and
therapeutics ranges along a continuum, one pole of
which represents such indefinite notions as “healthy
Medicinal food plants 1467
foods.” This is a feature of all cuisines, although which
particular foods are so regarded varies with both place
and time. Toward the other end of the continuum, more
specific explanations of the healthful nature of foods
are based both on physical characteristics or effects and
on abstract qualities.
Among the abstractions that people apply in their
assessment of medicinal foods are paradigms of
binary opposition such as heating/cooling and wet/dry,
representations of intangible qualities that are not related
to actual thermal or hydrous states. These are expres-
sions of health conceptualized as a balance between
certain key qualities that can be mediated by diet. In
China, for example, cooling foods such as carrot and
seaweed restore equilibrium in the case of rash,
constipation, and other hot disorders. This general kind
of food therapy also characterizes the medical traditions
of India, Southeast Asia, Latin America, the Near East,
parts of Africa, and much of Europe, although the
attributes ascribed to particular foods and diseases vary
across, and even within, cultures. In China these binary
oppositions intercalate with older traditions that sym-
bolize the more cosmic yin/yang philosophy, take into
account the theory of Five Phases (wuxing: earth, metal,
fire, wood, water), and address the concept of pu
(strengthening, patching up). These statements over-
simplify, but they make the point that the healthful
qualities of foods are manifold and are integrated in
complex ways into different food cultures.
M
Regarding the physical characteristics of medicinal
foods, the cultural dicta by which people interpret the
appearance, taste/smell, or physical effects of foods
are as varied as the religious beliefs, languages, marriage
customs, etc. that distinguish societies from one another.
A common link between food plants and diseases is
the taste that defines their curing properties. Consider
this complex example. The medical tradition of a Hausa
population in northern Nigeria advises that the treat-
ment of measles be aimed at several stages, beginning
with efforts to expel disease substance from the body’s
interior. As soon as the measles spots appear, bitter and
astringent foods and medicines are sought to chase out
internal sores so that the rash matures. Foods and
medicines that occur later in the therapeutic progression
are cold and aromatic because the illness likes those
qualities. In the event that nausea and fever accompany
the rash, acid/sour tastes are indicated, to calm and
cool. When there is evidence that all sores have been
externalized (that is, when other internal signs such as
fever and lymphatic inflammation have subsided), the
rash is treated with astringent and emollient medicines,
no longer with medicinal foods. In this example, taste
features prominently in the selection of medicinal foods.
Among another physical attributes by which people
identify foods for medicinal use, color, location, texture,
and shape may be evoked as part of a “doctrine of
1468 Medicinal food plants
signatures.” This fundamental tenet in plant selection
maintains that these attributes are signs of a plant’s
intended use. Some of these associations conform as
well to theories of sympathetic magic, which is based on
the idea that like affects like. Thus, for example, in US
Colonial and Chinese medical traditions, the shape of
walnut kernels suggested their effectiveness as a brain
tonic, in Taiwan red foods such as tomato, red crab, and
carrot are considered nutritious because red symbolizes
prosperity and good fortune; in several Southeast Asian
cultures, where red protects against spirits, red eggs
are used to ensure fertility; and in Ecuador the red
flowers of the amaranth plant are made into a beverage
to restore menstrual regularity and purify the blood.
That other medical traditions identify plants with red
flowers or leaves to fortify blood finds a parallel in
the US, some decades ago, when “good red meat” (beef)
defined the core of an “all American,” healthy cuisine.
Similarly, yellow plant foods are designated for such
liver disorders as jaundice in which the skin and white
of the eye take on a yellowish tone, and plants whose
leaves are shaped by several lobes are used in the
treatment of lung disorders. These associations are not
as simple as outlined here, because although appear-
ance and other physical attributes are presented as the
primary distinguishing feature of certain medicinal
foods, they are understood to protect or interfere with
disease processes in variable and complicated ways that
bear on other characteristics that different medical
cultures describe through such metaphors as “strength,”
“neutralization,” and the like.
By the same token, foods also have negative health
connotations, many of which have been systematically
codified as food taboos, the symbolism of which is
especially rich. Food prohibitions play a pivotal role in the
traditional medicine of Thailand where there are five
general taboo units: meats (cow, water buffalo, pig, and
chicken; frogs and scaleless fish); seafood; pickled food;
and certain vegetables (cucumber, gourd, and jackfruit).
Further, specific foods and beverages are prohibited in
particular conditions, and specific tastes such as sweet, fat,
and sour are additionally proscribed in certain instances –
for example, sour is discouraged because it is understood
to result in the accumulation of pus, which should be
avoided when one is treated for wounds. Similarly, for
Hausa in Nigeria, food plants (e.g., okra, cat’s whiskers)
that are otherwise appreciated for the gelatinous quality
they impart to soup, are avoided when one has congestion
from flu, and in the case of certain backaches that are
understood to be caused by an accumulation of phlegm
within the body. For altogether different associations,
Hausa understand that peanuts aggravate leprosy and
offset the effect of medicines for anemia.
The cultural and social aspects of medicinal foods
are especially apparent in circumstances in which their
consumption extends beyond the sick person to include
others. Among the Nekematigi of New Guinea, for
instance, ceremonial therapeutic meals are shared by
the entire community and consist of all purpose
medicinal foods – ginger, for example – that are
intrinsically healthful regardless of the cause of illness,
and specific antidotes against the acts of enemy sorcery
that account for most sickness in this society and that
always originate from outside the village. If the illness
persists, the meal is repeated, again involving the
community and thus reaffirming solidarity in the face
of malevolence introduced from outside the social
body. Conversely, for Nigerian Hausa, whereas healthy
foods such as fish and peanuts are shared among family
members who eat from the same pot, specific medicinal
foods are consumed only by the sick person. In other
medical traditions the healer and patient consume the
medicinal foods, usually at the same time, both to
cement the therapeutic relationship and to empower the
healer’s empathy toward the patient.
Since people everywhere recognize the relationship
between a mother’s health and that of her nursing
infant, one is not surprised to find, as among Hausa,
that when a baby is ill, medicinal foods are also
consumed by the mother, and exclusively so if the
infant has not yet begun to eat solid foods. And on the
Western Pacific island Espiritu Santo (Vanuatu,
formerly New Hebrides), food taboos for children
who have become ill as a result of malevolent magic are
extended to the parents. The general point made here is
that the consumption of medicinal foods occurs in a
variety of social contexts that range cross-culturally
along a continuum of inclusiveness with respect to
patients, their families, and their communities.
The interpretation of these cultural expressions by
social and health scientists has largely replicated a
central idiom in Western thought – i.e., that food and
medicine are separable categories. This is apparent, for
example, in studies that inventory medicinal or food
plants, overlooking the possibility that plants are not
simply one or the other. In this way, whether or not a
food is considered healthful depends on its intrinsic
nutritional value. For the first half of the twentieth
century nutrition scientists concentrated on identifying
the nutrients that help the body’s immune system
fight infectious disease and whose deficiencies result in
such discrete disorders as scurvy (vitamin C), rickets
and osteomalacia (calcium, vitamin D), and beriberi
(thiamin). (This can be related to the Chinese example
above through observation that insufficiency of the
vitamins found in carrots and other cooling vegetables
typically eventuate in skin disorders.)
During the latter 1900s nutritional scientists focused
on foods linked to chronic disorders, some revealing
negative associations: foods high in salt, sugar, and fat

have been implicated in hypertension, diabetes, and car-
diovascular disorders, respectively. Conversely, other
nutrients have healthful effects on chronic diseases:
dietary fiber – such as provided by whole-grain cereals,
fruit skins, vegetables, legumes, and nuts – has been
linked to diminished risk of colorectal and stomach
cancers, high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholester-
ol, atherosclerosis, and coronary heart disease. Vitamin
A – present in yellow and orange fruits and vegetables
(carrots, bell pepper) and dark green leafy vege-
tables (spinach, kale) – has been reported to protect
against lung and prostate cancers and to decrease the
severity of measles. Vitamin E (found mostly in green
leafy vegetables) and C (high in fruit, especially citrus)
both have been linked to lower cancer risks as well.
In sum, to date the frame of reference has been the
nutritional composition of medicinal foods, and apart
from the conventional nutrients – vitamins, minerals,
protein – foods have been regarded as chemically inert,
thus of no salience to specific disease processes. But
foods are not chemically mundane. Most people are
aware of toxins in potentially nutritious foods, so why
not drugs? The line between toxin and medicine is in
any case an uncertain one – toxic in what dose, and for
whom? Many of the toxic “secondary” metabolites
produced by plants are a primary defense against fungi
and bacteria, microorganisms not unlike the patho-
gens with which human societies contend. According-
ly, people have taken advantage of these characteristics
of plants, in some cases modifying that chemistry
through selective breeding and special planting of food
plants to exaggerate certain features and to reduce or
eliminate others.
In view of this, a more recent development in
medicinal food study is to focus on the drug-like
qualities of plants. Attention has been paid especially to
spices, perhaps because their role in the early history of
Western medicine has made this category of plants the
more likely subject of pharmacologic inquiry. In a
biomedicine so strongly informed by the germ theory
of disease, the antimicrobial action of many spices
merits attention; and because spices – like pharmaceu-
ticals – are small (in quantity) and powerful (in
smell, taste), they fit an allopathic model of healing.
Evidence for pharmacologic activity in spices includes:
capsaicin in chili pepper diminishes risk of cluster
headaches and stomach cancer; sulfides in garlic and
onion inhibit blood clotting and promote cardiovascu-
lar integrity; West African black pepper has anticon-
vulsant activity; ginger is effective in the treatment of
motion sickness and nausea; cricetine in saffron has
antiatherosclerotic activity; vanillin and catechin in
vanilla have, respectively, liver protective and anti-
cariogenic actions; and caffeine, theophylline, and
theobromine in chocolate elevate mood.
Medicinal food plants 1469
More recently attention has been directed as well to
more ordinary foods: sulforaphane in broccoli protects
against certain cancers; gamma-amino butyric acid in
tomatoes is hypotensive; rhubarb has antibacterial
activity; epicatechin gallate from tea leaves lowers
serum cholesterol; and pigeon pea is helpful in
diminishing the symptoms of sickle cell anemia.
These catalogs offer only an incomplete story of the
medicinal potential of food, since much of what is
reported is based only on laboratory studies of purified
substances and/or on animal studies using healthy
subjects. Thus, although some medicine-like action
may be confirmed, one cannot be certain that this will
indeed be the outcome when the plants are ingested by
sick humans. One gains more insight by considering
food use in its broadest physiological and cultural
contexts, in order to take into account preparation and
incidence and quantity of consumption.
In many traditional societies the same plants are used
as both food and medicine, their function and
preparation depending on how they are identified for
a specified context of use. Over the last two decades,
anthropologists have been especially adroit in detailing
how foods and medicines overlap. This is significant on
at least two levels. First we recognize that the use of
plants in more than one context extends the range
across which people are exposed to active constituents.
Second, we begin to appreciate how very complex
human–environment interactions are. For the latter it
M
signifies that foods tend to be prepared in ways that
diminish the risk of toxicity, especially cooking,
thereby allowing the consumption of otherwise poten-
tially dangerous foods in relatively large volume and at
regular intervals. The same plants intended for drug use
may be prepared differently – neutralizing pharmaco-
logically active constituents only partially or not at all –
and are consumed in small quantities, allowing the
action of toxin against pathogen or symptom without
overwhelming the human host.
Hausa people of northern Nigeria are a case in point
that food plants overlap conspicuously with medicines.
Ninety-six per cent of the 119 plants that one Hausa
village identify as foods number as well among the 374
plants that make up the local pharmacopoeia. Hausa
clearly distinguish foods from medicines by parts used,
preparation, and, especially, intended outcome (nutri-
tive or preventive/therapeutic). Further, Hausa have
much more to say regarding the healthful qualities of a
medicine compared to a food. While medicines address
specific symptoms, dislodge phlegm, expel spirits, and
so on, foods simply strengthen, fortify blood, or
promote growth. Extending overlapping use beyond
foods and medicines reveals that all of the 20 plants
used cosmetically have medicinal uses, five are foods
as well; of the 16 plants used in personal hygiene, all
1470 Medicinal food plants
are used as medicines, six are foods, and three are
cosmetics. The point, again, is that attention to the
different contexts of plant use accounts most fully for
the range of people’s exposure to the drug-like actions
of botanicals.
An interesting question is raised in the rank ordering
of use: medicine first or food first? These are not, of
course, mutually exclusive positions; pharmacopoeias
and cuisines are created in increments, not all at once,
so that one pattern or another may apply for a given
plant. A sizeable number of plants used today as food
were first appreciated for their medicinal qualities.
Throughout the Andes and Mesoamerica the ritual and
medicinal uses of red amaranth pigments were once
more common than the use of these plants as a source
of food grain. In the Mediterranean and Near East
licorice was domesticated for medicinal use (it has
estrogenic and antimicrobial activities), as were a
variety of other plants that are used today as flavorings.
Soybeans and Mo-er (black tree fungus) of Chinese
cuisines were first cultivated as medicines. The latter
demonstrates the kind of antiplatelet activity that might
provide protection against atherosclerosis. In light of
the especially uncertain distinction between medicine
and food in Asian cultures, other plants also are likely
to have been cultivated first as medicine. Drawing
attention again to Hausa in Nigeria, a significant number
of their wild plant foods have been “identified” first as
medicines. This is revealed by the inventory of Hausa
medicinal plants, which is considerably more inclusive
of local flora than lists of Hausa foods and other useful
plants; the list of medicines includes all plants from
those other categories, whereas the reverse is not the
case. Hausa oral tradition further reinforces the primacy
of medicinal use over food use for some plants. This
perspective cannot be applied wholesale to all societies,
since the cultural and environmental circumstances
under which pharmacopoeias and cuisines are created
involve different patterns of need and knowledge about
particular plants. But this does challenge a conventional,
unidirectional view that people learn about medicines
only secondary to their search for food.
A comprehensive perspective on plant use better
characterizes the interconnected histories of human
food and medicine, and accommodates both nonfood
first and food first models to explain the development
of botanical knowledge. Thus, whereas it is customary
to talk about the “traditional” medicines and foods of a
people, region, or religion, in fact therapeutics and diet
are dynamic. Transformations in the content and intent
of medicines and diet are shaped in part by shifting
concerns with health.
Today, in the West, an analogue to medicinal
foods exists in the growing popularity of food supple-
ments. This term is apprehended by the consuming
public as a range of products that include conventional
supplements (e.g., vitamins) and extend as well to a
great diversity of plant and animal products. The
popularity of these products bears on several interre-
lated issues – dissatisfaction with biomedicine and the
search for holistic and natural medicines; patients’
seeking agency in their own health care; and the
commodification of health and healing.
Finally, a timely issue relates the topic of medicinal
foods to concern with environmental protection.
Contemporary debates on the preservation of global
biodiversity have focused on plants that develop-
ment planners and national polities identify to be at
risk. This cross cuts other international efforts directed at
alleviating or preventing the effects of famines and
lesser food shortages. Collectively these programs
highlight staple foods in their efforts to assure that
“important” and varied foods are available to the world’s
peoples, or that other “interesting” plants are preserved
for their potential contribution to the pharmaceutical
industry of the West. Thus, Western scientific paradigms
and various economic and political agendas have been
instrumental in shaping the direction of environmental
protection and restoration efforts. These programs
should be credited with the results achieved to date,
as well as with their more recent inclusion of local
populations in the planning of sustained efforts. In light
of the present discussion of medicinal foods, one might
wish to add certain refinements that assure that local
cognitive categories and the specific contexts of plant use
are given attention, including an examination of what the
existing or restored diversity affords in human cultural
terms. More specifically, to the extent that the same plants
serve dietary and medicinal objectives, their significance
to local populations is greater than what development
planners might have considered; additional contexts of
use elevate the local value of those plants even further.
References
Brunn, Viggo and Trond Schumacher. Traditional Herbal
Medicine in Northern Thailand. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1987.
Etkin, Nina L. ed. Plants in Indigenous Medicine and Diet:
Biobehavioral Approaches. New York: Gordon and Breach
Science Publishers (Redgrave), 1986.
---. Eating on the Wild Side: The Pharmacologic, Ecologic,
and Social Implications of Using Noncultigens. Tucson:
University of Arizona Press, 1994.
Johns, Timothy. The Origins of Human Diet and Medicine.
Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996.
National Research Council. 1989. Diet and Health: Implica-
tions for Reducing Chronic Disease Risk. Washington, DC:
National Academy Press.
Prendergast, H. D. V., N. L. Etkin, D. R. Harris, and P. J.
Houghton eds. Plants for Food and Medicine. Kew: Royal
Botanic Garden, 1998.
Simoons, Frederick J. Food in China: A Cultural and
Historical Inquiry. Boca Raton, Florida: CRC Press, 1991.

Medicine and Colonialism in India
R ANÈS C. C HAKRAVORTY
Ancient India
The Indian subcontinent was well inhabited by the first
millennium BCE. The inhabited territory extended west
into areas that today are in Pakistan and Afghanistan.
These ancient Indians had a well-developed system of
medicine termed Āyurveda (The Science of Life).
Ayurvedic physicians practiced medicine and to a
lesser extent, surgery. The system and its practitioners
were held in high regard and Indian physicians are
known to have been in the courts of the Muslim rulers.
Some of the Ayurvedic texts were translated into
Arabic early in the history of Islam.
The basic thrust of Colonialism is to exploit the
colonized for the benefit of the colonizers. Usually after
a long period of colonization the two groups come to a
situation of better parity. Both these phenomena are
well illustrated in the colonization of India.
Muslim Invasion
From the early eighth century, India was invaded by the
Muslim kings ruling in the west across the Himalayas.
Initially these Muslim pockets were small and often short-
lived. By the twelfth century, a Muslim kingdom had
been established in Delhi, though the ruler(s) recognized
their western center outside India as the capital. By the
thirteenth century Muslim occupation in India had
become permanent, and ultimately the Muslim rulers
assimilated into the Indian culture. The Turk, Babur,
established his capital in Delhi in 1526, though it was not
until his grandson, Akbar (1556–1605) ruled, that the
Mughals considered themselves Indians. The Muslims
had brought with them the Islamic system of medicine,
Unani or Tibbi, based largely on translations of Greek
Medicine. However, Āyurveda was also in use, not only
in the Hindu population, but also among the Muslims.
With the arrival of the Europeans, European physi-
cians also practiced in India though in small numbers.
From the time of Shahjehan, Akbar's grandson, some
European physicians are known to have practiced in
royal courts. Thus, Niccolo Manucci (1639–1717) was
an artilleryman to Shah Jahan's eldest son Dara Shukoh.
He later took up the profession of medicine (even though
untrained) and practiced both professions (!) in various
royal courts. Manucci's memoirs name some other
European physicians practicing in India. François
Bernier, a Frenchman with a medical degree from
Montpellier, served Dara Shukoh and later his brother,
the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb (Majumdar et al. 1994).
Medicine and Colonialism in India 1471
European Colonization
Portuguese
From the middle of the sixteenth century, European
nations turned their eyes eastward for territorial
expansion and trade. The Muslims had established
themselves in the Middle East from today's Syria
southwards to Egypt and across North Africa to the
southern half of Spain. Trade with India and further East
had become dangerous and expensive. There was also
the need to spread Christianity.
The first to arrive in India was the Portuguese Vasco
da Gama who landed at Calicut (now Kozhikhode)
in southwest India on 20 May 1498. By 1510 the
Portuguese had an established presence in Goa on the
west coast. Goa remained a Portuguese possession until
1949 when it joined the Republic of India. In the
450 years of its association with Portugal, Goa became
a medical center of sorts. It had the oldest European-
style hospital and medical school in the East.
The Royal Hospital was started in 1510 and by
about 1546 western medicine was being taught. The
Hospital was fully supported by the Portuguese rulers
and was a showpiece in its time. The continuing rivalry
between the Dutch and the Portuguese, however, caused
a decline in Goa's prosperity and the Hospital started to
decline by the mid-seventeenth century. In order to have
a cadre of assistant physicians, non-Portuguese natives
were taught the rudiments of medicine.
Some Portuguese physicians and apothecaries traveled
M
to Goa and some even stayed behind. The most
prominent among them was Garcia d'Orta. A converted
Jew, Garcia d'Orta was born to Jewish parents who had
been expelled from Spain in 1492. They were converted
to Catholicism but were always looked down upon.
D'Orta studied medicine in Spanish universities and
returned to Portugal in 1523. He then joined the faculty
at the medical school in Lisbon. In 1534 he left for
Goa with his friend, who was to become the Governor-
General of Goa and the Portuguese territories in India.
D'Orta became a very successful practitioner, not
only for the rich Portuguese in Goa, but also for the
rulers of neighboring Hindu and Muslim kingdoms.
(Other Portuguese physicians also became court
physicians and many rich Indians came to Goa for
treatment.) D'Orta is remembered today for his book
Coloquios dos Simples e Drogas da India – an Indian
materia medica, which was published in 1563, in the
first printing press in India. The book gained great
renown and was very popular in Europe. D'Orta died in
1568, probably quite poor as the Catholic hierarchy had
turned against him. His bones were burnt at an auto-da-
fe in the cathedral in Goa some years after his death.
D'Orta remains the first author of a western-style
medical book from India.
A woman medical doctor, Dona Juliana, came to Goa
and later on moved to the court of the Great Mughal
1472 Medicine and Colonialism in India

Akbar. Nicolau Manucci, mentioned above, came and

practiced in Goa for a short while but was then thrown
out by the authorities.
Around 1842 a formal medical school, Escola Medico-
Cirurgica de Nova Goa was established in Goa. The
number of graduates (strictly limited to Christians) from
this school was never very high, though many of
them went on to achieve professional distinction in
Goa, in India and in the Portuguese territories elsewhere
(Pandya 1982). The school was discontinued at the time
of Goa's admission to the Republic of India.
Following the Portuguese, the French, the Dutch,
and the Danes established trading centers in India. The
latter two countries had undistinguished and short stays
in India. The French remained in Chandernagore,
Pondicherry, Mahe, Yaman, and Karikal, all isolated
enclaves until Indian independence in 1947. During
this period they had no significant medical establish-
ments either as medical schools or hospitals.

British
Starting with small trading posts in the seventeenth
century, the British ultimately occupied all of the Indian
subcontinent and the history of colonial medicine in
India is almost exclusively that of the development of
medicine during British rule (1857–1947).
Medical practices under the British will be described
in two phases. The first was under the East India
Company, the next under the British crown as a part of
the Empire.
Phase 1: The East India Company
The East India Company was a profit-making body
administered by local administrators in India. In theory
the Board of Governors in England were responsible
for the supervision with some generally minimal
oversight by the British Parliament. Under the Compa-
ny, fortune making and profiteering were rampant and
generally tolerated. Only a very few people were ever
brought to justice in the courts or impeached in the
Parliament. The entire western-style medical setup was
for the British, largely the armed forces; the native
population depended upon the indigenous medical
systems.
Each ship coming to India had a (naval) surgeon
on board.1 They sometimes deserted (often without
punishment when captured), settled as surgeons to the
trading settlements on land and not infrequently fought
as soldiers in the many and frequent battles between the
Medicine and Colonialism in India. Fig. 1 The tombstone
and epitah (in English and Arabic) of William Hamilton in
St. John’s church, Kolkata, India (Photograph by author).
British, the French (the Carnatic and Mysore Wars),2
and the native Indians.
While a number of the naval surgeons were of great
service to the British, two are of special interest,
signifying different aspects of the duties of the navy
surgeon. William Hamilton of Dalziel in Scotland is
hardly remembered today Fig. 1. However his epitaph
(still to be seen in the graveyard of St John's Church in
Kolkata, India) states “…his Memory ought to be dear
to this Nation for the Credit he gained ye English in
curing FERRUKSEER the present king of Indostan…
by which he made his own name famous at the court of
that great monarch; and without doubt will perpetuate
his Memory in Great Britain as well as in all other
Nations of Europe.” Hamilton was apparently trained
as a surgeon and did not have a university degree in
medicine. He was attached to the small Company
trading post in Calcutta. The Company had been trying
to get a firman or permit to carry on trading with the
local populace under advantageous terms and lowered
customs duties. The Company sent a delegation to the
Surman Embassy to the court of Farrukhshiyar, the
reigning Mughal monarch in Delhi. On arrival at Delhi,
the delegation found that Farrukhshiyar was seriously
ill with infected lymph nodes in the groin. He had been

1 2
The training and career of a naval surgeon of the times The Carnatic and Mysore Wars were fought in the latter
are well detailed in The Adventures of Roderick Random half of the eighteenth century by the British against the
(1748) by Tobias Smollett (1721–1778) who was himself Marathas, rulers of Mysore, and the French to establish
a physician trained at the University of Aberdeen. British power in southern India.

treated by the court (native) physicians unsuccessfully.
Hamilton treated the emperor (apparently lancing the
boils) which resulted in rapid recovery. The emperor
also had an anal fistula that Hamilton successfully
treated.
The grateful monarch issued a firman in favor of the
British, munificently rewarded the young surgeon, and
wanted him permanently in his employ. Hamilton died
soon thereafter and was buried in the Company
cemetery in Fort William, Calcutta (Wilson 1911).
John Zephania Holwell (1711–1798) was quite a
different type of physician. Born to well-established
parents (his father was a timber merchant in London)
Holwell studied in England and Holland and trained as
a surgeon in Guy's Hospital, London. He came to India
in 1732 and to Calcutta, which had the most important
British factory in India, in 1736.
In 1756 the British settlement in Calcutta was
attacked by Siraj-ud-Dowlah, the ruler of Bengal. The
Governor left the Fort with all the ladies and most of
the men for a safe refuge on the river Ganges. Holwell
remained as the governor of the fort, put up a stiff fight,
was defeated and captured. He with the 156 other
captives was put in a small chamber termed the “Black
Hole.” Only 23 survived the night (Holwell's descrip-
tion of this event has been seriously criticized. Probably
the numbers reported were exaggerated though the
confinement did happen. A monument erected by
Holwell to recall the event was later removed but can
still be seen at the back of St John's Church.)
Holwell became the temporary Governor of Bengal
after Robert Clive's return to England and finally
returned to England in 1761. He wrote a number of
books on his experience, knew a number of languages
including Arabic, and was one of the first to study
Hindu antiquities.
Phase 2: The British Raj
In 1857, there was a revolt by some of the Indian
regiments and Indian rulers against the East India
Company. Known variously as the Sepoy Mutiny
(by the British) and the First War of Independence (by
the Indians) the immediate result of this conflict (which
the British won) was the takeover of the Indian
territories by the British Government. The Government
sent representatives of the Crown (Governor Generals)
to rule over the Indian territories.
Even though the Government was mainly geared to
British interests, there was some beginning interchange
between the Indians (mainly the Hindus) and the
British rulers. Calcutta remained the capital and the seat
of government (until 1911) so most of the action
occurred there (Bala 1991; Arnold 2000).
With the establishment of the Raj, the early British
officials were very interested in native customs and
learning. In 1776, (Sir) William Jones, a superb linguist,
Medicine and Colonialism in India 1473
and a Judge of the Calcutta High Court, established the
Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal with the support of
the Government specifically for oriental studies and
research. Both he, Warren Hastings, and other high-
ranking officials encouraged the study of the Indian
systems, and this helped establish the Calcutta Madras-
sah for the study of Arabic and Persian and the Sanskrit
Colleges of Calcutta and Benares for the study of Arabic
(Majumdar et al. 1979).
Because of the lack of practitioners trained in Western
medicine, the local British physicians would train their
assistants for 1 or 2 years and then certify them as being
capable of practicing western medicine indepen-
dently. In order to increase the number of better-trained
medical practitioners and the number of assistants to
the European physicians, the Government started a
Native Medical Institution in 1824 in Calcutta (and later
in Bombay) mainly to produce assistants, dressers, etc.
Auxiliary Medical sections were also established at
the Sanskrit College in Calcutta where Āyurveda was
taught together with some western medicine. (A hospital
with 30 beds was started for these students in 1830.) At
the Calcutta Madrassah, rudiments of western medicine
were taught together with Unani or Tibbi – the Arabic
medical system. The western system had a therapeutic
armamentarium that was possibly inferior to the native
systems. Its nosology (classification of diseases) was
different but not much better; the main difference was in
the study of human anatomy by dissection and surgery
M
(without anesthesia).
A Bengal Medical Service had been started in
1763 – similar provincial services started in Madras
and Bombay. Membership was limited to the British for
many years and when Indians started to be admitted to
the Indian Medical Service they were usually assistant
or subassistant surgeons. Created to serve the needs of
the Empire, the IMS had a prime responsibility to the
armed forces and military matters; service to civilians
was secondary.
Arrangements for the institutionalized treatment of
the employees of the East India Company and the
soldiers and sailors had existed from the beginning at
the three main British centers – Calcutta, Madras, and
Bombay. Madras had a hospital since 1664. A hospital
for Europeans was started near St John's Church in
Calcutta in 1707. In 1768 a General Hospital for other
Europeans (including indigents) and visiting European
sailors was started in Calcutta. This Presidency General
Hospital still exists.
Lord William Bentinck was the Governor-General
from 1828 to 1835. He was convinced that education
was to be Europeanized. In 1835 the Native Medical
Institution and the medical sections of the Sanskrit
College and Calcutta Madrassah were abolished. The
Bengal Medical College was opened in Calcutta with
three British and one Indian faculty (Anon 1935). The
1474 Medicine and Colonialism in India
Indian, Madhusudan Gupta had been a student (and later
a teacher) of the Vaidyaka Sreni or medical section of the
Sanskrit College. A remarkable person in all respects,
Gupta initiated cadaver dissection in 1836 (Chakravorty
1997) Fig. 2. In 1857, with the establishment of the
University of Calcutta, the College changed its name to
the Calcutta Medical College. The Madras Medical
College also started in 1835. Amongst other achieve-
ments, this institution was the first to formally train
women in medicine. The Grant Medical College of
Bombay was started in 1845.
Women
The first special attention paid to native women by the
British physicians followed a law enacted in Britain.
From 1805 to 1833 and again from 1868 to 1880,
venereally infected prostitutes and soldiers were kept in
“lock hospitals.” Christian women missionaries from
the west played a large role in looking upon native
women's health, although the main object was probably
conversion to Christianity (Balfour 1929). The first was
Clara Swain, who in 1869 established the American
Methodist Episcopalian Mission in Bareilly. Here she
also trained Indian women in nursing and midwifery.
Many women missionaries came from Great Britain,
Canada, and the United States to render service to native
women and men.
Ida Scudder, an alumna of Cornell University
Medical School, opened a medical college and hospital
for women in Vellore, Madras Province. In 1945 the
Medicine and Colonialism in India. Fig. 2 Painting by
Madhusudan Gupta by Mrs. Belnos in the Anatomy
Department, Medical College, Kolkata, India
(Photograph by author).
college was opened to men also. Today it is the biggest
Christian hospital in the world and one of the best-
teaching institutions in the country. India was a haven
for women medical graduates from the British Isles.
They had problems in being accepted in Great Britain
but had much better opportunities in India.
A specialized case was that of Lady Dufferin's Fund
(Lal 1994). Initiated by the wife of the Viceroy, Lord
Dufferin, this organization collected donations to start
hospitals for women and train nurses and midwives.
Though always short of funds, the Fund played a
significant role in women's health care. It also helped
establish the Lady Hardinge Medical College for
Women in Delhi in 1916.
As in all other countries, women had difficulty
in receiving formal education in medicine. Among
the first woman physicians of India was the English
woman (Dame), Mary Scharlieb who was the wife
of a prominent lawyer of Madras. Her husband's family
was well known to the Governor and the Superin-
tendent of the General Hospital in Madras. She first
took courses in midwifery but later with three other
Anglo-Indian ladies was allowed to attend classes and
sit for the final Licentiate examination in 1878. Of her
colleagues, Dora White became a physician to the
Nizam's Government in Hyderabad and D'Abreu (who
had come to Madras as she had not obtained admission
in Calcutta) became a medical missionary. She later
returned to England and became very well known as a
physician.
The first Indian woman to graduate was Kadambini
(Basu) Ganguli (1861–1923). She was the first woman
to get the Bachelor's degree at Calcutta University
(together with Bidhumukhi Bose). She obtained her
licentiate from Calcutta University in 1886. Later she
went to Great Britain and obtained degrees from
Glasgow and Edinburgh. She was a very successful
practitioner of medicine, obstetrics and gynecology,
and surgery.
Anand(a)ibai Joshi of Pune graduated from the
Women's Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1886.
She returned to practice in India in charge of the
Female Ward of the Civil Hospital in Kolhapur,
Maharastra, but died of tuberculosis soon thereafter.
Diseases, Public Health, and Research
India has its own spectrum of diseases, many of which
were unknown to westerners. I will discuss only three
of the most devastating.
Malaria had been a devastating disease in India and
the countries around the Mediterranean for centuries.
Because of the lethality of malarial fever, the British
Indian authorities had established a Fever Commission
(of which Madhusudan Gupta – see above) was a
member. Later “Burdwan fever” – a malignant febrile
illness, generated a great deal of discussion, without

any effective resolution of its nature and treatment. The
use of Jesuit's Bark, Cinchona (quinine), was known
and in fact had been used by Ayurvedic physicians
since 1860. However it was not until Ronald Ross
(1857–1932) working in the Presidency General
Hospital in Calcutta established the life cycle of the
malarial parasite in the mosquito that the disease was
finally understood. Born in India and educated in
England, Ross joined the Indian Medical Service in
1881. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1902. He left
India for England in 1901 and died there in 1932.
In 1859, the prevalence of infectious diseases and a
high mortality amongst Europeans in India had resulted
in the formation of a Royal Sanitary Commission with
Dr John Snow (who had written the book On the Mode
of Communication of Cholera in 1855) as its chairman.
In 1863 a Commission was setup to inquire into the
Cholera Epidemic of 1861 in Northern India. With
Robert Koch's identification of the causative organism
in the water of a reservoir in Calcutta in 1884, the
possibility of controlling cholera through sanitary
measures became practicable. (Koch became a Nobel
Laureate in 1905.)
Smallpox had been a devastating disease all across
the world for centuries. Variolation – the introduction
of live smallpox from a patient to a healthy person by
scarification had been used for immunization for
centuries. The Indian Medical Service accepted and
used this method till the discovery of vaccination (the
introduction of cow pox by scarification) by Edward
Jenner (1749–1823) in 1796. Both variolation and
vaccination were used in India for immunization for a
while until the Smallpox Commission in 1850 stated
that the latter was superior and safer than the former.
Research
Though Ronald Ross was the physician to get the
highest accolades, the members of the Indian Medical
Service carried on investigations into common local
diseases. In later years some Indians (outside the IMS)
also became well known for their research findings. Thus
Sir U. N. Brahmachari discovered the cure for Kala-
Azar (Leishmaniasis), and Sir K. N. Das was a pioneer
obstetrician who wrote a classic text on the discovery,
development, and use of the obstetric forceps.
In the 190 years of British occupation of India, the
relationship between the colonizer and the colonized
had equalized considerably. In 1887, Dr R. G. Kar and
colleagues started the Carmichael Medical College as
the first non-Government Medical College in the
country. Today the R. G. Kar Medical College is
one of the prime teaching and research institutions in
the country. In the earlier half of the twentieth century,
the medical programs in the country were more and
more in the hands of the Indians, though postgraduate
education abroad, especially in the British Isles was
Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka 1475
almost mandated for a teaching position and even
for successful private practice. Indian physicians
today occupy many prestigious chairs outside India,
especially in English-speaking countries. This is one of
the legacies of colonial medicine in India.
References3
Anon. Centenary of the Calcutta Medical College. Calcutta:
Calcutta Medical College, 1935.
Arnold, David. Science, Technology and Medicine in Colonial
India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.
Bala, Poonam. Imperialism and Medicine in Bengal: A Socio-
Historical Perspective. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publica-
tions, 1991.
Balfour, Margaret and Ruth Young. The Work of Medical
Women in India. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1929.
Chakravorty, Ranès C. Doctors, Nurses and Medical Practi-
tioners. A Biobibliographical Sourcebook. Ed. Lois N.
Magner. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1997. 150–5.
Lal, Maneesha. The Politics of Gender and Medicine
in Colonial India: The Countess of Dufferin's Fund,
1885–1888. Bulletin of the History of Medicine 68.1 (Mar.
1994): 29–66.
Majumdar, R. C., A. D. Pusalker, and A. K. Majumdar, ed.
The History and Culture of Indian People. Struggle for
Empire. Vol. V. Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1979.
Majumdar, R. C., J. N. Chaudhuri, and S. Chaudhuri, ed. The
History and Culture of Indian People. The Mughul Empire.
Vol. VII. 3rd ed. Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1994.
Pandya, S. K. Medicine in Goa – A Former Portuguese
Territory. Journal of Postgraduate Medicine 28 (1982): M
123–48.
Wilson, C. R. The Early Annals of the English in Bengal.
Surman Embassy. Vol. II. Part II. Calcutta: The Asiatic
Society, 1911. xl–xlv (Chapter VI).
Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka
S OMA H EWA
It is generally accepted that Western medicine introduced
by European colonizers and missionaries saved millions
of lives in Africa, Asia, and the Americas (Comaroff and
Comaroff, 1992). In this context, Western medicine
represented a higher civilization and social order that
lifted people to modern ways of life. David Livingstone,
known for his religious zealotry, chose a medical career to
heal the suffering of Africans: “In the glow of love which
Christianity inspires, I soon resolved to devote my life to
the alleviation of human misery… and therefore set
myself to obtain a medical education, in order to be
qualified for that enterprise” (Livingstone 1858; Moffat
3
A number of publications in Bengali have significant
information on this subject. They have not been mentioned
here.
1476 Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka
1969). Medical missionaries believed that the eradication
of fatal diseases among the indigenous people would
encourage the “heathens” to embrace Christianity.
Commenting on the effort to establish a public health
department in India by the British colonial government in
the mid-nineteenth century, Florence Nightingale ob-
served that “it was not only a noble task but also a part of a
mission to bring a higher civilization into India” (Cook
1914). Even though Western medicine was regarded as an
integral part of culture, medical services were rarely
extended to the masses without reservations.
Several studies have argued that medicine and
medical services in the colonies evolved in response
to political and economic needs of Western imperial-
ism. They suggest that medicine played a critical role in
the expansion of imperialism in the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries (Headrick 1981; Arnold
1988). Medicine, as it was introduced to non-Western
societies by imperial forces, was an instrument of
political, economic, and cultural domination. With the
expansion of European colonialism in Asia, Africa, and
Latin America, the threat of “tropical disease” became a
major obstacle to colonial rule. New medical sciences
were developed to deal with diseases such as cholera,
malaria, dysentery, and yellow fever for the protection
of the European troops and administrators from
diseases originating in the indigenous communities
(Kavadi 1999). Radhika Ramasubban, who has done an
extensive analysis of the origin and the development of
Western medicine in British India, suggests that the
main concern of British colonial policy was to protect
the health of the British army and the European civilian
population living in India. As a result, colonial medical
policy in India created medical “enclaves,” leading to
the exclusion of local populations. Such policies were
justified by the colonial administrators who contended
that the Indians were “superstitious and backward,” and
would not accept modern medicine even if it were
offered (Ramasubban 1988).
In the larger context of colonial rule, medicine and
medical services were important political and psycho-
logical tools that bolstered the colonial grip over local
populations.
1. It became clear that the health of the European
personnel, particularly members of the military,
could not be protected by measures directed at them
alone when there were epidemic diseases among the
native populations (Worboys 1988; Turshen 1984).
2. The increased trade and political interactions with
the colonies led to a heavy traffic of people and
materials across the continents. As a result, the
increased vulnerability of Europe itself to epidemic
diseases stemming from the tropics became a matter
of concern (May 1958).
3. The supply of raw materials for the industries in
Europe and North America were dependent upon the
productivity of the colonial labor force. Therefore, to
sustain the capitalist economic development in the
West it was necessary to improve the productivity of
the people in the colonies (Emmanuel 1982).
4. The expansion of the market and future investments
by the industrialized countries in these colonies
were dependent upon the receptiveness of the masses
to Western cultural and social values. Hence, the
ability of Western medicine to eradicate diseases in
these societies would “reduce the cultural autonomy
of the agrarian people and make them amenable” to
Western values and life-styles (Brown 1976).
Against the background of these recent interpreta-
tions of the role of medicine in colonial rule, we examine
the impact of British colonial economic policies on the
health of the colonial labor force in the plantation sector
of Sri Lanka (formerly known as Ceylon) as a case study.
The laissez-faire policy of the colonial government
enabled the British planters to ignore even the most basic
sanitary requirements such as latrines on the plantations
in order to maximize profit. As a result, the plantations
became breeding grounds for many parasitic and
infectious diseases found on the island during the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. When the
International Health Board (hereafter IHB) of the
Rockefeller Foundation arrived in Sri Lanka in 1916
to set up a hookworm control campaign, there was an
epidemic of hookworm infection on the plantations and
the neighboring villages.
Historical Background
The British captured the Kandyan Kingdom of Sri
Lanka in 1815, slaughtering thousands of natives
and destroying scores of villages (Marshall 1846).
Dr. Henry Marshall, a senior medical officer of the
89th Regiment that led the war against the Kandyan
Kingdom, wrote that “the incursions of our troops into
the Kandyan territory... were calculated to fill the
population with the most unfavorable opinions of our
justice and humanity, and to confirm the worst
prejudices against the European race.” As Marshall
predicted, the bitterness of the war persisted among the
Kandyan Sinhalese for a long time. When the British
established plantation industries in central Sri Lanka
during the mid-nineteenth century, the Kandyans
refused to work on the estates. To fill this deficit,
laborers were brought from the southern Indian state of
Tamil Nadu for the year-round work in the plantation
industry. Unlike in other British colonies, such as
Mauritius and the West Indies, where the Indian labor
had been employed since the early nineteenth century,
the colonial government never directly participated in
the recruitment of Indian estate labor for Sri Lanka. The
authorities maintained that Sri Lanka was close enough
to India to leave such recruitment to private economic

enterprises (Kodikara 1965). The estates’ agents, or
Kanganies, recruited the laborers in India. The number
of laborers recruited gradually increased with the
expansion of the plantation industries: coffee in the
years 1841–1880, tea in the years 1890–1910, and
rubber in the first two decades of the twentieth century.
By the turn of the century, about 100,000 workers and
their families arrived annually in Sri Lanka (Heiser
1936; Philips 1955).
According to the contract, the planters provided
living and hospital care for the workers (Chattopad-
hyaya 1979). The workers lived in barrack-like “lines”
that were constructed of temporary materials. Each
family was given two small rooms and as many as
twelve people lived in a 8 × 10 ft room. One of the
unhealthiest aspects of the living conditions on the
estates was that the lines were not provided with latrines
(Rockefeller Archive Center 1914, hereafter RAC). The
workers had no choice but to relieve themselves
wherever they felt the inclination. As a result, the
sanitary conditions on the estates were deplorable (RAC
1914). The lack of government regulations over the
affairs of the plantation industry made it easier for
the planters to maximize their profit at the expense of the
basic needs of their workers. In the extremely poor
sanitary conditions on the plantations, immigrant
workers and their families faced the threat of a wide
range of diseases such as hookworm infection, malaria,
smallpox, and cholera, which often became epidemics in
many parts of the country. S. V. Balasingham, a Sri
Lankan historian, describes the desperate conditions of
the immigrant workers as follows: “The spread of
epidemics, like cholera and smallpox in certain years in
Ceylon has been traced to these immigrants and
epidemics of either disease are reported to have carried
away large numbers of the immigrants themselves....
There were reports in the Ceylon Times of starvation
among these laborers and sale of children owing to the
impossibility of maintaining them on the low wages of
6d a day” (Balasingham 1968).
The Prevalence of Hookworm Disease
Hookworms are tiny, slender parasites from one-half to
three-quarters of an inch in length. Although parasitic
in the bowel, the worm does not gain entrance through
the mouth but through the pores of the skin when it
comes in contact with polluted soil. The hookworm
infection causes under-nutrition, anemia, and lassitude.
The victims of hookworm infection sometimes die
because the worms literally suck away the blood
necessary for life. Usually, however, death occurs
because—drained of blood—the sufferers are too weak
to resist new infections (Cort 1921).
The hookworm infection (anchylostomiasis) first
appeared in the administration report of the Principal
Civil Medical Officer (hereafter PCMO) of Sri Lanka
Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka 1477
in 1888, when 31 cases were diagnosed at General
Hospitals in Colombo, Badulla, and Kurunegala (Sri
Lanka National Archive 1888, hereafter SLNA). This
number increased rapidly, and by 1899 about 239
deaths from anchylostomiasis had been reported in the
island. According to Allan Perry, PCMO, over 80% of
the reported cases were immigrant workers, and the rest
were people living in the neighboring villages of the
plantation areas. “The greatest number of cases
occurring in the planting districts... Yet other provinces
show some cases, notably the Northern, which returned
57 cases for the year” (SLNA 1899). Although, the
authorities were fully aware of the cause of the spread
of the disease, they were reluctant to interfere with the
private economic decisions of the planters (SLNA
1916). Consequently, by 1916 the hookworm infection
had reached epidemic proportions; more than 90% of
the population in the plantation districts was infected
with the disease. Although the main cause of the spread
of disease was the poor sanitary conditions in the
plantation areas, the economic interest of the planters
took precedence over the health of their workers (RAC
1914). Even though a large number of the immigrant
laborers arriving in Sri Lanka each year seldom lived
more than “a couple of monsoons,” the planters were
not concerned with the high death toll. According to
K. M. de Silva, in the years 1841– 848, about 70,000
(10,000 per year) or 25% of the immigrant workers
died of various causes. These figures, according to
M
de Silva, had been published by The Colombo Observer,
a leading newspaper of the day, which argued that the
death toll in Sri Lanka was much higher than that of
Mauritius, where Indian laborers received relatively
better treatment (de Silva 1965). Particularly, with the
proximity of Sri Lanka to South India and the large
reserve of cheap labor there, the planters never felt any
economic urgency to take the hookworm epidemic
seriously. Moreover, the Kanganies who recruited labor-
ers for the estates were always willing to bring as
many laborers as the planters required. According some
observers, “Kanganies” who recruited laborers in India
acted as leaders of each gang of up to one hundred
workers. In addition to their salaries for working as
supervisors, the Kanganies received 2 cents per day from
each laborer’s wage under their supervision. Further,
they received a bonus when their workers turned up, and
therefore they made every attempt to bring as many
workers as possible to the plantations (Chattopadhyaya
1979).
Philanthropic Medicine
The Rockefeller Foundation initiated the hookworm
control campaign in the early 1900s, when the disease
was a major health problem in the southern United
States (Fosdick 1952). The public health program was
started in the South for the purpose of integrating its
1478 Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka

Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka. Table 1 Death from Hookworm Infection, Sri Lanka 1900–1922

Year Estimated Populationa Death Rate Per Million Year Estimated Populationa Death Rate Per Million

1900 Island 3,565,954 72.3 1913 Island ” 534.7

Plantation 441,601 217.3 Plantation ” 3449.1
1904 Island ” 88.3 1914 Island ” 641.6
Plantation ” 346.4 Plantation ” 4348.8
1905 Island ” 157.6 1915 Island ” 504.0
Plantation ” 656.7 Plantation ” 3269.9
1906 Island ” 256.5 1916 Island ” 610.0
Plantation ” 1173.0 Plantation ” 4021.6
1907 Island ” 266.6 1917 Island ” 624.6
Plantation ” 1259.0 Plantation ” 4035.3
1908 Island ” 352.2 1918 Island ” 566.9
Plantation ” 1893.1 Plantation ” 3458.8
1909 Island ” 416.7 1919 Island ” 635.1
Plantation ” 2497.7 Plantation ” 3412.0
1910 Island ” 446.4 1920 Island ” 794.1
Plantation ” 2586.0 Plantation ” 4307.9
1911 Island 4,106,350 489.7 1921 Island 4,498,605 651.3
Plantation 513,467 2894.0 Plantation 568,850 3678.9
1912 Island ” 448.8 1922 Island ” 415.4
Plantation ” 3075.1 Plantation ” 2132.5
a
Population figures for the Island and the Plantations are based on the 1900, 1911, and 1921 census. Department of Census and Statistics.
Census Data, Ceylon Year Book, Colombo 1970; Rockefeller Archive Center, Ceylon Population, 4, 1914, Record Group 5, Series 2, Box 47;
Sri Lanka National Archive, Ceylon Administration Reports, Vital Statistics: Report of the Registrar General of Ceylon (1900–1922).

agricultural territory into the more stable, industrial
economy controlled by the capitalists in the North.
John D. Rockefeller Sr. and his close advisors believed
that the disease, illiteracy, and unemployment in the
South were not only causing political and civil unrest,
but also contributing to the sluggish economy. By
improving the health and education of the whole
population, beyond racial boundaries, the Rockefeller
Foundation expected to expand its industrial and
commercial base in the South (Brown 1979).
The political and economic interests of the Rockefeller
philanthropists were certainly not limited to the United
States. They clearly recognized the interrelationship
between their own personal economic interests and those
of the capitalist class and the global economy in general.
Consequently, with the experience of controlling hook-
worm infection in the South, the International Health
Board of the Rockefeller Foundation (hereafter the IHB)
willingly extended its capital to other countries, particu-
larly to the British Empire. Frederick T. Gates, who was
one of the architects of the Rockefeller philanthropies,
wrote to John D. Rockefeller Sr. in 1905 stating that the
hookworm control campaign was one of the “special
programs that has direct physical and economic benefits,
and a means of creating and promoting influences”
(Brown 1976). The “concept” of health, for the Rock-
efeller philanthropists, was clearly an economic term
embedded in the capitalistic pursuit of global economic
and political domination. They had the foresight to
understand that disease has no geographical or cultural
boundaries. In relation to the hookworm control program
in Sri Lanka, Dr. Victor Heiser, the director of the public
health program of the IHB in the East, maintained that
“disease never stays at home in its natural breeding
place of filth, but is ever and again breaking into the
precincts of its more cleanly neighbors.... It should also
have been evident to employers of colonial labor that
human life had a direct monetary value... even though it
might vary greatly with age and race” (Heiser 1936). The
Rockefeller philanthropists believed that if health could
be achieved in the British colonies, which included the
largest share of the global market, Western industrial
capitalists could not only expand their trade to those
countries, but also influence the national political affairs
of those nations. In this context, they expected that
medicine would help unify and integrate the emerging
industrial economies and their social and cultural values
with those of less developed agrarian societies and
legitimize capitalist activities by diverting attention from
structural and other environmental causes of disease
(Brown 1976).
When the IHB began the hookworm control
campaign in Sri Lanka in 1916, the United States was
already an emerging superpower with an established
military presence in the East. Following the Spanish-
American war in 1898, the United States was in control

of the Philippine Islands (Wolff 1961). While the U.S.
Army Board of Health was responsible for the overall
public health activities of the islands, the Rockefeller
Sanitary Commission was engaged in some philan-
thropic work in the field of tropical sanitation. Sri
Lanka was a special interest case for the IHB in the East
for specific reasons pertaining to the long-term
objectives of the Rockefeller Foundation. Wickliffe
Rose, the director of the IHB, pointed out that Sri
Lanka was a key location in Asia where a successful
public health program could attract a great deal of
interest in the whole region (RAC 1915). Among some
of the specific reasons that he indicated for the choice
of Sri Lanka were:
1. The government offered a favorable administrative
framework,
2. The agricultural industry provided an effective
economic medium,
3. The island delimited a large, but discrete, area,
4. The geographic location of Sri Lanka in the East
might tend to help spread the new knowledge and its
benefits (Philips 1955).
By implementing a hookworm control program for a
selected group of people in the country, the IHB
expected to achieve high visibility and recognition in
the international community. Furthermore, by eradicat-
ing hookworm infection among the workers in the
plantation industry the Health Board believed that
it could help increase productivity (Brown 1976). In
his speech to the Planters’ Association in Kandy on
May 12 1916, Dr. Howard, a project advisor of the
hookworm control campaign in Sri Lanka, specifically
mentioned the economic benefits of the hookworm
campaign: “it is of immense importance to the planters
and estate owners since their profit must be dependent
upon the efficiency of the labor with which they
operate. Further, not only would the efficiency rate of
the treated laborers increase by 20–40%, but also they
were less likely to return to India necessitating the
importation of others to replace them” (RAC 1916).
The cultural and political aspects of the location of Sri
Lanka were equally important for the Rockefeller
Foundation. Sri Lanka, as the center of Theravada
Buddhism in the East, was identified as an important
cultural “laboratory” for a public health campaign of
Western medicine, the success of which could be used
by the Rockefeller Foundation as an example to highlight
the benefits of Western culture (Jayawardena 1988).
Organization of the Project
The project was begun in 1916 under the direction of an
American doctor, John E. Snodgrass, who reported
both to the IHB of the Rockefeller Foundation and to
the PCMO of Sri Lanka. All the other subordinate staff
Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka 1479
working in the project was selected locally. The
immediate objectives of the project were outlined as
follows:
1. To reduce the cost of annual recruitment of new
workers by reducing morbidity and mortality
2. To cut down hospital expenses by reducing the rate
of hospital occupancy
3. To increase the rate of fertility among female
workers and to produce a native-born permanent
labor force by treating anemia and
4. To increase daily productivity by reducing the
number of sick workers (RAC 1916).
By the end of 1922 over 600,000 people had been
treated. The rate of infection dropped dramatically, and
hookworm related deaths in the island declined to their
lowest level of 415 per million persons in 12 years. The
reduced hospitalization among workers showed the
planters the economic benefits of the campaign. Annual
reports emphasized the increased productivity and the
reduced absenteeism. “There have been indications that
the health of many has improved since the treatment.
There has been an increased capacity for work” (RAC
1918). Reports were carefully worded to avoid any
misunderstanding that could jeopardize the confidence
in Western medicine or the work of the Rockefeller
Foundation. For example, in the case of death follow-
ing treatment, the locally recruited dispensers were
accused. “Careless administration of treatment... may M
have caused one or two deaths in the hookworm
campaign. There were mistakes and instances of
irresponsibility on the part of some of the local staff,
but all known emergencies were met by the doctors
with an almost perfect record of medical success”
(RAC 1917). American doctors working in the field
often interviewed plantation management to get their
reaction to the increased productivity as a result of the
treatment. One planter reported that “the whole labor
force is healthier... there has been very little sickness
lately and... one outcome of the treatment is the
pending heavy increase in the birth rate. My coolies on
the whole have great faith in the treatment” (RAC
1918).
The increased productivity immediately after the
treatment created a great deal of enthusiasm among
planters as well as the Rockefeller field doctors. Almost
every communiqué from the field doctors to the IHB
officials clearly emphasized the fact that the laborers
were healthier and working hard. But this enthusiasm
was not translated into fundamental sanitary reforms on
the plantations. Although the field doctors insisted
upon the establishment of latrines in workers’ lines, it
was beyond their power to impose such orders on
planters. With the experience of reinfection under poor
sanitary conditions in other countries, the field doctors
made a number of appeals to the Planters’ Association
1480 Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka
Medicine and Colonialism in Sri Lanka. Table 2 Persons Examined and Treated for Hookworm Disease by the International
Health Board, Sri Lanka, 1916–1922
Year Persons Examineda Percentage Found Infecteda
1916 7,645 96.3
1917 42,828 97.2
1918 26,424 97.0
1919 15,542 77.5
1920 16,961 75.5
1921 497 84.9
1922 7,137 83.7
a
Rockefeller Archive Center Summary figures, Ceylon anchylostomiasis campaigns, 1–2, 1925, Record Group 5, Series 3, Box 196;
b
Sri Lanka National Archive Ceylon Administration Reports, Principal Civil Medical Officer and Inspector General of Hospitals (1916–1922).
and colonial government for constructing latrines in the
workers’ lines. They recommended the following steps
for permanent control of hookworm infection on the
plantation:
1. The construction and improvement of latrines and
line compounds in order to meet basic sanitary
requirements,
2. The mass treatment of all employed laborers
annually until the re-infection declined to a negligi-
ble level,
3. The establishment of quarantine camps in South
India, where the plantation workers originated, to
treat them before leaving for Sri Lanka (RAC 1925).
The Rockefeller Foundation’s hookworm control
campaign on the plantation began with the understand-
ing that the planters would take the appropriate
measures to improve the sanitary conditions on the
estates. However, these preventive measures required
some spending which the planters did not want to
undertake. As a result, the rate of reinfection continued
to increase in the plantation areas. In one district alone
(Matale), a year after the workers had been cured, the
rate of re-infection was 88% among a total of 3,000
persons examined (RAC 1920a). The field doctors
reluctantly admitted that the planters were unwilling to
improve sanitary conditions, though they were happy
to see that the laborers were being treated. In their
annual reports, they recommended sanitary reforms as
a fundamental requirement for the prevention of the
disease. However, these cogent recommendations of
the field doctors were not matched by sufficient will on
the part of the IHB officials, whose mandate it was
to negotiate with the government and planters. For
political reasons financial contributions were approved
so long as good will continued to prevail between these
parties. For instance, in recommending $5,000 for a
plantation company to provide treatment for their
laborers, Dr. Jacocks, a senior representative of the IHB
in Sri Lanka, wrote to the New York office, “I asked
Persons Treatedb Percentage Curedb
6,752 82.5
35,675 82.5
50,374 88.9
88,602 77.9
126,529 76.2
117,209 n/a
262,545 n/a
Dr. Rutherford [PCMO] for his opinion as to whether
the granting of such a contribution by the Board at
Government’s request would help to “heal the break”
[original emphasis] between Government and the
planters. He said that he thought it would, as it should
be evident to planters that the aid could not have been
granted without Government consent. He thought
further that a more kindly reciprocal feeling between
planters and Government would follow” (RAC 1920b).
Perhaps even in a more crucial ideological sense,
presented with the choice of pressing for fundamental
sanitary development or continuing medical treat-
ments, the IHB officials consistently authorized the
latter, which it favored due to its bias towards curative
medicine. Instructing on how to spend the $5,000
grant, Dr. Jacocks stated, “this sum to be used for
post treatment as well as first treatment” (RAC 1920b).
Despite the apparent failure of the hookworm control
campaign on the plantations, the IHB felt it had achieved
its goal by demonstrating the relationship between
the treatment for hookworm disease and increased
productivity. Therefore, in 1922, the IHB decided to
close its program on the plantations (Hewa 1995).
While medicine and medical services were devel-
oped to overcome the threat of tropical diseases, these
medical services were not extended to the people of the
colonies until it was realized that the repeated outbreak
of epidemics in the colonies would not spare the
European troops and administrators. Moreover, the
diseases in the colonies eventually found their way to
Europe through trade. For example, the spread of
cholera from India to Europe between the period of
1816 and 1880s was a major concern that directly
influenced the scientific research of John Snow, Louis
Pasteur and Robert Koch (May 1958). While the health
of the Europeans was always the first priority of
colonial policy, the health of the indigenous people, as
long as it did not threaten the economic and political
interests of the empire, was ignored. Indian labor was
exploited extensively for the expansion of the empire in

Asia, Africa and the Pacific in the same manner as
African slavery was used to build the colonial economy
in America and the Caribbean.
As shown, the hookworm epidemic in Sri Lanka was
the result of a colonial labor policy which compromised
the basic sanitary requirements of the workers for the
purpose of maximizing profit. Although there was
nothing inherently evil in the medical services provided
by the IHB in Sri Lanka, or anywhere else for that
matter, the predominant interests of the IHB–as
epitomized by its partiality for curative medicine -
effectively precluded the success of their campaign to
cure disease at their source. This curative bias of the
IHB official changed overtime as they continued to
work in Sri Lanka. This was evident in the subsequent
Health Unit Program (Hewa 2005) begun in the late
1920s that became the foundation of the primary care
system developed in the last 75 years in Sri Lanka.
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Medicine of Tibet
R OBERT W ILLIAM P RASAAD S TEINER ,
YANGBUM G YAL
How can we understand the practical applications of
healthcare systems from different cultures? This
chapter about the theory and practice of traditional
Tibetan medicine (TTM) attempts to point to possible
answers to that question.
Traditional Tibetan medicine approaches health from
the perspectives of balance, synergy and integration
of multi-dimensional aggregates that span body and
mind, simultaneously and without distinction. The
emphasis of TTM involves dealing directly with the
nature of imbalances among the aggregates that result
in the appearance of signs and symptoms of disease
and illness. The approach includes dealing with issues
of mind – including conflicting emotions and mental
afflictions – as well as dealing with the external
influences that adversely affect a person’s specific
constitution and condition. TTM avoids the schism
of mind and body that is so prevalent in western
medical care.
His Holiness Dalai Lama XIV offered a statement
about the utility of TTM at the First International
Congress of Tibetan Medicine in 1998 (Dalai Lama
1999):
As an integrated system of health care, Tibetan
medicine can offer allopathic medicine a different
perspective on health. However, like other scien-
tific systems, it must be understood in its own
terms, as well as in the context of objective
investigation. In practice it can also offer Western
people another approach to achieving happiness
through health and balance.
Dalai Lama states a position of cultural relativism – that
opportunities are present to study culturally different
traditions of healthcare that may benefit people in
western cultures. This is possible if the native culture is
understood and examined from its own premises, rather
than maintaining an ethnocentric position. His Holiness
also points to a priority of TTM – a primary goal of
healthcare is to attain happiness. This goal is often not
considered in western biomedical traditions of health-
care, where there is more emphasis on materialistic
aspects of technologic interventions to overcome
disease.
The notion of disease can be viewed as a culturally
bound concept – one that depends upon assumptions,
motivations, and selective attention of the people in that
tradition. Disease is a reified concept, based upon
meaning and interpretations assigned to patterns of the
subjective symptoms and experiences of illness and
concurrent objective symptoms (Kleinman 1981). One
intention of this chapter is to examine the premises
underlying the theory and practice of TTM, so that
the engrained approaches of western biomedicine
may become more accessible, understandable, and
meaningful by comparison and contrast (Leslie and
Young 1992).
Anatomy and Physiology in Tibetan Medicine:
Aggregates and Elements
Maintaining balance among the three aspects of bodily
constituents (Tibetan: Nyipa sum) is the goal of Tibetan
medicine (Dhonden 1977, 1986, 2000). The three
aggregates are complexes of mind-body that include
physical, personality, and spiritual aspects. The three
aggregates are rlüng, mKhris-pa, and Bad-kan, often
collectively translated as “humors” and translated as
“wind,” “bile,” and “phlegm”. However, these terms do
not accurately portray the unified and multi-dimensional
nature of these aspects. Alternatively, the terms “rlüng,
mKhris-pa, and Bad-kan” can be translated as “subtle
energy, transforming energy, and supportive energy.”
These alternative terms convey the qualities of func-
tional interactions that are prominent within Tibetan
medicine. The term “aggregates” will be used in the
remainder of this chapter, in place of the more common
translation as “humor.”
The aggregates of TTM are composed of elements.
The elements that comprise the ordinary physical body
in TTM are translated as space, air, fire, water, and
earth (nam mkha, rlüng, me, chu, and sa). The five
sensory consciousnesses (hearing, touch, sight, taste,
and smell) each correspond to the same respective
elements. Thus, each element is a metaphor, or “sphere
of influence” (Porkert 1974), representing the many
dimensions of life experiences. For example, space
represents formless potentiality (e.g., consciousness)
and air is associated with subtle movements (e.g.,
conduction of impulses in the nervous system, circula-
tion, respiration, or intuition). Fire represents active
transformation (e.g., digestion of food into nutrients or
intellectual discourse), while water represents cohesion
and communication (e.g., empathy, lubrication, or
feelings), and earth is manifest form (e.g., anatomic
structure or physical sensations). Each element is
 Medicine of Tibet 1483

Medicine of Tibet. Table 1 Five elements and their cellular, Medicine of Tibet. Table 3 Characteristics and functions of
tissue, and physiological functions three aggregates

Elements Physiological functions Aggregates Characteristics Functions

Earth Muscle tissues, bones, nose, and sense of smell Wind Rough, light, cold, Physical and mental
Water Blood, body fluids, tongue, and sense of taste (Tibetan: subtle, hard, and activities, respiration,
Fire Body temperature, complexion, eyes, and rlüng) mobile urination, defecation,
sense of sight development and
Air Respiration, skin, and sense of touch delivery of the fetus,
Space Body cavities, ears, and sense of hearing menstruation, spitting,
burping, speech, clarity
of the sense organs,
sustain life by acting as
Medicine of Tibet. Table 2 Relationship between the five a medium between
elements, aggregates, and three poisons mind and body
Bile Oily, sharp, hot, Hunger, thirst,
Element Three Three poisons (Tibetan: light, fetid, digestion and
aggregates (mental and spiritual) mKhris-pa) purgative, and fluid assimilation, promote
bodily heat, gives luster
Earth and Phlegm (Tibetan: Delusion, ignorance to body complexion,
water Bad-kan) provides courage and
Fire Bile (Tibetan: Aversion, hatred determination
mKhris-pa) Phlegm Oily, cool, heavy, Firmness of the body,
Air and space Wind (Tibetan: Attachment, passion (Tibetan: blunt, smooth, firm, stability of mind, in-
rlüng) Bad-kan) and sticky duces sleep, connects
bodily joints, generates
tolerance, and lubri-
cates the body
associated with a sense organ and sensory perception,
emotions, sacred images, and more (Tables 1–3).
The elements combine to form the aggregates that M
represent a person’s constitution (Tibetan: Rang bZhin). a cascade of events, the essence of blood forms muscle
Space and air together comprise rlüng (Sanskrit: vata). tissue, the essence of muscle tissue forms fat, the
Rlüng is traditionally considered the most important essence of fat forms bones, the essence of bones forms
aggregate in Tibetan medicine, since movement is so marrow, and the essence of bone marrow forms the
basic to all vital functions. Consequently, rlüng condi- regenerative fluids. The qualities of the regenerative
tions are highly prevalent. Fire is the primary element in fluids are responsible for the radiant glow of good
mKhris-pa (Sanskrit: pitta) constitution, while water health (Sanskrit: ojas). When the three aggregates are
and earth combine to form Bad-kan (Sanskrit: kapha) balanced, then the seven bodily sustainers mentioned
(Lad 1984). above are also balanced.
Usually one aggregate predominates as a person’s Functional relations are emphasized more than
constitution. The aggregates can also combine so that physical anatomy in Tibetan medicine (Rechung 1976).
primary and secondary aspects are present. For example, From the spiritual perspectives of Tibetan Buddhism
primary rlüng and secondary mKhris-pa constitutions and in the context of TTM, the organs, their functions,
(and vice versa) allow for refined behavioral and and elements are each related to a particular wisdom
medicinal prescriptions. When all aggregates are portrayed in sacred iconography (Lauf 1976: 117–137).
afflicted simultaneously, a condition known as mug-po Each bodily structure is also associated with medita-
is present. The Tibetan elements differ from the five- tional deities and sacred sounds (mantra). Each element
phase theory in the traditional Chinese medical model and aggregate is related to aspects of mind, sensory
(Porkert 1974). perceptions and emotions and modes of cognition.
An example of the explanatory model for aggregates Body and mind, mundane, and spiritual are fused
in Tibetan physiology may be useful. When we eat, the within Tibetan medicine. Thus, health and disease are
nutrients go to the stomach where Bad-kan helps to multi-dimensional, including spiritual dimensions.
mix them (lubrication function). Then the mKhris-pa
will help to digest them (transformation activity), and
the rlüng will help to separate the essential nutrients Clinical Diagnosis in Tibetan Medicine
from the waste products (movement metaphor). The ATibetan physician employs his own senses to examine
essences of the nutrients eventually form blood, and in the patient’s general balance of health. There are three
1484 Medicine of Tibet
main methods of diagnostic examinations in Tibetan
medicine: questioning, observation, and palpation. Inter-
active and subjective clinical assessments are the essence
of the diagnostic method. Objective technologies for
clinical diagnosis are practically non-existent in TTM.
There are modern clinical survey instruments to assess
Ayurvedic constitution (Sachs and Rapgay 1995; Chopra
1991), but no psychometric studies are readily available
to validate their clinical utility.
Diagnosis by Questioning
Questioning is based on a series of 29 items that help to
identify the nature of the imbalance in constitution and
condition (Clark 1995). Questioning is analogous to
taking a clinical history in western medicine, whereby
signs, symptoms, patient perceptions, and meanings are
elicited. For example, the cause of disease may lie in
consumption of unwholesome foods or improper
behaviors. Asking about specific signs and symptoms
assists the physician in understanding the imbalances
among the three aggregates. (Finckh 1988) When
assessing constitution and condition, the qualities that
the patient exhibits in responding to the questions are as
important as the content of the answers.
Diagnosis by Observation: Urine and Tongue Diagnosis
The urine is examined to assess constitution, condition,
and response to treatments. For constitutional assess-
ments, the patient is instructed to refrain from eating
spicy foods, drinking alcohol, performing unusual
strenuous activity, and having sexual intercourse on
the day before the examination. The physician examines
the first early morning urine sample by stirring it in a
small bowl with a clean stick and then examining the
color, vapor, odor, bubbles, sediments, and scum.
The color of urine is determined by the intake of food
and drink, seasons, diseases, and imbalances. In general,
a reddish color with a small volume of urine indicates a
hot disorder, while whitish clear urine with a large
volume indicates a cold disorder. For the patient with
rlüng, the urine is clear like water and it has many big
bubbles that may last only a short time. The urine from a
person with mKhris-pa constitution is a reddish-yellow
color, with a very strong odor, and moderate-scant
volume. The Bad-kan patient has urine that is clear in
color, with little odor, large volume, and small bubbles
that often last a long time. Repeat urine analyses are used
to gauge the accuracy of diagnosis, the efficacy of the
treatment and as a guide to refining the treatment.
The Tibetan doctor may view the patient’s tongue to
provide additional clinical information. For example,
the rlüng patient will probably have a red, dry, and
rough tongue. The patient with mKhris-pa constitution
will likely have a tongue with a thick yellow coating.
The tongue of a Bad-kan patient is white, smooth, and
wet. Tongue and pulse diagnosis may also prompt
additional questioning to support or reject clinical
assessments.
Diagnosis by Palpation: Pulse Diagnosis
Examination by touching includes palpation of the
body parts to assess temperature, areas of tenderness,
tightness, weakness, or abnormal growths. Pulse diag-
nosis is a key method for assessment (Dhonden 1986;
Dhonden and Topgay 1980; Finckh 1978; Steiner
1987–1989). The physician interprets the waveforms
of the patients’ radial arteries to assess ongoing phy-
siologic processes and relationships between body parts
and aggregates. Patients are instructed not to engage
in sexual intercourse on the day prior to the pulse
reading, not to consume alcohol, eat excessively,
or engage in strenuous activities. These recommenda-
tions are intended to normalize the three aggregates
by minimizing extraordinary external influences. The
assessments of constitutional pulses are typically per-
formed during the early morning, while the patient’s
stomach is empty.
The physician palpates the radial pulses on both
wrists, while the patient is in a comfortable and quiet
environment (Fig. 1). The left hand is slightly flexed, so
that the wrist creases are clearly visible. A special
pillow may be used to rest the wrists during this part of
the examination. The doctor places the fingers of his
right hand on the left radial pulse of the patient, so that
the right index finger is proximal to the wrist crease, at
a distance about as wide as the patient’s distal thumb.
The second and third fingers then fall naturally along
the artery. The three palpating fingers generally do
not touch one another unless the patient is small in
stature. The patient’s right radial artery pulses are
palpated in a similar manner. The physician may
examine the pulses on one wrist at a time, or he may
examine both wrists simultaneously. The radial pulse is
palpated with increasing pressures at each site proximal
to the wrist crease.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 1 Positions of the physician’s
fingers for reading the pulses.

Each of the physician’s palpating fingers can assess
the functional characteristics of specific physiologic
systems form the observed and interpreted qualities of
the pulses. It is again important to note that although
the names for organ systems are used here, these terms
are metaphors for the mind-body functions associated
with the elements and aggregates. According to the
text, the heart and small intestine are assessed at the
first position on the male patient’s left hand, the spleen/
pancreas and stomach with the second palpating finger,
and so on. Similarly, the pulses at the first position on
the male patient’s right radial artery correspond to the
lungs and large intestine. Liver and gall bladder pulses
are located at the second position, and right kidney and
urinary bladder are at the third position.
The pulses of women are reversed at the first position
only, so that the heart and small intestine are assessed at
the first position on the woman’s right hand and the
pulse for lungs and large intestine is read on a woman’s
left radial pulse. The reason for the switch is due to
slight differences between genders for the apex of entry
for consciousness that enters the heart, although no
physical differences in the anatomy of the hearts is
present. This is consistent with teachings of Tibetan
embryology.
There is a complex system for interpreting the
qualities of the pulses at each of the 12 sites on the
radial arteries. For example, floating, irregular or
intermittent beat qualities may be present in the pulse
in the presence of disorders of rlüng. This finding often
indicates the presence of pain symptoms that may
radiate or have a breaking quality in specific sites
indicated by the pulse. Rlüng symptoms have a tendency
to change or be fleeting. Protruding and rolling pulses in
the proximal sites are often present in early pregnancy, a
finding attributed to the excess blood from the fetus
(Bad-kan condition). Fast or jumping qualities indicates
excess heat (mKhris-pa). Underlying patterns within the
pulses can be discerned; this allows the physician to
select various medicines in accord with their taste,
potency, and site of action (Fig. 2).
Constitution Analysis and Treatment Methods
The first priority in Tibetan medicine is to restore
harmony to each person in the context of his or her life
experiences. Symptoms are a result of an imbalance
caused by disturbances in circumstances such as diet,
lifestyle, and seasonal and mental conditions. Treat-
ment depends on the total situation rather than the
individual symptom; therapy varies with constitution
and condition. Two people with the same symptom
may be given very different advice and treatment, if
constitution and condition differ.
Tibetan medicine provides a systematic approach to
treatment and prevention. There are four methods of
Medicine of Tibet 1485
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 2 A Tibetan physician reading the
radial pulses.
intervention: diet, behavior modification, medicine,
and physical therapies. The three constitutions (rlüng,
mKhris-pa, and Bad-kan) each have patterns of
symptoms, preferences, and tendencies that can be
remedied with categoric therapies. If the illness is not
serious, diet and behavioral advice may be sufficient;
otherwise, prescriptive medicines may be needed.
However, the best use of medical treatment cannot
provide good health through physical means alone; a
healthy mind is needed as well (Tai Situ Rimpoche and
Terhune 1992: 21). Tibetan medicine gives priority to
psychological and spiritual factors in its definition of
M
health. It teaches that we can make peace with the
disease once we know and understand it. The literature
is rich with specific meditation techniques used to restore
balance (Rimpoche 1996; Sachs and Rapgay 1995; Tulku
1979; Thondup 1998; and many others). Each constitu-
tion and typical treatments are discussed below.
Constitution and Conditions in Tibetan medicine: rlüng
The physical characteristics of rlüng constitution
typically include an asthenic body (lacking strength
or vigor), sensitivity to cold, and a talkative and lively
personality. Rlüng people are easily aroused from
sleep, tend to eat small amounts of food frequently, and
work hard but sweat little. They are prone to worry and
sorrow. Symptoms of excess rlüng tend to be worse
during cold and windy climates, during summer, or
during early morning and/or late afternoon. Aging
tends to produce imbalances in rlüng, so that these
conditions are more common among the elderly.
From the spiritual perspective, egocentric mind is the
usual source for imbalances of rlüng. Relational issues
about attachment, sometimes translated as passion,
essentially characterize people with rlüng constitutions
(Sachs and Rapgay 1995). Ego, in this context, is the
identifying with the false concept that each person is
separate and independent from the world in which we
live. In Tibetan medicine and culture, ego is viewed as
1486 Medicine of Tibet
a limitation to be overcome, rather than a psychological
resource to be enhanced. Ego is synonymous with self-
clinging habitual patterns of mind, and so it is viewed
as an obscuration to the clarity of the self-liberated
mind. Ethical motivations and meditative practices
with an experienced teacher can be an aid to realizing
and dissolving such barriers.
Diagnosis by observation of a person with excess
rlüng shows a tongue that is rough and dry (Fig. 3).
Pulse diagnosis shows qualities that are irregular,
empty, or floating. Urine is clear and has many large or
variable size bubbles that last only a short time (Fig. 4).
Diagnosis by questioning may reveal symptoms that
are worse with ingestion of foods with light or rough
potency and symptoms that change quickly over time.
Typically, symptoms worsen when the patient is hungry
and they may be relieved with foods that are oily, hot,
or heavy. Symptoms tend to have a breaking quality,
particularly in the bones and joints and in the lower
body. Nervous symptoms including anxiety are com-
mon in this group.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 3 Wind tongue is dry, with a red tip.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 4 Wind urine is clear with lots of
large bubbles that do not last long.
Patients with excess rlüng are typically instructed
to rest – both physically and mentally. Minimizing
anxiety and worry is important, since this psychic
discord is a basic manifestation of rlüng. They can be
advised to stay in comfortable, quiet, dimly lit, warm
places. Company with a few close friends is beneficial,
as are small amounts of alcoholic drinks. Patients should
avoid excessive indulging of strong coffee and black tea,
cold or refrigerated food and drinks, smoking, unripe
fruits and vegetables, bitter gourd, junk foods, pork,
foods and drinks with bitter and astringent tastes.
Patients are encouraged to eat sweets, protein and
nutritional foods and drinks, oily and warm foods and
drinks, warm milk, butter, wine, garlic, caraway, leek,
onion, sesame, cauliflower, radish, nuts, pomegranate,
strawberry, apple, nutmeg, flax seed, clove, star anise,
cabbage, mushroom, mustard, sunflower seed, cinnamon,
and soya bean.
Patients with rlüng disorders are asked to pay special
attention to regulating their lifestyles (e.g., eating,
sleeping, and excretory function), to find time for calm
activities and socializing, and to exercise in ways
that promote good overall circulation, using techniques
such as hatha yoga exercises and pranayama (yogic
breathing). External cautery, similar in principal to tradi-
tional Chinese or Mongolian moxibustion (the applica-
tion of burning moxa or other combustible materials at
the acupuncture points) may be used to heat the body.
Figures 5 and 6 show some typical herbal ingredients
used to diminish excessive rlüng.
Constitution and Conditions in Tibetan Medicine:
mKhris-pa
People with mKhris-pa constitution may be very
ambitious; they tend to be active and may try to control
situations physically or through positions of power.
They tend to be keen thinkers and may have extraordinary
motor skills. Yet control and aggression are sources of
suffering for them. Spiritually, people with mKhris-pa
constitutions can be characterized by aggressive beha-
viors sometimes translated either as “hatred” or “aver-
sion.” The attitudes and behavioral characteristics of
mKhris-pa also rest upon a false sense of ego-clinging
identity, just as was present among those with rlüng.
However, the varieties in constitution and condition allow
for different manifestations of this basic ignorance.
Patients with mKhris-pa constitutions are typically
medium size, muscular, with a yellowish tinge to the
skin. They are frequently hungry and/or thirsty, sweat
easily, and they like activities and challenges. They are
prone to annoyances and anger. Symptoms of excess
mKhris-pa tend to be worse during hot and dry
climates, during autumn, or during midnight and
midday hours. Imbalances in mKhris-pa tend to occur
among middle age groups.
 Medicine of Tibet 1487

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 6 Nutmeg or Myristica fragrans, an

ingredient of Agar 8, a traditional herb medicine to reduce
excessive rlüng.
M

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 5 Clove or Eugenia caryophyllata,

an ingredient of Sem-De, a traditional herb medicine to
reduce excessive rlüng.

Diagnosis by observation of a person with excess

mKhris-pa shows a tongue that is coated with a thick,
yellowish substance (Fig. 7). Pulse diagnosis shows
qualities that are fast, strong, and jumping. Urine is
yellowish-red, with a strong odor and small bubbles
(Fig. 8). Diagnosis by questioning may reveal symp-
toms that are worse after eating, especially after foods
with sharp or hot qualities. Symptoms may include Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 7 Bile tongue with yellow coating.
a bitter taste in the mouth, a sense of heat or fever
within the body and aches in the middle and upper parts
of the body. Ingestion of cool foods may relieve the be seasoned with cumin, coriander, or fenugreek.
symptoms. Foods that are heating in nature should be avoided,
Therapy for mKhris-pa is directed to foods and including peanut butter, mustard and hot spices, garlic,
medicines that are sweet, bitter and astringent in taste ginger, onion, alcohol, grilled meats (esp. lamb), oily
and cool, smooth and blunt in potency. Patients with an and greasy foods, and soups made with bones.
imbalance in mKhris-pa should eat beef, vegetables, Syrups and powders are traditional types of pre-
butter, low fat cheese, cow’s yogurt and buttermilk, and scribed Tibetan medicines for mKhris-pa. Purgatives
drink weak tea or spring water. A simple vegetarian diet and strong laxatives are used to reduce the excessive
is suitable, including legumes, potatoes, artichokes, amount of heat in the body. Behavior changes include
bitter vegetables (e.g., dandelion), and turnips that may the use of cold baths and showers, sitting in shaded
1488 Medicine of Tibet

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 9 Herbal remedy for excessive

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 8 Yellow, foul smelling urine for
mKhris-pa (bile) is Saussurea lappa, an ingredient of
case with excess mKhris-pa (bile).
Tik-Ta 8.

places, walking by the sea and cooling scents such as

sandalwood. Individuals suffering from a mKhris-pa
disorder should avoid situations causing conflict and
direct, excessive exposure to the sun. Physical activities
that are relaxing are encouraged; an environment that
is conducive to calmness is beneficial. External treat-
ments may target the production of sweat and may also
include bloodletting. Typical herbal ingredients for
excess mKhris-pa are shown in Figs. 9 and 10.

Constitution and Conditions in Tibetan Medicine:

Bad-kan
The physical characteristics of Bad-kan constitution are
typically a large or tall body, someone who can endure
hunger and thirst well, who shows a pleasant, easy
going and friendly personality. People in this group
tend to sleep soundly, eat too much and too quickly, and
wear clothing that is insufficient to keep them warm.
Excessive sleeping can worsen conditions. Bad-kan
people tend to be slow, persistent, and methodical
in daily routines. Cultivation of good habits can be
beneficial and enduring. Established routines are easily
maintained, but changing habits can be difficult.
Changing unhealthy habits may call for exertion that
may initially make the person uncomfortable. This
information is part of the prescription for health for this
constitution. Babies and young children tend to have
imbalances in Bad-kan.
The spiritual dilemma of people with Bad-kan
constitutions can be characterized by ignorance, also
known as delusion or confusion. Ignorance is one of the
three poisons. It means not relating to self and others
with a proper view. Ignorance has no relationship to
intelligence, as we use the term in western societies. As
such, it cannot be remedied with more studies or
acquisition of mundane knowledge. Spiritual insight is
the key to resolving the dilemma of ignorance.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 10 Herbal remedy for excessive
mKhris-pa (bile) is Rosa sericea Lindl., an ingredient of
Tri-Nam.
Diagnosis by observation of a person with excess
Bad-kan shows a tongue that is moist, smooth, glistening
with a thick gray lusterless coating (Fig. 10). Pulse diag-
nosis shows qualities that are slow, weak, sinking, or
deep. Urine is usually clear, with little odor and few
bubbles that last a long time (Fig. 11). Diagnosis by
questioning shows that symptoms are worse after eating,
especially after heavy foods, and relieved after warm or
hot foods. Symptoms include a sense of discomfort,
heaviness or coldness in the upper body or a sense of
heaviness in the mind (Fig. 12).
Therapy is directed to foods and medicines that
are pungent, sour and astringent in taste, with potencies
of sharp, rough, and light. Patients should adopt
a heating diet with respect to both the nature and
the temperature of the food. For example, they are
encouraged to consume a traditional diet to counter
excess cold and retention of fluids, including: hot water,

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 11 Excessive Bad-kan (phlegm)
tongue is wet and coated white.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 12 Excessive Bad-kan (phlegm)
urine is clear with small bubbles that last a long time.
cooked foods, mutton, fish, barley, pomegranates, sheep
cheese, yogurt, ginger, radish, honey, garlic, and wine.
They should avoid cold drinks and raw foods such as
salads, potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, bell peppers, and
sugar.
Patients with Bad-kan disorders may be instructed
to keep warm and perform vigorous exercise such as
running or dancing. Swimming in cold water is not
appropriate for Bad-kan conditions. Periodic emetics
(e.g., induced vomiting) are recommended as part of a
traditional health maintenance routine, since this
reduces the excessive amount of cold and damp that
tends to accumulate in the body. An environment that is
conducive to heat producing activities is beneficial,
including lots of exposure to warm sun and fires
burning in the home. External treatments may target the
Medicine of Tibet 1489
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 13 Pomegranate, an ingredient of
Se-Dru 5, a traditional herb medicine to reduce excessive
Bad-kan.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 14 Rhododendron, an ingredient of
Dhe-Nyom, a traditional herb medicine to reduce excessive
Bad-kan.
cautery and other forms of heat. Traditional herbal
remedies to reduce excessive Bad-kan are shown in
Figs. 13–16.
Pharmacology in Tibetan Medicine
Natural herbal preparations are a large part of therapy in
Tibetan medicine. The goal of herbal remedies is to
restore balance among the constituents of the body-
mind complex. The medicinal effects associated with
Tibetan preparations are not due to the presence of a
specific ingredient, as in western pharmaceuticals.
Rather, the herbal combinations act on the body-mind
aspects of the afflicted aggregates and elements to
restore balance. Remedies act on the specific imbal-
ance, while other ingredients support the aggregates
that are not maligned during the period of the inter-
vention, although they may be challenged during the
dynamics of therapy and healing (Fig. 17).
1490 Medicine of Tibet

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 17 Medical students cleaning

gathered herbs in Northern India.

Most of the ingredients in the Tibetan materia

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 15 Saffron, an ingredient of
Dhe-Nyom.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 16 A medical student gathering
herbs.
medica are herbs and plants. There are eight categories
of natural substances used in preparing prescribed
therapeutic remedies: precious metals and gems, stones,
earth medicines, trees, resins, plants, herbs, and animal
products (Clark 1995; Clifford 1990; Dash 1976). The
remedies can take ten forms: decoction, pills, powder,
gruels, medicinal butters and calxes, concentrated
extractions, medicinal wine, herbal medicine, and gems
as medicine. Enemas, especially if oily, mild, and
soothing, are useful for rlüng imbalances. Purgatives
reduce the heat in mKhris-pa conditions. Emetics reduce
water and mucous associated with excessive Bad-kan.
Tibetan herbal pills are often complex, with 3–150
herbs per formula. Each herbal formula is prescribed to
fit the manifestation of the disease and the evolving
condition of the individual patient. The herbs are often
sought from natural settings, often harvested from a
great distance or requiring expertise in climbing or
other skills to access the plants. The plants are gathered
under specified circumstances, including time of day,
phase of the moon, etc. Special mantras are often
recited during collection of the herbs, during prepara-
tion and after the pills are formed, to imbue the
remedies with healing qualities.
The physician often starts with less potent prepara-
tions and advances to stronger forms if necessary.
Typically, two to four formulas are prescribed for each
day at specific times. Morning remedies commonly
include those for Bad-kan disorders or digestive
disorders. Afternoon remedies are typically used to
treat mKhris-pa disorders. Remedies given in the late
afternoon or evening are usually given to treat rlüng
disorders. Herbal remedies are often modified at each
visit (Figs. 18 and 19).
The substance in which a medicine is dispensed is
called the medicine horse (Men-Ta) (Burang 1974).
Typical carrier agents include water, alcohol, sugar,
treacle, or honey. According to tradition, sugar is
the men-ta for dispelling mKhris-pa, treacle is the
carrier for reducing rlüng, and honey is selected for

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 18 Modern methods for making
TTM pills.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 19 Packaging the pills.
Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 20 Various forms of modern
Tibetan medicines.
overcoming Bad-kan. The compounded remedies are
sometimes coated with resins, so that they pass through
the stomach and into the intestine where they are
integrated into the body in accord with traditional
concepts of physiology (Fig. 20).
The art and science of preparing TTMs is based
on tastes and potencies. The tastes are associated
Medicine of Tibet 1491
with medicinal properties. Each taste is present as the
result of interaction between two or more elements.
Specific tastes can increase or decrease the activity
of specific aggregates. The text says that sweet, sour,
and salty tastes overcome (reduce) rlüng. Likewise,
bitter, sweet, and astringent abate excessive mKhris-pa,
and pungent, sour and salty tastes counter Bad-kan
(Table 4). These same tastes also describe the medi-
cinal properties of common foods and spices.
The properties of herbal remedies and traditional
medicines can be determined by the refined sense
perceptions of Tibetan doctors. The tastes and actions
of therapeutic agents on specific parts of the tongue
correspond with medicinal properties at specific parts
of the body. For example, medicines with astringent
tastes that influence the sides of the tongue may be
useful for treating imbalances that adversely influence
the gallbladder organ and associated dimensions,
including some migraine headaches. Knowledge about
tastes and medicinal actions of therapeutic agents is
embodied in a cultural tradition of health care, known
as microsystems of anatomic correspondence (Porkert
1974).
Typically the Tibetan pharmacist is also a physician.
Preparation of botanical medicines involves collection
of specimens, drying, cleaning, storage and prepara-
tion, detoxification and neutralization, and compound-
ing. Various parts of plants are gathered at different
seasons – fruits in the autumn, leaves during the
M
summer, branches and barks during the spring, and
roots during the winter. Mantras to invoke the Medicine
Buddha and other deities are often recited during
the time of collecting and during other stages in
processing to imbue the remedies with additional
potency (Fig. 21).
One fundamental difference between modern bio-
medical sciences and TTM is the notion about the
interdependent nature of reality. Interdependent reali-
ties include the participatory awareness of an observer
in interactions with the relative world of appearances,
including measurable phenomena. The perceiver, the
object of perception, and the sensory faculties for
perceptions are all interdependent. From this perspec-
tive, to exclude the observer from an investigation and
analysis of phenomena is akin to making an artificial
reality. Experiential qualities of relationships are valued
as much in TTM as are objective measures of form.
Indeed, one of the strengths of TTM is that mind and
body, and mundane issues and spiritual aspirations, are
each intimately linked with one another. The perspec-
tive of TTM and Tibetan Buddhism pose that the world
we experience exists only in the context of our human
presence and interactions. In short, the world is an
aspect of Mind. Questions posed by western health
scientists tend to assume that the nature of reality is
independent of the observer. This positivist view typically
1492 Medicine of Tibet

Medicine of Tibet. Table 4 Influence of tastes and qualities on the aggregates (adapted and modified from Clifford 1990: 120;
Lad 1984; and others)

Elements Taste Qualities Food and spices Aggregate increased Aggregate decreased

Earth–water Sweet Cooling Wheat, rice, peppermint Bad-kan Rlüng; mKhris-pa

Earth–fire Sour Heating Yogurt, cheese, lemon, rose hips mKhris-pa; Bad-kan Bad-kan
Water–fire Salty Heating Salt, kelp mKhris-pa; Bad-kan Rlüng
Water–wind Bitter Cooling Dandelion, turmeric Rlüng mKhris-pa; Bad-kan
Fire–wind Pungent Heating Onion, radish, ginger, garlic mKhris-pa; rlüng Bad-kan
Wind–earth Astringent Cooling Unripe banana, persimmon, Rlüng mKhris-pa; Bad-kan
goldenseal

realizing subjective well being for all involved in life

Medicine of Tibet. Fig. 21 Monastic community rituals for
blessing TTM medicines.
asks questions about form and status of external
phenomena – the “what” of measurable components of
nature. Thus, western sciences seem to be bound and
limited by concept, form and reliance on objective
measurements. TTM defers involvement of the inherent
mind-body split of western science and medicine by
defining mind as part – if not the source – of reality.
Thus, the very notion of disease and clinical reality as
we know it in western biomedicine are challenged in
TTM. TTM addresses the process-oriented issues about
“how” more than “what.” For example, “How might we
live within this precious human birth in a manner that
brings happiness to ourselves and all sentient beings?”
is a basic motivation among practitioners of TTM. The
focus is more on the dynamics of process and
relationship, rather than on the parts to be measured.
Yet form is not ignored in TTM – it is recognized as
simply one mode of perception and relationship among
many other possibilities. The dynamics of subtle
anatomy and the interactions among the elements and
aggregates are the core methods for identifying
imbalances to be addressed through traditional methods
of TTM.
Thus, a tension is acknowledged between biomedi-
cine and TTM, where TTM focuses on processes for
experiences, while modern biomedical care seems
intent upon attaining disease-free states of objective
health status for specific individuals. Yet, perhaps each
health care system makes sense when viewed from its
unique perspective. Each system is logically consistent
within itself.
Does TTM offer any opportunities for new under-
standings of health and well being among people in
western societies? That may depend upon the willing-
ness of western scientists to overcome some engrained
notions about the nature of reality and the nature of
mind (e.g., of the observer–participants) in scientific
investigations. Valid research methods to investigate
culturally different health care systems may make use
of hypothesis generation from the traditional percep-
tive, with psychometrically examined key measures
that support the traditional view, complemented by
known biomedical measures (Anderson 1992; Steiner
2003). Such methods for cross-cultural research, includ-
ing hypothesis generation from the traditional perspec-
tive, may yield new insights about best practices in
medical care.
Traditional Tibetan medicine offers an alternative
view to health and healthcare, as well as a choice to
western scientists. That choice is to consider comple-
menting the focus of western sciences on measurable
phenomena with an inward investigation about the
nature of mind of the perceiver. In some Tibetan
schools of mindfulness training, the inwardly directed
investigations are initially analytic and conceptual in
nature, but proceed to realizations about the nature of
mind itself that are embodied within our human
experience – but are not limited by ordinary dualistic
conceptual thinking (Thondup 1998; Wallace 1996).
That choice is available for any person who is willing to
focus on the mindfulness of life experiences, as offered
through the guidance of lineages and teachings of
wisdom traditions from Tibet, including TTM. The
study of TTM offers an opportunity to examine a
participatory universe. In short, entering the path of
health, healing and well being in accord with principles
of TTM, is a choice.

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Medicine in Africa
J OHN M. J ANZEN , E DWARD C. G REEN
Health and healing practices in sub-Saharan Africa have M
evolved over three millennia in constant interchange
with those of other world regions. The medicine of
Ancient Egypt shaped ideas of the civilizations around
it, including the medicine of classical Greek and Roman
Antiquity. This complex in turn spread to African regions,
through the influence of Islamic Medicine. Another
dimension of Islam, “prophetic medicine,” brought
notions of health and healing to Africa from Persia and
Arabia.1 Christian faith healing, which spread first with
early Christianity across North Africa and Ethiopia, later
was part of European colonial expansion to sub-Saharan
Africa. Post-Enlightenment scientific medicine, building
upon ancient medicine, brought its ideas of public health
and curative medicine. All these perspectives coexist in
the early twenty-first century with African perspectives
on health, sickness, and healing.
1
The term “Islamic medicine” encompasses the traditions of
medical theory, practice and literature that have been
developed in Islamic cultural contexts and expressed most
commonly in the languages of Islam, principally Arabic,
Persian, Turkish, and Urdu. There are two medical traditions
that developed in Islamic contexts. One ultimately derives its
authority, and many of its theoretical and practical compo-
nents, from ancient Greek and Hellenist sources, called in this
essay Islamic medicine; the other encompasses traditions
associated with the Prophet Muhammad, or prophetic
medicine.
1494 Medicine in Africa
What then is African healing and medicine? Africa is
of course a vast continent with a multitude of societies
of great diversity, and we admit a certain hubris with
the very idea of generalizing about it. We will focus our
attention on the ethnolinguistic group known as Niger-
Congo, within which we have ourselves had most of
our experience.2 This group of societies is geographi-
cally widespread and numerically large, covering sub-
Saharan Africa from the Wolof of Senegal to the
Swahili of coastal East Africa, and down to Southern
Africa. The Niger-Congo grouping relates the Bantu-
speaking peoples of the Congo basin and southeastern
Africa historically and culturally to the dense popula-
tion of West Africa. All of these societies share,
in addition to historically related languages, “attitudes
about God, religion, kinship, the nature of the
world, and life” (Murphy 1972: 179), and within them,
health-related practices and beliefs.
Tools and Perspectives for the Historical Study of
Changing Healing Traditions
Ecologically distinctive zones of the rainforest,
savanna, and desert have shaped both health and
adaptive responses by human communities. The modes
of living – hunting and gathering, cultivation, herding,
and then urban societies – also shaped the underlying
determinants of health.
Hunters and gatherers, for example, such as the
remaining Khoisan speakers of Southern Africa in
the early twentieth century, practiced infanticide for
population control and birth spacing of up to 4 years
between children. They also picked up camp whenever
diseases broke out, in order to reduce deaths in the
settlement. Given their small population concentra-
tions, contagious diseases did not have a chance to take
hold and become endemic. The health of the band was
promoted through spirit healing ceremonies led by
leading healer-singers (Katz 1982; Katz et al. 1997).
Both the West African and the Bantu-speaking
civilizations, defined primarily by sedentary agricul-
ture, have also been cattle herders and pastoral nomads
throughout their histories. Where the tsetse fly has been
absent – as across the Sahel, the eastern Sudan, in the
lake region of East-Central Africa, and into moderate
Southern Africa – pastoralism has brought with it a
distinctive set of ideas about health, sickness, and
medicine.
As livestock herding spread southward about six
millennia ago, it skirted the rainforest area. This created
at the center of the African continent a vast population
2
For Janzen, Central Africa (specifically, the Western
southern savanna and Kongo coastal regions, the Great Lakes
region, coastal Tanzania), and Southern Africa (Swaziland
and Capetown); for Green, Swaziland, Mozambique,
Southern Africa, East and West Africa.
without domestic large animals. As a result, this
population is unable to digest animal milk – a condition
known as lactose intolerance. The boundary between
pastoralist and nonpastoralist societies has historically
been that between rainforest and wet savanna on the
one hand and the dry savanna and the desert on
the other. On the one hand, the pastoralists have had to
manage their herds, concentrating on good breeding,
learning the politics of being good neighbors (or
superior raiders) on their annual transhumance treks to
find seasonal pasture, and understanding the danger
zones of the tsetse fly’s habitat. On the other hand,
the cultivators without large livestock have had to
emphasize crop fertility, soil fallowing, irrigation and
water management, and the importance of rainfall.
In West Africa, the domestication of plants and
animals in sedentary settlements was well underway by
4000 BCE. Urban centers and stratified societies
emerged in the West African and the Sudanic savanna
by the early centuries of the first millennium AD, and
trade routes linked West Africa with the Mediterranean
and Europe. By the early second millennium AD the
influences of Islam and Arabia were felt in the savanna,
but pre-Islamic healing rituals or therapeutic practices
were not fully supplanted.
The spread of food cultivation and sedentary social
modes southward through and around the equatorial
rainforest has come to be associated with the spread of
the Bantu, Cushitic, and Nilotic cultures and languages.
Perhaps as early as 1000 BCE the Bantu languages had
begun to spread from the region that is now Cameroon
and Nigeria. These languages ultimately came to be
spoken throughout the whole of Central, Eastern, and
Southern Africa, facilitating exchange of ideas and
practices, including those related to healing. Food pro-
duction and iron working spread rapidly through this
area during the first millennium AD. The sedentariza-
tion of community life in sub-Saharan Africa and
the domestication of food plants and livestock pro-
vided a moving threshold that also affected health and
healing. With the transition to cultivation and larger,
sedentary communities, new diseases appeared. There
was sleeping sickness (endemic in the rainforests, a
major threat to pastoralists), malaria (endemic in rainy
forested areas), and smallpox (endemic once popula-
tion concentrations emerged). Together with wide-
spread environmental risks such as poisonous vipers,
these diseases offer examples of health threats that
encouraged the creation of “medicines” directed at them.
They also show the vocabulary of health-related terms
and concepts in a common linguistic and cultural
background.
Language history – along with archeology and the
study of the distribution of cultural practices including
uses of plants, animals, and other natural substances –
offers one of the most promising avenues for the study

of the history of African medicine and health related
practices (Ehret 1998; Janzen 1992; Schoenbrun 1998;
Vansina 1990). Analysis of the words and their
meanings and uses by language family permits the
determination of which concepts, practices, terms, and
phrases are part of the institutional infrastructure of
these varied adaptations. Language analysis assists in
determining which are inventions along the way, and
which are borrowed from elsewhere. Language history
also allows the reasonable dating of the origin and
spread of specialized institutions, practitioners, techni-
ques, concepts and ideas, and materia medica.3
The common vocabulary of the Bantu expansion
from about 1500 BCE includes terms for suffering
(*-duaad-), healer (*-ganga-), medicinal plant (*-ti-),
the power of words and will to affect health in social
relationships (*-dog-), and song–dance ceremonies of
trance and healing (*-goma-) are found throughout
Equatorial, Central, East and Southern Africa (Janzen
1992; Vansina 1990).4 Such a constellation also
characterizes medicine on the Guinea coast and West
Africa. As this cultural complex moved eastward to
the Great Lakes region, the basic term for healer
became bifurcated and the root term for “big man”
or chief (*-kumu-) came to be applied to diviner
(*-mufuumu-), suggesting the importance of the diviner
in social control (Schoenbrun 1998).
Profound transformations were brought to African
medicine by the mercantile trade of the sixteenth to
the nineteenth centuries, and then by nineteenth and
twentieth century European colonialism. Foreign trade,
technology, ideologies, and social forms were often
3
One of the best methods for reaching back through
contemporary and recent African experience to find the faint
images of ancient thought and practice is to follow the
widespread vocabulary having to do with health, the nature of
disease, and the ideas and techniques of healing. Sub-Saharan
healing is not codified in written texts, but it is transmitted
through rich oral instructions from generation to generation.
These texts and their vocabulary are as persistent and more
durable – in the tropics – than papyrus or parchment.
Historical linguistics is based on the premise that core
vocabulary in language remains relatively constant and can
be traced by comparing languages with a historical affinity.
Core vocabulary shows both lexical and phonetic change at a
rate of about 20% per millennium. Thus, if two languages are
shown to have a 60% common core vocabulary and related
phonetic structure, they are about 2,000 year apart in their
history. Newer techniques, ideas and related terms will show a
different distribution, whose origins can sometimes be traced
by examining the distribution and the phonetic transforma-
tions they have undergone. Phonetic changes occur in certain
directions within the basic human sound-making potential.
This “historical linguistic” methodology permits scholars to
study concepts at a depth of up to 5,000 year.
4
A term headed by an asterisk (e.g., *-ganga-) indicates that
it is a widespread cognate in either the proto-Bantu or proto-
regional reconstructed core of verbal concepts.
Medicine in Africa 1495
imposed by force. New ideas about health were part of
this colonialism, ideas that discredited African medical
systems. Missionaries and colonial regimes came to
evangelize Africa. Just as Islamic crusaders had
attacked “pagan” African forms of healing and religion,
so Western Christian missions discredited the basis of
knowledge as the overall approach to ritual healing. At
a time when early positivist science was analyzing the
causes of contagious diseases and public health cam-
paigns were being waged to make Africa safe for
“progress,” assumptions that social dynamics could
cause sickness were dismissed as witchcraft. Since they
had cures for diseases such as yaws, leprosy, and later
malaria and dysentery, Christian missions and their
hospitals contributed to the conversions of many
Africans. Although Christianity gained widespread
following in sub-Saharan Africa, many of the marks of
the African worldview of misfortune have been reincor-
porated or persisted quietly in private. In the postcolonial
era – generally from 1960 on – the process continues of
sorting out what indeed were precolonial health codes
and realities and evaluating what in them is of importance
and might be endorsed, revived, and further developed.
The latest economic and health crises lent an
immediacy to these debates. African traditional medi-
cine continues to be widespread, as biomedicine is
expensive and often locally unavailable. The epidemic
crisis of HIV/AIDS has revived the question of whether
the African pharmacopoeia has something to offer.
M
Such pressing issues have again raised questions about
the fundamental character of African medicine and its
ideas of health.
Interpreting Practical Applications of Materia
Medica
Examples of pragmatic and empirical solutions to
health threats include diagnoses and interventions for
bone-setting, midwifery, and a host of specific
interventions for such ailments as fever, rheuma-
tism, intestinal disorders, parasites, lactation
deficiency, earache, toothache, headache, epilep-
sy, menstrual disorders, and more. Most of the
African pharmacopoeia under discussion here is
derived from plants, but medicines from animal
parts, sea shells, coral, soils and other substances
of natural origin may also be used. Medicine may
be drunk as herbal decoctions, or they may be
ingested through inhalation, vaccination (dermal
incisions), enemas, vaginal infusions, massage,
bathing, or fumigation, in forms that include
powders, porridges, soups, ointments, smoke,
fumes, or eye drops (Bibeau 1980).
These medications variously reflect the desert,
savanna and rainforest ecologies and pastoral and
1496 Medicine in Africa
farming ways of life. Following are two examples of
pastoral knowledge of sleeping sickness and its vector
the tsetse fly. The early nineteenth century Nguni
king Mzila, as he was expanding his territory in South-
eastern Africa, concentrated his people in large
settlements and had them garden close-in territories;
then he sent his hunters out to kill all large wildlife in
the savanna forests at a greater distance before allowing
his herdsmen to take the cattle into those areas
(Swynnerton, in Ford 1979). The Turkana pastoral
nomads of northern Kenya are well aware of the
dangers posed by the sleeping sickness bearing tsetse
fly to their cattle and themselves during the rainy season,
especially in the lush grasses near streams. Therefore
they send out young herders with the least valuable
animals to graze in those sites to establish their safety
from the tsetse before bringing in fertile cows. (Gray
1997, based on fieldwork with the Turkana in Kenya).
Malaria is an endemic disease over much of Africa.
It is usually that variety of malaria for which the
Anopheles mosquito serves as vector. It became a
problem for West and Equatorial African cultivators at
the time they settled into sedentary communities and
began to clear forests for crops. A genetic adaptation to
the high death rates occurred soon after, in the form of
the blood cell sickling that in its heterozygous form
created immunity to malaria (although proving lethal in
its homozygous form). Clearly no one was aware of the
genetic structure of this adaptation to malaria. Howev-
er, settlers preferred to build villages and towns on
breezy hillsides rather than in the quiet thickets. Thus,
before quinine and the late nineteenth century associa-
tion of mosquitoes with malaria, breezy hilltops were
the preferred settlement site, provided they were near
sources of good water.
Smallpox too has been a scourge in sub-Saharan
Africa since the advent of cultivation and large
concentrations of people (Dawson 1992: 90). The
central placement of Ipoona, the god of smallpox, in the
pantheon of Yoruba (and other West African) societies,
suggests that it has a history of millennia rather than
centuries. In addition to the sacrifices made to the angry
god Ipoona, who could kill, a pattern of actions during
smallpox epidemics suggests pragmatic public health
consciousness as well. Examples include the separate
burial of victims, the abstinence from mourning in
close proximity to the victims, and quarantining infected
households or settlements. Most intriguingly, they
refer to attempts to immunize those not yet infected by
taking pus from the poxes of infected individuals and
introducing it into scratches in their skin.5
Immunization as seen in the case of smallpox may be
part of a broader principle of confronting the evil of
5
See Green 1999: 69–70 for such evidence in southern
Africa.
disease or threat. Several kinds of poisonous vipers
have posed a serious problem in the lands of the
Nyamwezi and Sukuma peoples of Western Tanzania.
Organizations of snake handling experts actively
promote the encounter with these poisonous vipers
and other snakes through public dance performances in
which they demonstrate that they can come to terms
with the threat. The demonstration includes allowing
the otherwise venomous snakes to bite them. However,
the snake handlers have been inoculated with small
doses of venom that they have milked from the vipers.
This understanding of immunization is mainly avail-
able to those who have been appropriately initiated
to the Snake Handling Order. These examples of
immunization to smallpox and snake venom are part
of the much wider notion of the need to incorporate
or confront the threat in order to overcome it.
Curative plants are central to African medicine. Two
examples illustrate the ways in which specific problems
were, and are, approached with the curative powers of
plants and techniques. Mirau, a herbalist of the Meru
people studied by Finnish ethnographer Harjula (1980)
who records many of the healer’s herbal treatments as
one-disease, one-plant related, practices a widespread
treatment for intestinal microorganisms. Although this
conveys a somewhat simplistic picture of African
herbalism, it does permit a clear examination of
Mirau’s work from the outside. One of Mirau’s 200
single-plant treatments is for children’s diarrhea, a
serious problem in many regions of the continent where
infant mortality often reaches more than 100 per 1,000
births. Using the plant known locally as mamiso
(Bidens pilosa L.), Mirau takes 15–20 flowers and
boils them to obtain one dose, which is given twice
daily as oral medicine. According to Watt and Breyer-
Brandwijk’s (1962) massive compilation of East and
Southern African medicinal and poisonous plants, this
plant carries antibacterial substances against micro-
organisms, including five enteric pathogens. The same
plant is reported in use against dysentery and colic in
other regions of East and Southern Africa.
In another well-documented study from the national
Zairian Research Institute (Bibeau 1980), the work of
six healers in Kinshasa was examined for effectiveness
in 22 diabetes cases. Independent examination of blood
sugar levels revealed an average glycine rate of
500 mg/108 ml of blood. After treatment, which lasted
a week or longer, 17 of the cases experienced a decline
of glycine levels to an average of 100 mg/108 ml of
blood. Although a surprisingly large diversity of plants
was used in preparation of the oral medications, several
plants stand out for their repetition from healer to
healer, including Crossopteryx febrifuga (Rubiaceae),
Nauclea latifolia (Rubiaceae), Anchonames difformis
(Arceae), and Bridelia feruginea (Euphorbiaceae), the
latter of which is used in Ghana for diabetes therapy.
 Medicine in Africa 1497

Some of the Kinshasa treatments were accompanied by

dietary proscriptions for salt, ripe mangoes, pepper,
beer, manioc, and mushrooms.
Thus far these treatments have appeared to be of the
empirical type that scientifically oriented Westerners
would recognize. However, in classical African
medical thought the added dimensions that Westerners
might call “symbolic” or “social” are added without a
conceptual break. In the next two examples of
treatment with materia medica the fusion of the natural
and the human dimension is evident; they deal with two
types of bodily swelling.
Mama Mankomba of Mbemba village in the Luozi
region of Lower Zaire was well known for her
treatment for bodily swelling. She distinguished
between two types of swelling, the first thought to
be due to heart congestion, the second to poisoning, the
result of anger growing out of animosity. Simple
swelling was dealt with by an initial emetic from
the drops of sap of the finger cactus (diza kia nlembo,
Euphorbia tirucalli L.) with a soapy base to keep the
poison from harming the body. This was followed by a
potion made from the roots of six savanna plants taken
three times daily (Nlolo, Annona arenaria Thonn,
Annonaceae; Mumpala-mbaki, Crossopteryx febrifuga
(Afz. ex G. Don) Benth. = Rubiaceae; Nkizu, Syzygium
guineense (Willd.) DC. = Myrtaceae; Votila, Psoros-
permum febrifugum Spachh. = Guteriferaceae; Luvete,
Hymenocardia acida Tul. = Euphorbiaceae; Kinsangu- Medicine in Africa. Fig. 1 Kongo healer-herbalist Kitembo
M
la, Maprounea africana Muell. Arg. = Euphorbiaceae). of Balari commune in North Manianga stands in a forest
Dietary restrictions against sugar, salt, and pepper were clearing with a handful of leaves collected from wild plants,
also imposed. Poisoning cases received the same initial as is most of his pharmacopoeia. However, other Kongo
purge, but were followed by a second purge of the bark healer-herbalists tend botanical gardens for their most
frequently used herbaria. (Photo by Janzen.)
scrapings of only the kinsangula plant with salt and
palm oil to provoke diarrhea and vomiting. Although
Mama Mankomba treated the physical manifestations shift from pragmatic to ritualized therapy that occurs
of anger illness, she refused to become involved with because the misfortune or affliction is perceived to be
the deeper causes of anger which required conflict fraught with anxiety and fear of pollution by both
resolution and judicial action (Janzen 1978). human and superhuman conflict (Janzen and Prins
The use of multiple plants and techniques not only 1981). This shift amounts to a purposeful amplification
introduces a degree of complexity from the botanical in practical care with affective symbols referring to the
and chemotherapeutic compound involved, but also human dimension, to spirits, and to efforts to manipulate
adds to these symbolic classifications, names, songs, them. Usually only consecrated persons are considered
and other ritual connotations and devices, and above capable of handling such powerful therapies as the
all, the human dimension in health and disease. Studies purification of polluted persons and settings, making
of plant uses in circumstances where both chemothera- sacrifices to ancestors or neutralizing menacing spirits.
peutic and consciously exercised symbolic principles The pervasiveness of divination in treating African
and human issues are at work need to be examined sickness and misfortune attests to the importance of
further (Figs. 1 and 2). causation, especially the suspected shift in cause from a
mundane to a highly charged cause in the human or
spirit realm. Usually consultation with a diviner is not
Divination: Differentiating What “Just Happens” undertaken until there is sufficient reason in the kin
from “Agency-Caused” Misfortune group of the sufferer to suspect causes other than
As important as practical medicines is the pervasive natural ones. Such a precipitating factor may be the
concern that Kongo therapy managers spoke of as worsening turn of a sick person, a sudden and
“something else going on” (Janzen 1978). There is a mysterious death, the coincidence of a sickness with
1498 Medicine in Africa

Medicine in Africa. Fig. 2 A 1969 botanical survey map by Mabanza Philip of “plants planted by man” in Kumba village in
North Manianga, Lower Congo, Democratic Republic of Congo. The map shows 56 varieties of shrubs and trees for food,
medicinal, ritual, and other purposes. The ba, oil palm (3) part of the ancient West African domestic plant set, is used for
cooking oil, palm wine, and raffia fiber. Others, such as payi-payi (25) and avocado (52) are much cherished edible plants.
Kienga (22) and lubota (42) are potent medicinal plants; lemba-lemba (6) is a sedative and a symbolic plant of the entrances;
mpese-mpese, a poplar, used to outline chief’s courtyards, here marks the men’s lodge. Kidiza (53) is a cactus whose poisonous
sap is used to catch fish and for emetics. The nsanda fig tree (Ficus bubu, sp. = Moraceae) (1), a harbinger of water, thus of a
good village site, is said to be the first planted to determine the quality of the site. A botanical map such as this reveals the
2000-year history of plant domestication and agriculture, just as the illustration of healer Kitembo with wild plants in his hand
suggests the continuing history of foraging. Both modes of making a living are joined in Kongo culture and medicine.

a conflict in the close social environment of the sufferer,
or the paradoxical occurrence of a disease on only one
side of a family. In such cases the clients are looking for
answers to questions not only of “Why did it happen?”
but “Why did it happen to us?” and possibly “Who
caused it?” and “What should we do about it?”
Scientific explanations of health may not necessarily
lay to rest these questions, which are of a different order
from the ideas in natural causation. A community may
know very well that the spirochete transmitted by the
bite of an anopheles mosquito causes malaria in the
blood of a human. But the diviner may shed light on
the question of why some people are infected and not
others, or why some died when all were infected.
Divination may also clarify the human causes behind
accidents or provide a pattern with which to explain
them. Western medicine is often good at answering
“why?” but not “why me?”
In the broad West Africa belt from Central Nigeria to
Ghana, the prevailing mode of divination is known as
Ifa. A cup bearing a set of usually 16 cowries or pods is
thrown out into a tray. The combination of “ups” and
“downs” is coded to indicate a set of verses, numbering
in the thousands, which illuminate the life situation
 Medicine in Africa 1499

involved in the affair before the diviner. The tray or the

cup usually bears the image of Eshu Elegba, the
trickster, who is believed somehow to hold in his hands
individuals’ and families’ fortunes. At least he attempts
ceaselessly to surprise humans with contradictory and
unintended turns of events, often for the worse. Thus he
and his character of trickery, deceit, and surprise
embody the essence of what divination seeks to
illuminate (Pemberton, in Pelton 1980: 136).
On the Southern Savanna, from the Atlantic coast
southeastward to the Copper Belt, the Ngombo basket
mode of divination is common. Its thorough integration
into the societies suggests that the genre may be a
thousand years old. Carved figurines and natural
objects, representing human situations and predica-
ments, lie together in the basket. As the basket is
shaken, one of the objects emerges at the basket’s rim
between two lumps of clay, one red, and the other
white. This “gateway” of white and red suggests the
liminality of the threshold between the visible and
the invisible spirit world. The diviner reads the case
before him in the light of the emergent object or the
constellation of objects in the basket (Turner 1975:
315–316).
In Southern Africa a common mode of divination is a
bag of animal bones and perhaps seashells (brought
or traded from coastal areas) which are shaken out
and thrown onto a mat before the diviner and the client Medicine in Africa. Fig. 3 Divination by means of
(Fig. 3). The bones, whose constellation represents throwing “bones” in Swaziland. (Photo by Green.) M
issues in human life, relationships, and the world of
spirits, may be combined with trances to indicate a
complex hierarchy of causation behind the surface as mentioned earlier. The debate focuses on the nature of
realities of a misfortune. the other logic – the human and spirit logic – and the
These and many other types of divination in sub- relationship between these and the empirical or “natural”
Saharan Africa are predicated on the assumption that realm of causes and cures. The arguments range along a
sickness or other misfortunes may be caused by an spectrum from prioritizing the empirical treatments to
untoward turn of events in the human or related spirit charging that witchcraft overrules other causalities in
world. The immediate cause or agent such as the sign or African medical thought. A range of terms has been put
symptom of disease is thought to require interpretation forward to identify the several logics that work together
in the light of ultimate natural, human or spirit agents. in African healing thought, as for example naturalistic,
Thus, despite widespread acceptance of modern personalistic, God-caused, or human-caused.
science, divination continues to be a common method Many scholars of African medicine today would not
for discerning the dividing line between that which be likely to use Foster’s global distinction between
“just happens” and the human or mystical factor that is “personalistic” and “naturalistic” treatments (1976:
seen as important in the pattern of misfortune. 775), because it just does not fit well. Illnesses that
“just happen” – we would say naturally – are attributed
to God, a personalistic force. Nor would this dichotomy
Science or Magic? A History of Scholarly Debates very readily do justice to impersonal ideas of pollution
About Etiology in African Medicine brought about by exposure to the dead, to certain diseases,
Anthropologists and other scholars have debated the and brushing one’s feet against polluting substances.
nature of African medicine and thought ever since Similarly, few would accept Murdock’s global survey
David Livingstone published his debate with an of theories of illness, in which African societies, based
Mbundu rain maker (Janzen 1978: 38–40), designed on the survey’s reading of available ethnographies,
to show that the latter, although rational, was arguing demonstrated a prevalence of supernatural (including
with false premises. All participants in the anthropo- fate, ominous sensations, contagion, mystical retribu-
logical debates accept empirically effective medicines, tion, soul loss, spirit aggression, sorcery, and witchcraft)
1500 Medicine in Africa
over natural (including infection, stress, deterioration,
and accident) etiologies (1980: 48). Nevertheless,
British anthropologist Pool, who has studied Cameroo-
nian societies (1994), has joined Murdock and scholars
of other disciplines, missionaries, travelers, government
administrators (pre- and postcolonial, foreign and
African), doctors and health officials, and economic
development professionals, who have simply taken
these simplistic dichotomies and characterized African
health beliefs as operating primarily, or solely, in the
domain of “personalistic” or “supernatural” shaped
witchcraft, sorcery and/or spirits.
Evans-Pritchard’s classic on Azande ideas of
misfortune (1937: 67) would seem to endorse their
views. Yet Evans-Pritchard has been much misrepre-
sented by his excerpt on the Azande granary’s collapse
being attributed to witchcraft rather than natural causes.
A careful reading of Evans-Pritchard reveals that he
describes a “hierarchy of resorts ranging from simple to
serious, with recourse first to empirical treatments, then
to magical interventions” (Janzen 1981: 188–189). Yet
many scholars of African healing and religion, who
have experienced attributions to witchcraft for events
Westerners would say were caused by gravity, germs,
or sheer coincidence, prioritize this explanation over
one in which events merely occur because they occur
(e.g., see Turner on the Ndembu 1967: 300–301).
A third group of anthropologists began to find
evidence of empiricism and rational, logical thought in
African ethnomedicine (Horton 1967; Fortes 1976;
Yoder 1982; Morris 1998). Horton in particular sought
parallels between African and Western thought, includ-
ing in the domain of health and illness. Anthropological
opinion has changed considerably since the 1970s, in
part because of the involvement of anthropologists in
applied research of infectious diseases such as child
diarrhea and sexually transmitted diseases (Inhorn and
Brown 1990; Green 1999).
For example, recent research suggests that while
magico-religious or supernatural ideas may often be
associated with mental illness and certain other
conditions, naturalistic etiologic notions rooted in
empiricism are often found to underlie the infectious
and contagious diseases that have always accounted
for the greatest morbidity and mortality (Green 1999).
Diseases such as malaria, tuberculosis, schistosomiasis,
cholera, amoebic dysentery, AIDS and other sexually
transmitted diseases, typhoid, acute respiratory infections
including pneumonia, yellow fever, leprosy, and dengue
tend to be understood within a framework that may be
called indigenous contagion theory. In this analytic
framework, one becomes ill because of impersonal
exposure. One comes into contact with something that
anyone could come into contact with, not because an
avenging spirit or an ill-intended person singles one out
for misfortune in the form of sickness (Green 1999).
A fourth and final group of scholars have sought to
formulate the relationship between disparate types of
logic and misfortune causation in African thought.
Morris notes that Chewa medicine includes an
“empirical herbalist tradition, based on a belief in the
intrinsic efficacy of certain plant and animal sub-
stances.” Yet it also includes “a cosmological tradition,
which sees the human subject as a microcosm of the
world and in which health was seen as restoring a
balance or mix between certain vital ‘humors’ or
principles, and a tradition that focused on ‘communal
rites of affliction,’ and involved spirit healing” (Morris
1998: 86). How do these multiple realms of African
healing relate to each other?
The late Rwandan scholar and physician Pierre-
Claver Rwangabo offers an insight into contemporary
African thinking on the question. Even though not all
aspects of the Rwandan medicine system are amenable
to modern science, Rwangabo believes that it is a part
of modern reality rather than a fossil. He divides the
causal domains of Rwandan medicine into “physical”
and “mystical” causes. Diseases range across a variety
of types which may be attributed to either causal
category or to both. Rwangabo’s medical training is
evident in his listing of disease classes that include:
parasitic diseases, microbial diseases, systemic diseases
and bodily accidents, gynecological and obstetrical
diseases, and psycho-mental and behavioral diseases.
But under the latter group he identifies current
psychopathologies that entail abnormal behavior as
understood in traditional thought and diseases believed
to be caused by broken prohibitions and beliefs about
ancestors (abazimu) and other spirits (ibitega, ama-
hembe, nyabingi, amashitani, amajini) which often are
identified in relation to mental illnesses. “Poisoning,”
the result of human aggression, is a major aspect of the
human source of misfortune. Misfortunes brought on
by the breach of social rules also have a mystical
though not necessarily mysterious causal character.
Rwangabo’s insight into the character of traditional
medicine lies in the observation that most pathologies
may have both a physical and a mystical dimension.
This affects the way therapy will be arranged. The
decision to seek physical or other therapy has to do
with the context in which it occurs, its severity, the
suspected human etiology, and response to treatment.
This emphasis on the context of the causal attribution
makes all the difference in how sufferers, their therapy
managers, diviners, healers and medical practitioners
will treat illness. If the misfortune is considered to be
ordinary and predictable, it will be seen along the lines
of the material world. If catastrophic forces or
circumstances have precipitated it, or if it seems to be
the result of the chaos of underlying affairs in the
human and mystical realm, it must be handled
differently. Thus the same condition may need to be

treated with different medicines. The first realm we
might term “natural,” the second “unnatural.” But this
dichotomy requires closer examination so as not simply
to read into it influences of Western thinking.
In widespread sub-Saharan African parlance in the
twentieth century, the natural realm is associated with
God, or caused by God – the God of the created
universe (Turner 1969: 52; Orley 1970: 137; Swantz
1970; Ngubane 1977: 22–24; Gilles 1976: 358–369;
Janzen 1978: 44–49; Davis 2000: 94–5), not the God
of a mechanistic Enlightenment world nor the God of
puritanical retribution for human sin, as in the African
Islamic or Christian view. Rather, God-caused misfor-
tune is widely seen to be the created order of things
such as the seasons and rhythms of birth and death in
society and in the surrounding world. The death of an
elderly person would be “in the created order,” whereas
the death of a child-bearing mother, for example, would
be seen as “unnatural,” or caused by some other human
or spirit force. The unnatural source of misfortune –
which may be manifested in an otherwise scientifically
understood disease – may be attributed to human error
or malicious motive, arising from the many incon-
sistencies inherent in human society, or the deceptive,
antisocial nature of some individuals. This view of
humanity often includes the ancestors or demigods who
have a vested interest in the outcome of human affairs,
especially in their clans and localities.
Paradigms in African Medical Thinking
Sub-Saharan African understandings of health, sick-
ness and healing are often couched ideas about the
nature of the world and life within it, ideas or images
which offer powerful metaphors with which to make
sense of suffering and uncertainty. These ideas are
discernible in verbal concepts that have a deep history
and broad geographical and cultural distribution and a
continuing use in diagnosis, the formulation of the
sickness experience, and in therapies.6
The first organizing idea defines an ordered structure
of the body. Any disruption, negation, or distortion of
this ideal suggests sickness, as expressed in a verbal
cognate that extends from West to Equatorial Africa –
eela or ele in Yoruba of Nigeria (Buckley 1985); beela
in Kongo of Western Zaire (Janzen 1978, 1992). This
notion often relates to a nonverbal code of three or
more colors and related substances used in medicine
and ritual to situate the body within a wider cosmology.
Chalk or kaolin from stream banks is used to represent
purity and wholeness; camwood or other red is used to
6
This is the most recent of a series of formulations of such
broad ideas in sub-Saharan African medicine. The present
essay is particularly informed by “sub-Saharan African
Healing” (Janzen 1997).
Medicine in Africa 1501
represent transition and danger. Charcoal or a substitute
represents human chaos. White is associated with
goodness and the legitimacy of the created order. Chalk
is the most widespread of these colors used in healing
and ritual. For example, chalk is smeared onto the face
and body to represent the presence of ancestors, white
beads are strung around the body or head to represent
spirit possession, flour or another white powder is used
to trace the outlines of sacred space, and white sap may
allude to milk or semen as sources of life. Whiteness
represents the realm of the water, the spirits, and the
beyond. It usually stands for the clarity and goodness of
the spiritual world where human life is rooted. Usually,
the colors are used in combination. Redness, smeared
on the face and body, dyed into cloth, or covering a
ritual object, appears alongside whiteness to suggest
the juxtaposition of “the white” with transition and
danger. The combination suggests power that can build
up the created order but can also destroy it. Hierarchies
of spirits may appear represented in these two colors.
Charcoal, the remains of fire, represents the chaos and
destructiveness of human life left to itself. In associa-
tion with white, this chaos and energy is balanced by
the clarity, legitimacy, and order of spiritual truth.
Turner wrote the classic study of this color code in sub-
Saharan African ritual about the Ndembu of northern
Zambia (1967: 59–92).
In a second idea, balance or harmony is necessary to
a state of health in the relationship between an
M
individual and the people surrounding him or her, as
well as between the human community and the natural
and spiritual environment. The verbal concept lunga
refers to a principle of health in the Zulu society of
South Africa (Ngubane 1977) and the Kongo society
of Western Congo (Janzen 1978) and to a type of
healer in the Luba-influenced Tabwa culture of the
western shores of Lake Tanganyika (Davis 2000). In
regions influenced by Galenic humoral theory via
Islamic medicine, balance may have the connotation of
an equilibrium between the humors and between heat
and cold. Balance between opposing humors or fluids
leads to health, imbalance to disease.
The idea of balance or harmony often extends to
relations with kinsmen, neighbors and others with
whom people come into regular social contact. Social
disharmony leads to resentment, anger, envy, evil-
wishing, cursing, and gossip, and often finds expression
in sorcery and witchcraft. Cases of illness or misfortune
that seem particularly dramatic or ambiguous are
commonly a cause for divination.
A third concept is that of “coolness” as grace and
health, in contrast to the “heat” of conflict and ill-health
(widely distributed in sub-Saharan Africa under the
term *-pod- in connection with cooling down, being
cured). Conflict and anger are often associated with
heat and fire that like energy out of control can cause
1502 Medicine in Africa
great destruction, disease, and death (among the
Ndembu of northern Zambia, Turner 1969: 27–31;
among the Tabwa of eastern Congo, Davis 2000:
58–60). Medicines that extinguish the fire or cool the
situation or sufferer are administered as an antidote to
the dangerous condition. A balance between the
extremes of fire and the cold of death are regarded as
important for health and life (in the widespread ngoma
ritual of healing, Janzen 1992; among the Hemba of
eastern Congo, Blakeley and Blakeley 1994). The sub-
Saharan African concept of the “cool” extends an
aesthetic notion widely seen in the arts and in human
relations into a definition of health.
Fourth, the widespread concept of “flow and
blockage” is the closest to a classical African anatomy
that inspires clear ideas about health and infuses
numerous therapeutic practices. The prevalence of
purgatives and emetics, fertility medicines, and herbal
drinks in the African tool kit reflects this conceptual
scheme (Janzen 1978: 170). However, the physiologi-
cal coordinates are usually linked to the wider world of
a person’s relationships in society, if not to society itself
as a body. In fact, an outside observer sees a clear
homology between the physical realm of the body and
exchanges in society. Both are seen as needing to flow
openly to thrive. Just as food and fluids need to be
ingested for the physical body to be healthy, so the
body social needs to be fed with reciprocal gifts and
gestures of good will. Grudges, envy, and ill will in the
social body are seen to cause blockage in the physical
body (Taylor 1992).
A fifth idea expresses purity, a ritual state in which
the dimensions of the human world are in order; its
opposite is a state in which these affairs are out of order,
causing ritual pollution or sickness. Several Africanists
have noted the importance of the antonymous concepts
of pollution and purity and have noted practices related
to these ideas in widely distributed Bantu-speaking
societies (e.g., among the Kongo of Western Equatorial
Africa, Janzen 1982; the Lele of southern Congo,
Douglas 1966; among Nguni-societies of southern
Africa, Hammond-Tooke 1981; Ngubane 1977; and in
Mozambique and elsewhere, Green 1999). Pollution
commonly results from mystical contamination, which
in turn is caused by death (including abortion) and
women’s reproductive processes (birth, menstrual
blood, breast milk). The distinguishing feature in all of
these examples seems to be an absence of an absence of
spirits, witches or other malevolent humans as the cause
of distress. Pollution is an impersonal condition that can
be righted by purification rituals or curative interven-
tions. In the course of years of applied ethnomedical
research in Africa, Edward Green came to believe that
purity and pollution concepts represent a traditional set
of natural contrasts that may have served in the past as a
foundation for ideas of health and disease prevention.
Finally, sixth, there are the related notions of
contagion and protection, or immunization. That
microorganisms can spread diseases is in fact a
relatively old idea that goes back well before the
theory of microbial vectors of disease. It is a widely
held notion in African thinking about health, although
that which is believed to spread and infect may include
ill will, poison, malefic medicines, and a variety of
forces which may cause harm. A well-known example
of this idea is the case of precolonial Kenya, where
smallpox-infected communities were quarantined as a
health measure and the healthy were immunized with a
bit of fluid from the pustule of an infected individual
(Dawson 1992: 96).
In most societies where this theory is found, the
agents of infection are described as worms or tiny
insects, e.g., kadoyo among the Bemba (Zambia),
iciwane among the Zulu (South Africa), liciwane
among the Swazi (Swaziland), atchi-koko among
the Macua (northern Mozambique), khoma among the
Shona (central Mozambique), and kokoro among
the Yoruba of Nigeria (Green 1999; Foster et al.
1996). Sexually transmitted diseases are often thought
to involve such infection agents.
Some scholars speak of African contagion as
mystical, comparing it to pollution (cf. Murdock
1980). Yet it is not so mystical when closely examined.
People become ill as a result of contact with, or
contamination by, a substance or essence considered
dangerous because it is unclean or impure. Africans
considered in an unclean or polluted state are often
kept apart from other people, since they are con-
sidered contagious until ritually purified. In central
Mozambique, people believe that several kinds of child
diarrhea and/or dehydration are caused by contact with
polluting essences (or by eating bad or spoiled food).
One source of pollution that may appear mystical is
unfaithful behavior on the part of a parent: if a mother
or father commits adultery, he or she acquires a
contaminating essence that makes the child sick. The
immediate cause is physical contact with the child, or
drinking “hot,” “spoiled” or “contaminated” breast
milk. This belief reinforces the importance of fidelity in
marriage (Green 1999: 13).
A third component of contagion theory, environ-
mental danger, is based on the belief that elements in
the physical environment can cause or spread illness.
One expression of this is the notion that contagious
illness can be carried in the air or wind. For example,
the Bemba of Zambia believe that tuberculosis is an
“illness in the air,” spread by inhalation of unclean dust
carried by the wind. The Bambara of Mali classify
smallpox, measles, and other contagious illness as “wind
illness,” because only wind has sufficiently widespread
contact with the body to cause outbreaks (Imperato 1974:
15). Tifo temoya (illness in the air) is a general Swazi

term denoting illnesses that are contracted through
inhalation. Colds, influenza, tuberculosis, severe head-
aches (probably malarial) and some types of contagious
child diarrhea are examples (Green 1999: 189–90).
Recognition of this sort of contagious disease, along
with sound preventive practices, can also be found in
indigenous African veterinary practices. McCorkle and
Mathias-Mundy (1992: 67) have noted:
African herding strategies often reflect a highly
sophisticated understanding of contagion and
immune responses. For example, Fulani may move
upwind of herds infected with hoof and mouth
disease in order to avoid contagion; or they may
move downwind so as to expose their animals to the
disease, knowing that a mild case confers immunity.
Health in the Social Fabric: Shrine Communities
and Cults of Affliction
The texture of society is extremely rich in sub-Saharan
Africa. Social codes and the power of words are
considered important to shaping health. A widespread
verbal concept whose root is reconstructed as *-gidu-
refers to the role of social prohibitions, taboos, and the
consequences of their violation. This is mentioned with
reference to the restriction on eating or killing one’s
clan or individual totems and familiars. Other observers
note that these prohibitions help individuals adhere to
social codes in general, including health promoting
restrictions on such things as overconsumption of
alcohol, overeating, or health destroying excesses of
any kind (Rwangabo 1993).
Another aspect of the social dimension of health is
bound up in the role of human agency in sickness or
misfortune, in the action of anger or ill will in a
relationship, and the action or gesture to harm the other,
be it an injurious word, a blow to the head, or a bit of poison
in the drink or food. The single root that most frequently
refers to this “human cause” of misfortune is *-dog- or
*-dok- (part of the Proto-Bantu lexica of at least 3,000
years ago), modern derivations of which are found from
Cameroon and the Kongo coast in the west (KiKongo:
kuloka), Central Africa (Kinyarwanda: kuroga); to the
Nguni-speakers in South Africa (Zulu: kuthaka).
In contemporary diagnoses of misfortune, victims
will often identify a string of misfortunes and try to
recall the exact words spoken by others prior to or in
association with the events, drawing the logical
inference that these utterances had caused, or could
have led to, the bad luck. Words of warning or injurious
words spoken in anger are especially suspect. There-
fore, in divination, these moments are recalled so that
the individuals or the relationships may be repaired.
Without treating the root cause, the surface signs and
symptoms cannot be permanently overcome.
Medicine in Africa 1503
There have been collective healing rites based on
common afflictions or groups of devotees identified
with gods or spirits considered to be the cause or
medium of these afflictions. Such communities or
orders have arisen and declined over time as particular
constellations of afflictions have occurred. Often they
have been a kind of barometer of the major dislocations
and diseases in a region.
In West Africa, shrine communities and cult
memberships were often associated with major shrines
and cults to the earth, to the water, to nature, and to the
sky, as well as to the rulers of local cities and states.
Some shrines were addressed to specific conditions,
such as twinship (as in the Ibeji of Yorubaland), or
particular diseases, such as the very widespread shrine
complex to the god of smallpox (variously Ipoona,
Shapanna, Shapata). On the Guinea coast forms of
gender-divided societies developed around the female
Sande association and the male Poro association. These
addressed many aspects of health and the public good
such as instruction of youth, midwifery, social control,
and hygiene. These shrine societies and cults of West
Africa may well have been part of very early agrarian
society, having become an integral feature of the cycles
of celebrations and sacrifices.
Across Equatorial Africa this type of therapeutic
ritual assembly often centers around particular issues as
well, such as fertility, twinship, women’s reproductive
issues, the health and well-being of infants and children
M
(Turner 1968, 1975; Devisch 1993; Spring 1978),
debilitating chronic conditions, fortune and misfortune
for men in hunting, mental illnesses, the survival of kin
groups (Janzen 1992; Nisula 1999), and a range of
social and environmental issues (Janzen 1992; Van
Dijk 2000). Membership was usually made up of the
afflicted and formerly afflicted, who underwent a
therapeutic initiation with stages from sufferer-novice
to healer-priest. These “drums of affliction,” as Turner
(1968) dubbed them, are often associated with the
voice of the ancestors and spirits which inhabit the
celebrants and are expressed in the song-dances at
the core of the ritual performances. Sometimes the
mark of growth or healing in the sufferer-novice is
the creation of a personal song based on the ordeal of
suffering, a dream/vision, or other moving experience.
Such a song constitutes a unique set of powerful words,
recalling the cognate dok, that offset and overcame the
destructive forces of disintegration, misfortune, sick-
ness and chaos of the previous period of the
individual’s life. Where such a “drum of affliction”
addresses community issues, the healing ritual may be
directed to the community, and society becomes the
body that is cured (Fig. 4).
These cults and shrines have related to Christianity
and Islam for centuries. Sometimes the African
institution has absorbed the outside idea or symbol,
1504 Medicine in Africa

in other cases Christian and Islamic institutions have dependence on expensive, imported drugs; (3) promoting
recreated the African forms and substance. Especially natural health care and reducing the iatrogenic effects
widespread in sub-Saharan Africa are the Independent of modern medicine; (4) finding out what traditional
African Churches, many of which encourage healing, healers are using and, if medicines are found to be
exorcisms, and various kinds of incorporating rites of dangerous and highly toxic, trying to persuade healers
purification, protection, and sanctification (Sundkler to substitute safer plants or at least reduce dosages; or
1976; Jonker 2000). Prophet-founders play the role of (5) finding an effective-seeming indigenous medicine
ancestor-mediators, while prominent or talented mem- for the symptoms of a high-priority illness such as child
bers assume the diagnostic role of diviners. diarrhea, then finding ways to promote more wide-
Although orthodox Muslims frown on blending spread use of the medicine (Green et al. 1994: 44).
Islam with African indigenous religion, the interpene-
tration of Islam and African ritual healing is extremely
common (among Hausas of Northern Nigeria, see
Abdullah 1992; Wall 1988). Jin and amasheitani spirits
widely cohabit the spirit worldviews of ngoma
associations in Eastern and Central Africa. Muslims
healers of the Swahili coast have long practiced ngoma
as part of their medicine kit, along with reading the
Koran; the purification symbolism of African healing
merges with that of the ritual ablutions of Islam in
connection with prayer. In northern Swahili towns such
as Lamu, early twentieth century ngoma Maulidi was
introduced for performance in the mosque; its songs
celebrated the prophet Mohammed, much to the
chagrin of fundamentalist Muslims.

New Health Crises and the Relegitimization of

African Medicine
The financial crises of African societies, and the search
for an infrastructure of health, have led planners to take
a second look at African institutions such as cults of
affliction and the education of healers. By 1998,
findings from a survey by the World Health Organiza-
tion’s Regional Office for Africa showed that a national
management or coordination body for traditional
medicine activities existed in 17 of 30 countries
surveyed. Twenty-two indicated that associations of
traditional healers had been established, and ten said
that a national directory existed. Four countries
reported that a training program for healers existed
(the actual number would surely be higher) and 17
countries had such programs for traditional birth
attendants. Twenty countries indicated that institutions
in their country were carrying out research related to
traditional medicine. Fifteen reported that there was
local production of indigenous medicines, and 17
countries reported having botanical gardens or arboreta
for cultivating medicinal plants (WHO 2000).
Research related to the medicinal value of plants in
the African materia medica is important for several
reasons related to public health (1) achieving commu-
nity or national self-reliance in health by promoting
locally available and already-accepted herbal medi-
cines; (2) developing an indigenous pharmacological
industry, based on local plants, that reduces national Medicine in Africa. Fig. 4 (Continued)
 Medicine in Africa 1505

Medicine in Africa. Fig. 4 “Doing ngoma” in Guguleto Township, Capetown, South Africa, 1982. This composite shows the
essential elements of a very widespread Central and Southern African therapeutic ritual. Lower left, two novices provide the
drum rhythm; upper left, other novices sing-dance and “confess their dreams” to novices and a few senior healers; right, a
trained graduate of ngoma leads this particular event with her bold sure step and her colorful clothing and beadwork, which
represents her well-developed sense of self in contrast to the novice-sufferers, who are entirely “white.” (Photo by Janzen.)

Preliminary pharmacological research is showing
that phytomedicines (medicines derived from plants)
used by African healers may indeed be effective for
diseases in three of the most severe current public
health crises: schistosomiasis and childhood diarrhea.
Ndamba et al. (1994) analyzed the most commonly
used plants used to treat schistosomiasis by 286
traditional healers in Zimbabwe, administering the
crude extracts orally to hamsters infected with
S. haematobium cercariae. It was found that plant
extracts from Abrus precatorius (Leguminosae), Pter-
ocarpus angolensis (Leguminosae) and Ozoroa
insignis (Anacardiaceae) were lethal to adult schisto-
somes. In a study of HIV-positive Ugandans with
Herpes zoster, herbal mixtures used by healers were
found to be at least as effective as biomedical
treatments, including the antiviral drug acyclovir, in
treating symptoms (Homsy et al. 1999).
Recent phytochemical research has shown that the
roots of Mirabilis jalapa, used in South Africa as a
purgative to treat some child diarrheas, in fact exhibit
antibacterial activity against an impressive range of
diarrhea-causing pathogens: Staphylococcus aureus,
Streptococcus pyogenes, Escherichia coli, Enterobacter
sp., Vibrio cholerae, Shigella flexneri and Salmonella
typhi (Chifundera et al. 1991).
At the World Health Organization Forum on
Traditional Medicine in Health Systems held in Harare
in 2000, the African Regional WHO office expressed
keen interest in the mass production of phytomedicines
for the treatment of malaria, AIDS, and other diseases
identified as priority diseases by member states. It is a
strategic objective of the WHO to develop a framework
for the integration of traditional medicine into national
health systems. The idea is to encourage local industry to
invest in the local production of indigenous medicines
and make them commercially viable. Governments
were urged to create policies related to conservation,
safety and toxicity, and regulation in order to assist a M
local production industry (Green 2000) (Fig. 5).
Mass production, promotion, and distribution of
African phytomedicines have begun. For example,
Nigeria has developed medicines for ulcers, anemia,
contraception, malaria and HIV, and it now holds patents
for some of these in several countries. In late 2000,
Nigeria became the first African nation to officially
promote a plant medicine for the treatment of
HIV/AIDS.
The ratio of traditional healers to the general
population of various African countries seems to be
in the range between 1:200 and 1:800, based on surveys
and censuses (cf. Green 1994: 19 for a review of
studies). In Mozambique, a doctor theoretically serves
about 10,000 people. In practice, coverage is even less.
Most doctors live in larger cities, while most rural
Africans are lucky if they live within 5–10 km of a
clinic staffed by a minimally trained nurse, where
medicines may or may not be available (Fig. 6).
It is widely accepted that at least 80% of Africans
rely on traditional healers for much or all of their health
care. This had led some that work in public health to
think that healers ought to play a role in curbing the
spread of infectious disease. From a public health
viewpoint, this would seem to make sense. Healers are
found everywhere; they are culturally acceptable; they
explain illness and misfortune in terms that are familiar.
1506 Medicine in Africa
Medicine in Africa. Fig. 5 An example of African medicine
given a modern scientific basis and commercialized. Dr.
Byamungu Lufungula, left, French trained pharmacist, stands
before instruments in his laboratory in Bukavu, Kivu, Eastern
Congo. In 1994 his enterprise, SODIPHAR, employed
25 workers. Pharmacies in Goma, Bukavu, and Uvira sold
about 20 products, all based on laboratory tested traditional
medicines obtained in collaboration with herbalist healers.
Byamungu is the author of Les Plantes Médicinales, Les Rites
Therapeutiques, et Autres Connaissances en Médicine des
Guérisseurs au Kivu, 1982.
In the 1970s there were several collaborative programs
involving traditional healers in areas such as child
diarrheal disease and family planning (e.g., Green
1987, 1996; Good 1987; Warren 1989) (Fig. 7).
With the explosion of HIV/AIDS in east and
southern Africa, an even greater number of collabora-
tive programs developed. In southern Africa, once they
had participated in workshops on AIDS and sexually
transmitted diseases (STDs), healers proved willing to
promote condoms and safe sex. Once it was accepted
that standard STDs facilitate the transmission of HIV, it
occurred to some that healers ought to be involved in
STD treatment programs – at least through referrals to
clinics – since patients with STDs so often consult
healers. Moreover, avoiding AIDS by sticking to
one partner usually made sense to healers because
they already interpret locally recognized sexually
transmitted illness as resulting (at one level at least)
from violations of the codes that govern proper sexual
behavior and exposure to essences believed to be
Medicine in Africa. Fig. 6 Indigenous South African
healers collaborating in public in AIDS prevention program,
1993. (Photo by Green.)
Medicine in Africa. Fig. 7 South African diviner-mediums
(traditional healers) teaching each other biomedical ideas
about HIV/AIDS, in a USAID-sponsored workshop in
Tsitsikama, South Africa, 1993. (Photo by Green.)
polluting (reproductive fluids, death). They feel
encouraged to learn that their own governments as
well as the international community also wish to warn
people against having sex with “just anyone,” with too
many people, with strangers, with prostitutes, or with
someone other than one’s wife or husband. Finally,
with drugs and hospitals in short supply, healers are
already caring for a large proportion of those already
infected with HIV. UNAIDS, the United Nations
agency for coordinating HIV/AIDS programs, recently
published an official “Best Practices” paper summariz-
ing the role of healers in HIV/AIDS prevention and
support programs, which concluded that they have
made a substantial contribution (King 2000), although
the situation regarding HIV in Africa remains grim.
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Medicine in Ancient Egypt
H EDVIG G YŐRY
In pharaonic time people saw their everyday life as a
mixture of rational facts and supernatural phenomena,
and the healing texts and the relating archaeological
artefacts reflect a similar double-sided medical attitude
as well. According to their beliefs, each illness had two
causes. One was of direct origin, caused by an invisible
pathogenic material personified, such as a disease-
demon, an evil spirit or an animal, or an object of
the material world. The other was of indirect origin,

caused by a god or goddess who was malevolent or
who punished the patient, or by a curse invoked by
individuals. This meant that the curing process had to
be directed both to the physical and the divine world.
One had to appease (sh.tp) the appropriate god or
exorcise the evil spirit or demon by religious or magical
means and to fight the physical symptoms by the
application of a remedy or physical treatment.
As the Egyptian themselves summarised, “Magic is
effective together with medicine. Medicine is effective
with magic” (Eb.2).
Sources
The study of ancient Egyptian medicine is based on
various sources. The most complex are the ancient
Egyptian texts from the pharaonic period, which
instruct us not only about the scientific knowledge of
the time but also about the way of thinking and the
results physicians expected of their intervention. The
medical anthropological study of human remains demon-
strates the level of efficacy of ancient medications
together with the general state of health of the population.
There is also a good deal of analysis of the chemical–
physical properties of pharmaceutical preparations that
were used or applied in given cures.
In addition, scholars are able to look at religious,
magical, historical, sepulchral, epistolary, and other
types of texts written either by Egyptian or foreign
people, archaeological and art historical finds or
buildings, and ( paleo)ethnographical parallels. All these
sources are, however, not enough to provide a detailed
medical overview of the complex of medicine in any
period of ancient Egyptian history. The best-known
period is the New Kingdom as most of the Egyptian
medical literature known today relates to it. By contrast,
the scientific analyses of the mummies are performed on
mostly Late Period or Graeco-Roman mummies.
Healing Papyri and Ostraca
The healing texts, known from papyri (see Note 1) and
ostraca (a potsherd used as a writing surface), can be
divided into medical and medicomagical (=iatromagical)
ones. Iatromagical spells are constructed the same way
and contain exactly the same expressions such as in any
other type of traditional magical spell, but the purpose
stressed is medical – the annihilation or elimination of a
disease-demon, the invisible enemy of the health of the
patient. There are also prayers to various deities. The term
medical papyri means those texts which deal with the
physical reality of a disease. The mixture of medical and
iatromagical texts is also common.
Medical spells can have several genres. Most of the
extant medical papyri consist of prescriptions ( phrt),
which just name the disease to be treated or say,
“another one”, followed by a list of materials and
Medicine in ancient Egypt 1509
key words for the preparation process. These were
sometimes finished by an evaluation such as “proved
a million times”. Texts relating to paediatrics and
obstetrics often contain prognoses. Surgical case
studies are documented in instruction form (sšow),
which contains both diagnosis and therapy, if needed.
The papyri are usually compilations of different
“books”, often comprising groups of prescriptions. The
original books seem to be arranged by the parts of the
body the therapy had to be directed to, but the extant
papyri often contain several books (or parts of them)
mixed in with each other. Thus they were copied from
various scrolls for practical guides to medication or for
teaching or reference purposes. Only a few might be a
copy of one original book, centred around one medical
topic, such as curing methods (trauma in the Smith
papyrus) or treatment of the same part of the body (such
as the Kahun papyrus).
Many tracts must have been destroyed down through
the centuries, but, according to ancient Egyptian tradi-
tions, the earliest medical book – an anatomy – already
existed during the reign of Djer or Dewen, kings of the
first Dynasty. If this is so, it must have been a list of
anatomical expressions. Recipes are also attributed to
Old Kingdom persons, such as the mother of Teti, sixth
Dynasty (Eb.468), and spells against snakebite are
listed among the Pyramid texts. In the tomb of Uash-
Ptah we can read on the wall that he collapsed in front
of Noferirkare, king of Upper and Lower Egypt. The
M
pharaoh then sent for a physician who returned with
a book to look up a possible way to save him,
unfortunately without success. The known medical
papyri originate beginning with the Middle Kingdom,
and the last we hear about are mentioned by Clement of
Alexandria (second half of the second century AD). He
knew about six Egyptian handbooks devoted to specific
aspects of medicine such as anatomy, illnesses, surgical
instruments, drugs, eye diseases and gynaecology.
Human Remains: Mummies and Skeletons
Paleopathology is a relatively new branch of science.
For a long time it relied entirely on bones. Thus, it
meant not examining the mummy, but during the
autopsy everything was taken from the bones:
wrapping, funeral goods, skin, soft tissues and muscles.
The pioneer of its systematic application was Sir Marc
Armand Ruffer, from the Cairo Medical School (1896–
1917), who also changed to a scientific means of
examination. He introduced regular X-ray examina-
tions, which were first made for an Egyptian excavation
in 1898, for Flinders Petrie. This is a non-invasive
method to learn about possible diseases or fractures of
the body, or to discover the cause of death. Even so, the
destruction to artefacts and skeletons did not stop.
Today’s methods are much more subtle and much less
harmful. This is especially the case with computer
1510 Medicine in ancient Egypt
tomography, which also helps in reconstructing a
“living picture” of the examined person. The aim is
now to get maximum data with no or minimum
destruction. With very few samples (taken for instance
by fibre-optic endoscopy) it is possible to determine
the blood group, the DNS/DNA or the antigens of
various infections. Scientific examinations resulted in
finding severe infections from worms such as taenia
(tapeworm), ascaris (roundworm), draconculiasis (guinea
worm), strongyloides, trichinella or schistosoma. Bac-
terial and viral infections, such as tuberculosis, variola
(smallpox) and mastoiditis (middle-ear inflammation)
are also attested.
The arteries reveal the existence of arteriosclero-
sis; mummified lung tissues reveal sand pneumo-
coniosis, pulmonary tuberculosis or (probably lobar)
pneumonia. The alterations and deformations of the
bones demonstrate arthritis, periostitis, ostitis, osteomy-
elitis, osteroporosis, osteochondrom, multiple basal-cell
naevus syndrome, pelvic contraction or vesico-vaginal
fistule, and several types of tumours. Growth distur-
bances (indicated by Harris lines) together with various
types of distortions of the backbones reveal spondylitis,
scoliosis or Pott disease. Different types of innate
distortions of the skull point to acrocephaly and
hydrocephaly; other bones indicate achondroplasy,
Klippel-Feil-Syndrom, talipes equinovarus or other
disorders. The teeth are usually worn out and abrased,
or else they have tartar or abscesses, if they are not
missing. Caries are present mostly from the Ptolemaic
period. By the mummification of the inner organs it is
also possible to examine the parts of the body, which
show signs of anthracosis, silicosis, pneumonia, lung-
emphysema; kidney hyperplasia, abscess, calculus,
bladder stones; gallstones, cholecyctitis; liver fibrosis;
megacolon, prolapsus recti and several other diseases.
To what extent did the ancient Egyptian prosthetic
medicine work for living persons? Some mummies are
outfitted with prosthetic devices. In cases of the nose or
stick legs, they were probably made for the afterlife, but
some others might have been used. This is the case with
a woman, probably in her 50s, in the Theban T95 tomb
from the twenty-first Dynasty, who had an artificial
wooden big toe.
Theoretical Background
Anatomy and Physiology
Ancient Egyptians had advanced anatomical and
physiological knowledge. It must have been due to
extended observation but also to the custom of
mummification. This was a completely different
science in the pharaonic period, and according to the
data known today, persons executing it were never
healers and had no connections to physicians. Charac-
teristic to Egyptian culture, both fields of science had
many specialised books, which were kept in libraries –
available for every professional, which might mean
a reciprocity of giving and receiving knowledge by
embalmers and healers. Another opportunity for
gaining similar experience might be from accidents or
battles. For instance, the process of emptying the skull
through the nostrils (a route applied often in modern
brain surgery) by means of a long hook attests to a good
knowledge of the anatomy of the head and brain. The
exact description of the latter is given very vividly in
the Smith papyrus (Sm.6). They obtained reliable
information about the meninges, the cerebrospinal
fluid, and twitches and pulsations, and they noticed a
connection between the state of the brain and body
control, although they did not develop it into a theory.
A similar feature can be observed at the spinal cord,
the dislocation of which was connected to paralysis
of the four limbs and incontinence (Sm.31), although
the nervous system is not mentioned.
Their main concern was directed to the heart. Its
position was described precisely, and some of its
disorders, such as missed beats, were discussed. It was
recognised as the centre of a circulatory system, where
the various mtw – “canal” systems – met. They seem to
have had two different schools for anatomical explana-
tions (Eb.854, 856, Brl.163) concerning the numbers
and roads of mtw. The mtw supplied the body with
every substance it needed. They thought the blood
vessels contained air in a healthy and blood in an ill
state. Their vessels were thought to be hollow and have
a mouth. The heart “spoke” through them, as they
determined the pulse, and told the physicians at any
part of the body about the general state of health of the
patient. By this they recognised the peripheral pulses,
but they were not aware of the circulatory system in a
modern sense. All the fluids in the body, including air
and blood, but also any type of body secretion,
excretion and discharge flowed in a series of these
interconnecting canals in the human body. The system
was described based on everyday life: fluids and
pathogens or even disease-demons were sailing there
like Egyptian people were said to sail on the water of
the Nile or its tributaries, with the Sun in the sky or on
the river of the Afterworld. Thus mtw meant any blood
vessel (veins and arteries), ducts or passages in the
body, but they were also used as the technical term for
muscles, tendons and nerves.
Ancient Egyptians sometimes used in the medical
literature different words for a part of the body than
were used in everyday life (for instance wfo for smo as
lung). For the names of body members see Fig. 1a–c.
The vocabulary was rich for external parts, but
relatively few names remained for the inner parts of
the body. For instance, the kidney is not mentioned at
all, though some hieroglyphs show such organs (lung
and heart as nfr, heart as ib, intestins as phr), but with
 Medicine in ancient Egypt 1511

Medicine in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 1 Body members with their ancient Egyptian names. Source: Nunn J.F., Ancient Egyptian
Medicine. British Museum, London, 1996, Figs. 3.3a,b and 3.4.
1512 Medicine in ancient Egypt
animal origins. They knew very little about their
function. Regarding the respiratory system, they knew
that the town˓nh (breath of life) entered through the
nose, and then ˘the heart and the lung gave it to the
entire body (Eb.855a). There was another type of
breath – the “breath of death” – which entered the body
through the left ear (Eb.854f ). The concept of the
digestive system was also simple; food and drink went
to the stomach, and part of it left through the anus.
The details are unmentioned and, based on the
treatments of the disturbances, they seem to not have
been understood at all.
Pathology
Physicians often treated internal cases, where they
could not see the alterations of the organs. They
developed their concepts based on symptoms given by
the patient and on exterior alterations of the body or of
the given organ, experienced by palpation. Patients
thought they had become ill because of an outside
disease matter; namely the name of diseases was
written in several cases by the figure of a god at the end.
Among these “disease demons”, as they are called today,
an enigmatic one is the whdw. The verb whw means “to
˘
suffer”. This pathogen afflicted ˘
many organs, causing
suffering for the patient, and is a designation for all sorts
of symptoms which changed their location. This meant
that the whdw was wandering in the body (Eb.856). All
˘ matters and demons entered the body from
the disease
the outside world by natural or occasional openings.
Thus, an important part of the cure and the prevention
of morbidity was the physical and magical protection of
the openings. A next step could be the cleaning of the
mtw, the route of travelling of these elements. This
theory is also the explanation of the frequent use of
enema in treatments.
As the same treatment in a seemingly same case could
end, however, with different results, they thought to seek
for help in the divine world. This was important at each
step of the treatment: from choosing the materia medica
and the devices, preparing and administering the drug or
performing the operation. This way they aided recovery
not only by their medical knowledge but also by
favouring the patients with psychological conditioning.
Medical Practice
Egypt was famous in the ancient word for its hygiene.
Egyptians often cleaned themselves and their belong-
ings. For this they used natron, ashes, or soda which are
all good detergents and dissolve fatty matter. Probably
it was also an important factor in the care of the sick.
Another aspect is drug administration which was often
carried out at home, without professional help. This is
what Homeros hints at, saying that everybody living in
Egypt is a physician, for the whole population there
originates from Paieon (Odysseia IV, 231–232).
Medical practice included the use of herbal remedies,
but also surgery, various types of physical treatments,
religious invocations and as an essential part, magical
incantations. For the cure, healers had to handle
problems concerning medical history, examination,
diagnosis, prognosis, and various means of treatment if
they were general practitioners or specialised in various
fields of medicine.
Way of Examination
Medical practice was performed in a systematic way.
According to the available clinical descriptions, before
any treatment could be administered, a detailed history
taking and questionnaire took place. The first course of
action for the physician was to make a diagnosis,
employing his powers of observation and experience to
detect as many symptoms and to elicit as many signs as
he could for determining the nature of the disease. He
referred then to the medical papyri to determine the
most appropriate course of treatment. Normally, this
would take the form of a potion, unguent, ointment,
balm, pill, poultice, enema, suppository or an eye lotion
comprised from a concoction of natural ingredients.
The case study comprised several steps:
1. Interrogation of the patient
2. Detailed inspection of the face and skin, smell of the
body, urine and faecal matter, palpation
3. Percussion of the body and diseased organs,
functional testing
4. Diagnosis and verdict (“An ailment which I will
treat”, “An ailment which I contend” or “An ailment
not to be treated”)
5. Treatment
Treatment
Contrary to the statement of Herodotos (II.77),
physicians seem not to have been concerned so much
with prevention of an illness, but rather with treatment
of an ailment, using all the means at their disposal. And
they had many. Unfortunately, we do not know details
of them, as the texts are very limited. It is, however
clear, that the physician gave patients medicaments, or
he prescribed rest if needed (Kah 10). The duration of
the treatment is often omitted, but it is sometimes
specified by exact days (most frequently 4), or
paraphrased (typical in the Smith papyrus: “until he
recovers”, “until the period of his injury passes by” or
“until you know that he has reached the decisive
point”).
If medicine was prepared and administered accord-
ing to the physician’s teachings, he was exempt from
all blame if the treatment did not work. However, if he
deviated from the traditional remedies and tried to

increase his knowledge through experimentation, he
risked losing his life if it failed (Diodoros I.82). These
principles may have hindered changes in the medicine
of Ancient Egypt.
Drug Therapy
Drug administration was the most popular method;
drugs were either prepared by the physician himself or
followed according to his instruction by an apprentice.
Most of the medical texts describe a sole treatment.
Medicaments contained a multiplicity of drugs simul-
taneously. The choice of selection seems to have been
influenced by magical considerations. As a vehicle they
usually used wine, beer, mothers’ milk, oil or grease
(mrh.t) or honey; they used also active drugs in their
own right; in addition to the most common, water. mrh.t
came in many many varieties, according to the plant or
animal it was extracted from or made of. The measures
were usually given in units or fractions expressed by
the drawing of the components of the wedjat eye. The
means of their utilisation is usually very short. It was a
secret science. The chemical knowledge of the Egyptian
physicians was so vast that some would attribute the
origin of the word “chemistry” to “Kemet”, the ancient
name of Egypt.
The preparation process not only had its own
rules, but also the administration – method, timing or
dosage – was sometimes also specified. Some of these
were very complicated. Regulations adhered to the
same guidelines physicians apply today. In some
prescriptions even the dosage of the different drugs
was adjusted to the patient’s age: “If it is a big child,
he should swallow it like a draught, if he is still in
swaddles, it should be rubbed by his nurse in milk and
thereafter sucked on 4 days” (Eb.273).
Surgery
Surgery was considered in trauma and in a few cases
of tumour and swelling. Based mostly on the Smith
Papyrus, the simplest repertoire of surgical procedure is
known, but these reveal a remarkably scientific manner
and clean environment. There is, however, no mention
of any sort of anaesthesia. Bandaging, stitching, bound-
ing with oil and honey belonged to the usual wound
managing. Infection of the wound was regarded to be a
normal step of recovery. Evidence of operation is very
sporadically attested on mummies. Fracture reduction
was found a bit more frequently, and it was often
successful, as were dislocations – also healed accord-
ing to Kocher’s method.
Complementary Therapies
The ancient Egyptians practiced several other thera-
pies. In the tomb of Anh-mahor (sixth Dynasty, Saqara)
a sort of physiotherapy or reflexology might be
inferred: the manipulating of fingers and toes were
Medicine in ancient Egypt 1513
depicted. Chambers equipped with basins were found
near Dendera temple, suggesting hydrotherapy in the
sanatorium by the use of healing statues. Again they
used the ultraviolet of the sunrays (heliotherapy) by
exposing an anointed ill body in the sunshine. The
treatment by mud and clay was also known (Eb.482).
Magical practices
One of the most powerful tools in the healer’s armoury
was magic. It was regularly used in conjunction with
rational medical practices. Some materia medica seem
to be chosen mainly on the magical character assigned
to them, such as virgin’s urine, crocodile excrement,
black pieces of bull hair, or tortoise bile. The admin-
istration of the medicament, as with surgical interven-
tion, was also accompanied by prayers and offerings or
magical spells addressed to malign or angry deities. In
addition, some objects sacred to certain gods or provided
with supernatural properties or deemed as a reminder of a
myth might give additional help in various other forms.
They might be amulets, drawings, statuettes or tiny steles,
or using an object as a model (e.g. crocodile statuette in
Chester Beatty V. 4, 5–9) (Fig. 2).
If the medical treatments were deemed not to be
working, the healer could call solely upon the divine
world for destroying “the enemy”. Predominantly
benign deities, in particular Isis, Horus and Ra, were
usually invoked. As expectations and environmental
M
effects have measurable curative value, this was widely
employed by ancient healers. Their emphasis on magic
was an even more powerful psychological opportu-
nity, the application of which improved therapeutic
efficiency. In many cases, especially after attacks of
animals such as snakes or scorpions, the spell casting
activity of the healer–priest seemed to be decisive. It
was thought to be the only treatment for a long while.
After the publication of the Brooklyn Herpetological
Papyrus, however, prescriptions became known which
provided a very deep knowledge of snakes and the
effects of their poisons.
Materia Medica
Pharmacology was a secret part of the physicians’
studies and knowledge. There are a great variety of
materials which cannot be identified, regarding the
amount and quantity of usage, or time and way of
gathering the raw material; these were guided by
experience and theological concept. Physicians prepared
the remedies themselves. They were made from natural
ingredients, in raw or prefabricated conditions, such as:
. Small amounts of (toxic) minerals, like copper
oxide, sulphate, antimony, zinc, lead, arsenic, mala-
chite, natron, common salt, haematite, chalcedony
. Various parts of more than 200 plants, with about
only a fifth identifiable with certainty. Among the
1514 Medicine in ancient Egypt
Medicine in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 2 Small Horus stele
amulet in the Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest.
common plants were fenugreek, sycamore, castor
oil, acacia gum, carob, wormwood, juniper, Cyprus
grass, cinnamon, date, lotus or sycamore fig. Vegetal
components were collected not only in Egypt itself,
but were also imported (such as the mineral lapis
lazuli)
. Animal parts (meat, milk, fat, blood, skin, hair, bile,
liver, brain matter, urine, or excrement)
. Human body products, such as milk, sweat or blood
Ancient Egyptian prescriptions do not say which
elements were expected to exert pharmacological effect
and which were used as a vehicle, or added for taste
or general conditioning capability. Some constituents
were used very extensively in most cases, but the texts
often do not give the reasoning. The choice of the
material changed during the history of ancient Egypt,
which is well reflected by a comparison between New
Kingdom and Roman time medical papyri, but it is
impossible to follow the process because of our lack in
knowledge of the time in between.
Instruments
As medical treatments consisted of rational and magical
components, they required both medical devices and
magical instruments.
Medical Devices
Healers required some objects for storing substances
(such as special milk jugs, kohl pots, jars) or for
preparing drugs, such as perforated plates for straining
(˓th), bowls for getting a homogenous mixture (m h.t
w˓˘t), pots for grinding (nd) and cooking ( ps), small
measures for volumes (the most convenient are hnw,
approximately 450 ml and ro, approximately 14 ml) or
sticks and spoons for the mixing procedures. For enema
there were some sort of clysters; for fumigation there
were burners. All the devices needed had to be packed
in the house or sometimes in a bag to take to patients.
For the treatment of injuries we find “fire drill”
which consisted of a stick and board used for starting
fires by friction, as a cauterising tool, and various types
of bandages. From the New Kingdom onwards, they
used small metal knives as well as tools such as hooks,
forceps, “disposable” lancets and blades fashioned
from reed stems, spatulas and spoons.
In Kom Ombo, the Antonine (Roman) period inner
decoration of the surrounding wall of the Sobek and
Haroeris temple bears a table of surgical instruments,
divided into four horizontal rows. The relief shows
knife blades, a saw, spoons, spatulas, forceps, pincers,
small bags, a small scale, specula and wedjat eye
amulets. In the bottom register there are two round
forms (possibly vases), a papyrus scroll, two packages
for needles or small instruments, an oval object,
needles and cleaning tools.
Magical Instruments
As magic and religion played a major role in treatment,
magical instruments were also important. Amulets,
models and other magical objects such as knots, magic
wands, statuettes of gods and “concubine statuettes”,
bowls, representations of symbols and scenes or

various inscriptions were generally used. Some of them
had a specific aim; others had a wider range of
applicability. As these practices changed continually,
we can specify the time of their use. For instance magic
wands was used almost exclusively during the 12–13th
Dynasties while the Horus-cippi, which repelled
reptiles and cured people who had been bitten, started
to appear during the eighteenth Dynasty and stopped
after the end of the Ptolemaic era.
Diseases
Degenerative diseases tend to afflict people the same
way; other diseases are dependent on environmental
factors. These were different in antiquity not only
because of the thousands of years during which the
virulence and geographical boundaries of many patho-
gens (and hosts) could have changed significantly but
also because of alternating ethnical mixtures of people
and changes of life patterns such as diet, way of life,
quality of air or geographical factors. There are some
which are already extinct. Thus the pathogens were less
or more different, and they could cause slightly
different symptoms. Examinations of the human
remains reveal, however, that diseases usually resulted
in the same conditions as they do today.
About 300 diseases are mentioned in ancient
Egyptian texts. They are very hard to identify, because
the prescriptions usually do not give any or enough
description. Moreover, several diseases mentioned are
only signs or symptoms (heat, cough, vomiting,
obstruction, voiding of blood), which can occur in
many diseases. Disease descriptions are also inaccurate
for today’s diagnoses. For instance the so-called “Asian
disease”, described very vividly in H.170, has been
interpreted differently: bubonic plague (Goedicke),
leprosy (Bardinet) or smallpox (Győry). Ancient
Egyptian medicine paid detailed attention to the anus.
Nevertheless, it is difficult to find a technical term for
constipation or diarrhoea, though many remedies
cleared the bowels and stopped evacuation (wsš).
There is no doubt in the meaning of gs-tp – “half head”,
modern migraine (Eb.250, ChB V.4), and the probabil-
ity is high in the identification of the passage Brl.67
as facial nerve paralysis (Bell’s palsy). Due to the
widespread nature of dental disease, halitosis (bad breath)
must have been a common complaint. A prescription has
been discovered to combat this condition.
Another difficulty in understanding ancient Egyptian
medical texts is that a lot of words have specific
medical meanings, which are only rarely explained in a
gloss. Some of them were not well understood even
during pharaonic times. That is the reason we have
glosses in the Ebers and Smith papyri. Thanks to them,
we know much more about surgery and healing
wounds than about any other medical cases. In the
Medicine in ancient Egypt 1515
Smith papyrus, case 7 gives for instance a very
plausible description of tetanus.
Prescriptions often speak about worms, as several
disease terms are determined with the sign of a snake,
the hieroglyphic sign also for worms. There seem to be
only two, h.fot and pnd, with a sense of a specific worm.
And there is no clue for the identification of these two.
Several types of vermifuges were used against them,
such as pomegranate or wormwood in medical texts or
garlic, radish and onion in everyday life, but they are not
specific. We have a nice description for the treatment of
dracunculiasis (Eb.875), but the worm taken out over a
painstaking month is not given a specific name. There is
a possibility that the snakes for the emblem of Greco-
Roman and modern medicine (caduceus) may be related
to this procedure.
Ancient Egyptian representations could be a big
help, because they were often accompanied by
explications. The medical papyri are, however, not
illustrated, and the reliefs on tombs give ambiguous
information for medical interpretation. Servants are
often represented as humpbacked. We do not know
whether this represents poor posture or the result of a
disease, such as Pott’s disease, ankylosing spondylitis,
porter’s hump or a sort of fracture. The representations
with gynaecomastia or elephantiasis are no better; they
can be caused by several diseases, most often by
schistosomiasis or filariasis. Similarly, the picture of
the equine deformity of the foot of Rama can be the
M
representation of either poliomyelitis contracted in
childhood or a variety of clubfoot. The dilemma is the
same with the mummy of pharaoh Siptah. The stela of
Bak shows him with a high probability of having
Simmer’s fibrosis caused by schistosomiasis. The case
of Seneb, who is sitting beside his wife on a statue from
his tomb in Gisa, is a classic example for achondro-
plasiac dwarfism. But dwarfism was not considered a
disease.
The Healers
Health was very important for ancient Egyptians. For
many maladies, however, they needed special health
care performed by specialised physicians who were
remunerated for their services in barter and money-
barter by the state or with gifts by private persons. They
worked usually on their own, as pharmacists, nurses or
midwives.
Herodotus (II, 84) attests in the fifth century BC that
The practice of medicine is so divided amongst
them that each physician treats one disease and no
more. There are plenty of physicians everywhere.
Some are eye doctors, some deal with the head,
others with the teeth or the belly, and some with
hidden maladies…
1516 Medicine in ancient Egypt
A similar picture is reflected by the medical titles of the
Old Kingdom and Late Period among the swnw, the
ancient word for physician (from the root word “swn”
meaning “to suffer pain”.) The hieroglyph contained
the sign of an arrow, which might lead to a possible
origin of the occupation such as removing arrows from
the injured, or it might allude to Thoth, who not only
gave written instructions but also cared for the
wounded in battle.
Another type of physician were the priests of
Sekhmet, the lion-headed goddess who dispensed
disease especially at the end of the year, or cured it.
They were called “the wab-priests of Sekhmet, who can
dispel evil spirits”. They are thought to have been
surgeons and might also be veterinarians. A third type
of healer was the magician, called sow (the protector).
These three main categories of healers might function
simultaneously for a given patient. All of them could
perform the classical medical examination, including
palpation. The main difference among them was their
way of approaching the disease and consequently the
treatment. All three functions could be united in one
person as is the case with Hery-shef-nakht (Hatnub,
twelfth Dynasty).
The magician healer used mostly magic, which did
not exclude operations or medicaments prepared
according to the medical prescriptions. His fields were
probably centred around fertility and severe illnesses
hardly or not curable by physical treatments. They
might also be specialised in some diseases; for instance,
some healers of the first decades of twentieth century’s
Egypt (AD) only took out maggots from the eye. Very
specialised, the hrp Srk.t (a sort of priest to the scorpion
goddess Selket)˘ dealt only with scorpion stings and
snakebites by the recitation of spells and incantations.
Surgeons used a “knife-treatment” operation for a wide
range of cases, although the act was preceded and
followed by religious acts such as offerings, prayers or
incantations. The swnw were concerned with pragmatic
medicine, but again with some divine help.
They adopted a rather elaborate hierarchy system for
the health service, with titles such as:
. swnw – physician
. h.ry-swnw – one with authority over physicians
. imy-r-swnw – overseer of physicians
. wr-swnw – chief physician (possibly smsw-swnw –
eldest physician in some cases)
. sh.d-swnw – inspector of physicians
During the Old Kingdom and Late Period there were
many specialists in the different fields of medicine,
such as the swnw jrtj (ophthalmologist), swnw ht
(physician of the abdomen; i.e. gastroenterologist), nrw
ph.wy (shepherd of the anus; i.e. proctologist), who
probably administered enemas; or jryw-jbw (dentist)
and jr-jryw-jbw (great of those who are concerned with
teeth), first given to Hesy-Re in the royal palace of the
third Dynasty. Besides the palace, the army also had its
own physicians, as well as some social groups such as
the royal tomb builders, or miners. Some physicians
held several specialised titles, such as Ir-en-akhty (First
Intermediate Period), who was both court physician
and their inspector, as well as proctologist, ophthal-
mologist, gastroenterologist and o˓˓ mw m-hnw ntntt
(interpreter of the liquids in the intestines(?)).
The ancient Egyptian physician was generally
educated and trained by his father and relatives or
within the temple schools and libraries, the so-called
pr-˓nh (house of life). The most famous New Kingdom
˘ institutions were in the temples of Heliopolis
medical
and Sais. Pupils underwent a formal apprenticeship
under an acknowledged master. Training was so
successful that Egyptian physicians became renowned
throughout the ancient world for their skill. For
instance, at the request of Hattushili, Ramses II
despatched a physician to the Hettite court and later,
at the request of Cyrus Amasis II, sent an Egyptian
ophthalmologist to the Persian court. Many Greek
people wandered to Egypt to learn from the Egyptians.
Even Hippocrates highly esteemed their knowledge; he
used the same method of reaching a diagnosis and
deciding on a plan of action.
The title of swnw was held in high esteem in Egypt
itself. More than 150 names of swnw have survived.
Being an overseer of these was an important rank:
Mereruka (son-in-law of pharaoh Teti, sixth Dynasty)
was proud of being jmy-r gswy dpt swnw pr ˓o (overseer
of the two sides of the boat of the physicians of the
pharaoh). There is one story of a female physician: the
mother of Akhet-hotep (fifth/sixth Dynasty) was their
overseer – jmj-r swnwt. Moreover, two persons without
known contemporary evidence of bearing this title –
Imhotep, the royal chamberlain to Djoser (third
Dynasty) and Amenhotep-son-of-Hapu, the royal scribe
to Amenhotep III (eighteenth Dynasty) – were deified
from the Late Period, the former one also identified with
Asclepius by the Greeks (Fig. 3).
If one had to be ill in antiquity, ancient Egypt would
be the preferred place. Although the basis of their
medication was mainly empirical and aimed at the
relief of symptoms, they thought to eliminate the cause
of the disease by winning the gods’ benevolence. The
medical knowledge of their physicians was without
equal at that time; their formal, structured and logical
approach to the patient is unchanged in modern
medicine; and their techniques and treatments are often
comparable to today’s medical profession.
Extra 1: The Most Important Medical Papyri
The earliest texts originate from the Middle Kingdom (Amenemhat
III). The Kahun papyrus was found in the town of Illahun by Flinders
Petrie in 1889, and is badly damaged (Griffith 1898; Stevens 1975).

Medicine in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 3 Bronze statuette of
Imhotep. Dyn. 26. Source: 1. Nagay, Guide to the Egyptian
Collection. Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest, 1999. p. 67.
All the paragraphs are gynecological, but the first half is written in
instruction form, while the second 17 paragraphs are prescriptions or
pregnancy prognoses. The 17 Ramesseum papyri were found in a
magician-healer’s tomb in the great temple of the Ramesseum,
Thebes. They are also fragmentary and originate presumably from
the 13th Dynasty. Numbers 3 and 4 contain several prescriptions and
also magical spells treating various parts of the body, though many
deal with birth and babies or the eye. Scroll number 5 is in the best
state of preservation among them, and the writing suggests it to be the
earliest copy. It collects cases concerning the mtw – that is the
“canals” of the body – in this case usually muscles and tendons. The
other Ramesseum scrolls are mostly magical.
The 4.5 m long Edwin Smith papyrus was purchased in Thebes in
1862 by its eponym, and published in 1932 by James Henry Breasted
in two superb volumes. The recto gives an excellent insight into the
surgical practice of ancient Egypt with the 48 trauma cases in
instruction form. There are several corrections written in the
paragraphs and explanations (glosses) appended behind them, which
indicate that the original text was not understandable any more. Its
language suggests a Middle Kingdom origin. It outlines procedures
and techniques that are considered antecedents of modern surgical
practice. The 48th case ended abruptly in the middle of a sentence.
The verso was finished by another hand and consists of various
medical paragraphs together with iatromagical incantations. The style
of the writing dates the scroll approximately to 1550 BCE.
The longest medical papyrus is the Ebers papyrus, which was also
bought by Edwin Smith in 1862. It was said to be taken from between
the legs of a mummy in Assasif, Thebes. It measures some 20.23 m in
length and 30 cm in height. A passage on the verso dates it to the
ninth year of Amenhotep I. Georg Moritz Ebers published it in 1873.
The recto contains 877 medical paragraphs of various topics arranged
unsystematically in many books with some loose prescriptions and
randomly placed glosses. The pages were numbered by the ancient
compiler, who collected material from the ancient Egyptian medical
literature – ophthalmology, obstetrics, contraception, dentistry,
urinary and digestive system, psychiatry, etc. The “book of the
stomach” (188–207) and the injury section (857–875) are in instruction
Medicine in ancient Egypt 1517
form. It also contains two anatomical treatises (854–56) and a detail
of a herbarium (251).
In 1901, a scroll of papyrus was presented at the Californian
Phoebe Hearst expedition in Deir el-Ballas. The scroll, later named
Hearst Papyrus, was written during the reign of Tuthmosis III and is
a less systematically written compilation of several topics, probably a
practicing physician’s formulary. It is concerned with diseases of the
urinary system, blood, hair, bites, etc. More than a quarter of the
paragraphs are similar or very close parallels to the Ebers papyrus.
The recto of Chester Beatty VI of the nineteenth Dynasty from Deir
el-Medina consists of prescriptions for rectal ailments. The Berlin
Papyrus, acquired by Giuseppe Passalacqua in Saqqara and sold to
Friedrich Wilhelm IVof Prussia in 1827 for the Berlin Museum, bears
a great similarity to the Ebers papyrus, and also contains an
anatomical treatise (163). Beside the prescriptions for various
illnesses there are also some birth prognoses. The paleography
indicates that it is of the nineteenth Dynasty. Unknown is the origin of
the badly damaged Carlsberg Papyrus VIII written by two different
hands and dated to the nineteenth/twentieth Dynasties. Its language
suggests a Middle Kingdom origin. The recto gives prescriptions for
eye diseases and the verso prognoses for pregnancy.
The Brooklyn Herpatological Papyrus concentrates exclusively
on snakebites and dates to the thirtieth Dynasty or Early Ptolemaic
Period. It starts with a systematic description of the properties of 38
snakes and their bites (the first 13 were on the missing part of the
papyrus), while the second section describes prescriptions to “drive
out the poison” of snakes, scorpions and tarantulas and to “seal their
mouths”. The Fayum Medical Papyrus, originating from the library
of the Sobek temple of Crocodilopolis in the second half of the
second century AD, is a compilation of prescriptions for various
diseases. Although it is written in demotic and the structure is
traditional, it is completely imbued with the Mediterranean medical
praxis and drugs.
M
Extra 2: The Most Important Mixed and Pure
Iatromagical Texts
The provenance of the London Medical Papyrus is unknown. It was
given to the British Museum by the Royal Institute of London in
1860. It is a palimpsest in very poor condition dealing with various
topics such as gynaecology, ophthalmology or proctology. The
earlier work dates to the reign of Tutankhamun. Of its 61 paragraphs,
25 are prescriptions; the others are magical spells. Among the 19
Chester Beatty Papyri given by Sir Alfred Chester Beatty to the
British Museum, spells are often cast for unidentifiable diseases (VI
verso, VIII, XV ). Then again there are some systematic books –
incantations against headache (V.) and scorpion stings (VII recto).
The collection was found in a tomb at Deir el-Medina in 1928 and
belonged to the archive of the family of the scribe Qen-her-khepeshef
for over a century during the nineteenth Dynasty. The Mother and
Son Papyrus in the Berlin Museum was auctioned from
the Athanasi collection in 1843 as burial good from Memphis or
Thebes. Written in two hands at the beginning of the eighteenth
Dynasty, the papyrus contains three prescriptions for the newborn and
18 magical spells against children’s illnesses or for delivery, mother’s
milk and the general safety of the child.
The London-Leiden magical Papyrus, which consists of a few
prescriptions and many incantations for various ailments, was written
in the third century AD. The two halves, sold first by Anastasi, the
Swedish consul of Alexandria and aquired much later by the British
Museum and the Dutch government, were discovered by the first
publishers, Francis Ll. Griffith and Herbert Thompson. Although it is
basically demotic, it also contains many Greek glosses, some coptic
words and a few hieratic signs.
Typical pure magical texts were written against snakebites, and
not only on papyri or ostraca but also carved on stone from the New
Kingdom – mainly on Horus-cippi. Probably the most complete
1518 Medicine in ancient Mesopotamia
collections are the Metternich stela and the inscription of the healing
statue of Hor-udja. These incantations often quote mythical events in
connection with the child-god Horus or the goddess Isis. Other types
of spells were cast over pain and aches in different parts of the body.
The Turin magical papyri contains a large collection of these and
snakebite spells.
See ▶Maps and Mapmaking in Egypt: Turin Map.
See also: ▶Mummies
References
Bardinet, Th. Les papyrus médicaux de l’Égypte pharaonique.
Paris: Fayard, 1995.
Cockburn, A. and E. Cockburn eds. Mummies, Disease, and
Ancient Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1980.
Davies, W. V. and R. Walter eds. Biological Anthropology
and the Study of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum
Press, 1993.
Ebeid, N. I. Egyptian Medicine in the Days of the Pharaohs.
Cairo: General Egyptian Book Organization, 1999.
Estes, J. W. The Medical Skills of Ancient Egypt, Canton,
Massachusetts: Science History Publications, Revised
Edition. 1993.
Germer, R. Die Heilpflanzen der alten Ägypter. Düsseldorf:
Artemis & Winkler, 2002.
Grapow, H., W. Westendorf, and G. Von Deines. Grundriβ
der Medizin der Alten Ägypter, I-IX. Berlin: Akademie-
Verlag, 1954–1973.
Ghalioungui, Paul. The Physicians of Pharaonic Egypt.
Cairo: Al-Ahram Center for Scientific Translations, 1983.
Griffith, F. Ll. and H. Thompson. The Demotic Magical
Papyrus of London and Leiden. Vol. 1–3. London:
H. Grevel & Co. 1904–1909.
Győry, H. On a Topos in Egyptian Medical History. A Delta-
man in Yebu. Ed. A. K. Eyma and C. J. Bennett. Boca
Raton, Florida: Universal Publishers, 2003. 215–24.
---. Egészség és életmód az ókori Egyiptomban. Kolozsvár:
Kriterion, 2003.
Jonckheere, F. Les Médecins de l’Egypte pharaonique, Essai
de prosographie, in La Médecine égyptienne no 3.
Bruxelles: Fondation égyptologique reine Elisabeth, 1958.
Leca, A. P. La Médecine égyptienne au temps des pharaons.
Paris: Dacosta, 1983.
Lefebvre, G. Essai sur la Médecine égyptienne de l’époque
pharaonique. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1956.
Leitz, C. Magical and Medical Papyri of the New Kingdom,
Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum VIII. London:
British Museum Press, 1999.
Majno, G. The Healing Hand: Man and Wounds in the Ancient
World. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975.
Nunn, J. F. Ancient Egyptian Medicine. London: British
Museum, 1996.
Reeves, C. Egyptian Medicine. Princes Risborough, Buck-
inghamshire,: Shire Publications, 1992.
Sandison, A. T. and D. Brothwell eds. Diseases in Antiquity:
A Survey of Disease, Injuries, and Surgery in Early
Populations. Springfield, Illinois: C.C. Thomas, 1967.
Stephan, J. Ordnungssysteme in der altägyptischen Medizin
und ihre Überlieferung in den Europäischen Kulturkreis.
Hamburg: n.p., 2001.
Walker, J. H. Studies in Ancient Egyptian Anatomical
Terminology. The Australian Centre for Egyptology.
Warminster: Aris and Phillips, Studies 4, 1996.
Westendorf, W. Handbuch der altägyptischen Medizin.
Vol. 1–2. Leiden: Brill, 1999.
Medicine in Ancient Mesopotamia
S EMAÀN I. S ALEM
The art of medicine is as old as humanity itself.
Diseases must have existed as soon as life was formed
and early human beings tried to rid themselves of the
pain and discomfort they caused. This art is not
restricted to human beings alone; many animals even
some plants have ways to combat sickness.
Early people probably practiced two completely
different methods of medication: a practical method
originating from the obvious, and another resulting
from combating the unknown and the mysterious.
When a thorn or a similar object penetrates the flesh,
removing it relieves some pain and discomfort and is
therefore a cure. Pressing one’s finger or hand on a wound
stops the bleeding and thus is a form of medication. On
the other hand a cure for a mysterious or a supernatural
illness, such as a high fever or epilepsy, is not as obvious
and therefore requires a supernatural treatment. Not
knowing the nature of such mysterious illnesses or how
they entered the body of their victims, early humans
accused demons and evil spirits, and called on magicians
and exorcists to chase away the offending demons. Thus
to combat diseases, the help of a benevolent god was
invoked either directly by prayers and sacrifices, or
through a medium, an expert in communicating with such
a super power. This type of treatment survives today,
practically unchanged into the twenty-first century, in
many places.
Most of the almost one thousand medical tablets
uncovered in Mesopotamia treat most diseases in
this fashion: a disease is the invasion of the body
by an evil spirit or a harmful demon, and the cure is
always described as a method to force the demon to
leave the patient. This is accomplished either by a
healing god, or by scaring, or disgusting the intruding
demon. The evil spirit may become disgusted and
forced to leave by feeding the patient repulsive
materials, such as dirt or excrement. In Mesopotamia,
the healing god was usually associated with a snake,
the symbol of healing.
On one of the oldest Mesopotamian medical tablets,
the Sumerians attribute numerous diseases to harmful
demons and evil spirits and call upon their goddess for
medical help. In their incantations, she is addressed by

various names, such as Bau, Ninisinna, and Gula. An
example of this kind of treatment is found on several
tablets describing the disease that overwhelmed Tabi-
utul-Enlil, the ruler of Nippur. He calls on various gods
and goddesses, begging them to rid him of the evil
demons that entered his body. There was no other cure
mentioned.
An evil demon has come out of its (lair);
It struck my neck and crushed my back,
It bent my high stature like a poplar;
Food became bitter and putrid,
The malady dragged its course.
My flesh was wasted, my hands were wan.
All day the pursuer pursued me;
At night he granted me no respite whatever.
Then Tabi-utul-Enlil mentions how the diviner failed
him and his gods deserted him.
The disease of my joints baffled the exorcist,
And my omens were obscure to the diviner,
The exorcists could not interpret the character of
my disease,
And the limit of my malady, the diviner could not fix.
He was baffled by his punishment, as he was a pious
ruler, who performed his duties to gods and men.
As though I had not set aside the portion for the
god,
And had not invoked the goddess on the meal,
Had not bowed my face and bought my tribute;
And had not taught my people fear and reverence.
I thought that such things were pleasing to the gods.
Here, Tabi-utul-Enlil states that since he is such a
pious man, he should not have gone through so much
suffering. The good god should have prevented the evil
spirits from entering his body. But he never lost faith in
his benevolent god. Finally, the good spirit appears, and
cures all his ailments; a mighty storm drives all the
demons out of his body.
He sent a mighty storm to the foundation of
heaven,
To the depth of the Earth he drove it.
He drove the evil demon into the abyss.
He tore out the root of my disease like a plant.
Cured, Tabi-utul-Enlil praises his god, offers sacrifices,
and calls upon his subjects to have faith, and never to
despair.
This piece of Mesopotamian literature provides a clear
insight into Mesopotamian view of diseases and cures.
There is no difference between demon and disease; the
two words were synonyms. And so were the words god
and cure. Many historians see similarities between Tabip-
utul-Enlil’s story and that of the biblical Job.
Medicine in ancient Mesopotamia 1519
Although magical cures were prevalent in ancient
Mesopotamian society, there are indications that even
in the early stages of Mesopotamian development,
plants, and other substances were consumed for medical
purposes and some specialized medicine existed. A clay
tablet, written toward the end of the third millennium
BCE was uncovered in Nippur and brought to the
Museum of the University of Pennsylvania, where it
was translated by Samuel Kramer and Martin Levey.
Considered the oldest medical document of record, this
tablet describes over a dozen remedies extracted from
plants such as myrtle and thyme, and from trees such
as willow, pear, fir, fig, and date. It also mentions
extraction from milk, snakeskin, and turtle shell as well
as table salt and potassium nitrate. This tablet has two
drawbacks: it fails to mention the diseases for which
these remedies were intended or the quantities to be
used in the treatment. Another clay tablet that dates to
the middle of eighteenth century BCE mentions aloe as
a cure for “anything that ails you.” An Egyptian papyrus
written around 1500 BCE confirms the Mesopota-
mian claim; it states that aloe relieves skin afflictions,
infections, and constipation.
Modern scientific studies have confirmed what
Mesopotamians and Egyptians knew some 3,500 years
ago, that aloe has therapeutic powers; it heals burns,
skin lesions, and frostbite; it reduces inflammation and
enhances the immune response. If taken internally,
certain components of aloe reduce stomach acids,
M
relieve the pain of arthritis, and reduce blood sugar in
diabetic patients.
The therapeutic effect of plants is also mentioned in
one of the Sumerian creation stories. Uttu, the goddess
of plantations, after being impregnated by her grandfa-
ther Enki (Lord-Earth), fulfilled her duty and created a
variety of plants. Enki visited Uttu’s plantations and, in
an effort to determine their medical power, he ate some
of them. The goddess Ninhursag (Queen-Mountain),
enraged by what had happened, cursed Enki, who as a
result, fell grievously ill. The Anunnki (Great Gods),
troubled by Enki’s illness, brought Ninhursag to Enlil
(Air-God), their leader, who persuaded her to heal
Enki. To perform that function, she placed the sick god
close to her vulva and began to create a god (a
specialist) for each of the diseases that inflicted him.
Ninhursag placed Enki at her vulva.
‘My brother what hurts you?’ – ‘My tooth hurts
me.’
‘I have caused Ninsutu to be born for you.’
‘My brother what hurts you?’ – ‘My mouth hurts
me.’
‘I have caused Ninkasi to be born for you.’
‘My brother what hurts you?’ – ‘My rib hurts me.’
‘I have caused Ninti to be born for you.’
1520 Medicine in ancient Mesopotamia
The similarity between the creation of Ninti (Lady
of the Life or Lady of the Rib) from the rib of Enki
and the creation of the biblical Eve from the rib of
Adam has been recognized since these verses were
translated.
The therapeutic effect of plants was mentioned only
rarely. The general public believed that demons and
evil spirits caused all diseases, and magical cures were
predominant. This led to devising and adopting various
protective methods, such as hiding from the sight of
evil demons, which in turn led to the use of masks and
symbolic chains that protected loved ones from harmful
contacts. Another way of hiding from evil spirits was
by painting the patient in a variety of colors, and this is
might be the origin of tattoos. Changing the patient’s
name was another way of fooling the evil spirits,
preventing them from finding him.
Other forms of protection against harmful demons
included the administration of seven drops of a liquid,
the assistance of a special person – a child, a virgin, a
firstborn – and a variety of amulets such as odd-shaped
stones, and threads spun from a virgin kid. Such charms
were attached to the head, neck, or limbs of the patient,
or tied about his bed or at the entrance of his dwelling.
These ancient protective devices may be viewed as
the precursors of ornaments or signs used today, such as
the statues of Buddha, crosses, and small boxes
containing Quranic verses, usually worn around the
neck, and also the signs of the cross painted above the
doors of certain homes and statements such as “God
bless our home,” hung on the wall.
In a society governed by demons, magic, and
fetishes, individuals who possessed the power to pacify
angry spirits and triumph over powerful evil forces
became respected and admired. They were the priest–
magicians–physicians, who rose to prominence, not
only in Mesopotamia, but also in other societies. They
called for the help of benevolent gods to frighten away
evil spirits. In many instances they also foretold the
future by observing the stars and other celestial
phenomena, or by studying the liver of an animal or a
fellow human being. They taught the people how to
avoid forthcoming calamities. In modern religions, this
function has been taken over by prophets, saints, and
the clergy, who could intercede with God on behalf of
people in need.
Mesopotamian society was host to such practices for
some 2,000 years, from the early Sumerian period until
Hammurabi’s rule. During that long period, magician–
priests were the dominant factor in medical practices.
But astrology also played an important role. The
conjunction of the stars at the birth of a child was
thought to determine his lot all through life as well as
the time and manner of his death. This belief is still held
by many people, and many prominent newspapers still
publish a daily astrological column. This is but one of
many ancient myths still flourishing in our time.
Another magical concept came about from the belief
that blood is responsible for all vital functions and for
the continuation of life and must be provided with the
proper nourishment. The liver was assumed to be the
organ that receives the blood and was considered
the seat of all life processes. Accordingly, when an
animal was sacrificed, its liver was thoroughly examined
for signs of destiny. Divinations were derived from its
position, its form, and any irregularities it possessed.
This concept passed unaltered from Sumerian medicine
into Assyrio-Babylonian and then west into Canaanite,
Hittite, and Etruscan medicine. In turn, the Etruscans
passed it to the Romans. The Latin word for liver,
haruspex, has its origin in the old Babylonian word for
liver, har. Haruspicy, or divination using livers of
animals of slain enemies, survived in Greece for several
centuries after the advent of Christianity.
Various forms of magic were used to rid the patient
of the invading demon. A magician–physician would
wear a terrifying mask, cover himself with animal skin,
and make wild noises, dance and jump, and rave until the
patient laughed, a sign that the invading demon was
frightened away. Did the ancient Mesopotamians discov-
er the healing power of laughter? Another method to get
rid of the demon was to set its image on fire. Often the
image was shown bound, hand, and foot, its eyes pierced,
and its tongues pulled out. Then the mutilated image was
thrown into the fire.
Yet another method of extracting the demon from
the body of the patient was to find a substitute: a lamp,
a pig, or a bird. The chosen substitute was placed near
the sick person, and then killed by tearing out its
insides, enticing the demon to leave the patient and
enter the body of the substitute. The animal was then
offered to the gods as a sacrifice. Humans did not
consume its meat. This notion of passing an unclean
spirit from a person to an animal survived and spread
west with Christianity as Jesus ordered the unclean
spirit, Legion, to leave a mad man and enter a herd of
swine (New Jerusalem Bible, Mark 5: 8–13). Based on
the belief that the evil spirit could enter a person and
drive him insane, many people so inflicted were
chained and put in dark caves, dungeons, or locked in
a cellar, barn, or an attic to force the evil spirit to leave
them. This method continued to be practiced in Europe
and the Middle East well into the nineteenth century.
All medical treatments were based on the notion
of forcing the evil spirits to leave the body of the patient,
and all cures, regardless of their nature, were effective
because they performed that function. In time the
approach did change; scaring or disgusting the invading
spirits gave way to pleasing and appeasing them. This
was accomplished by treating the patient and therefore
the evil spirits with delicious drugs, such as honey, milk,
and sweet smelling herbs.
Based on their experience with irrigation and the
effect of sweet water on the growth of vegetation, the

Mesopotamians reasoned that water held healing
powers. As this phenomenon was common and readily
observable, many ancient civilizations reached similar
conclusions, and sweet water became the medicine of
choice, and the gods of healing in many civilizations
were associated with sweet water. The Sumerian god
Enki, whose abode was Apsu, the underground sweet
water, was the god of healing, and so was the
Babylonian god Ea, the god of the underground sweet
water, and the wisest of all the gods. The Phoenician
god of healing, Ashmun, was associated with the river
and the pond that bears his name (the name has since
been changed to al-Awwaly), and most of the Greek
and Roman gods of the medical art were associated
with sweet water. To wash away an ailment, the patient
drank the water, sprinkled it over his head, or bathed in
it. As a result many rivers, lakes, and pools became
sacred and revered for their healing powers. Many
still are.
When water was administered to relieve a patient
from the clutches of demons, an incantation was
usually chanted. One such incantation associated with
the god Ea ritual reads:
With pure, clear water,
With bright, shining water,
Seven times and again seven times,
Sprinkle purify, cleanse!
May the evil Rabisyu depart!
May he step to one side!
The water was sprinkled seven times and again seven
times because the number seven was considered sacred.
The ancient use of sweet water as a healing commodity
may have served as a prelude to Christian baptisms.
Other rituals were later introduced. Among them was
rubbing the patient with butter, milk, or oil while
chanting the proper incantation.
During the golden age of Babylon, King Hammurabi
put forth his code of law in which he detailed reward
for various successful medical operations and de-
scribes penalties for failures. One such law reads, “If a
physician performs a major operation on a nobleman
with a bronze lancet and saves his life, or opens up the
eye of a nobleman with a bonze lancet and saves the
nobleman’s eye, he shall receive ten shekels of silver.”
In Babylonian society there were three classes: nobility,
commoners, and slaves. The eye of a commoner was
worth half that of a nobleman’s, and if a practitioner
saved the eye of a slave, his reward was only two
shekels.
To discourage imposters, Hammurabi put stiff
penalties on failures. “If a surgeon shall make a severe
wound with an operating knife and kill the patient, or
shall open an abscess with an operating knife and
destroy the eye, his hand shall be cut off.” This was
probably intended to prevent imposters from practicing
medicine. Of course, penalties were less severe if the
Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people 1521
patient was a commoner or a slave. “If a physician shall
make a severe wound with a bronze operating knife on
the slave of a free man and kill him, he shall replace the
slave with another slave. If he shall open an abscess
with a bronze operating knife and destroy the eye, he
shall pay half the value of the slave.”
The fact that such legislation was needed in
eighteenth century BCE proves that such operations
were fairly common, and that the people of Babylon
were enjoying the services of a class of able physicians.
It also proves that empirical medicine was beginning to
displace magic and exorcist medicine, but not to
eliminate it. The two survived side by side for
centuries, as they still do.
References
Durant, Will. The Story of Civilization: Our Oriental
Heritage. New York: MJF Books, 1935.
Kramer, Samuel Noah. History Begins at Sumer. Philadel-
phia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981.
Jastrow, Morris, Jr. The Civilization of Babylonia and Assyria.
Philadelphia and London: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1915.
Saggs, H. W. F. The Greatness That Was Babylon. A Survey
of Ancient Civilization of the Tigris-Euphrates Valley.
New York and Washington: Frederick A. Praeger, 1962.
Krumbhaar, E. B. A History of Medicine. 2nd ed. New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1958.
Porter, Roy, ed. Cambridge Illustrated History of Medicine.
Cambridge, New York, Melborne: Cambridge University M
Press, 1996.
Salem, Semaàn and Lynda Salem. The Near East, the Cradle
of Western Civilization. San Jose, New York, Lincoln,
Shanghai: Writers Club Press, 2000.
Medicine of the Australian
Aboriginal People
D AYALAN D EVANESEN , PATRICK M AHER
Australia is the only continent to have been occupied
exclusively by nomadic hunters and gatherers until
recent times. Carbon dating of skeletal remains proves
that Australian Aboriginal history started some
40,000 years ago, long before Captain Cook landed on
the eastern coast in 1770. This history is not completely
lost. It is retained in the minds and memories of
successive generations of Aboriginal people, passed on
through a rich oral tradition of song, story, poetry and
legend. According to Aboriginal belief all life forms,
human, animal, plant and mineral are part of one vast
unchanging network of relationships which can be
traced to the great spirit ancestors of the Dreamtime.
The Dreamtime continues as the “Dreaming” or
Jukurrpa in the spiritual lives of Aboriginal people
1522 Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people

today. The events of the Dreamtime are enacted in

ceremonies and dances and chanted incessantly to the
accompaniment of didgeridoo or clapsticks (Isaacs
1980). The Dreaming is the source of the rich artistry,
creativity and ingenuity of the Aboriginal people.
In Australia, Western health services have been
superimposed on traditional Aboriginal systems of
health care. However, these traditional systems have
survived despite the dramatic influence of cultural
contact, and Aboriginal medicine is still widely
practised in the Northern Territory today (Tynan 1979;
Nathan and Japanangka 1983; Reid 1983; Soong 1983;
Devanesen 1985; Maher 1999). The Northern Territory
occupies one-sixth of the Australian land mass. It has a
population of just under 200,000 of which 28% are
Aboriginal. The vast majority of the Aborigines live in
small remote communities scattered across the Territory.
Traditional Aboriginal medicine is a complex system
closely linked to the culture and beliefs of the people,
knowledge of their land and its flora and fauna. Its
survival is explained by its “embeddedness” in the
Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People.
social fabric of Aboriginal culture. Reid (1983) has Fig. 1 Health symbol for Yuendumu: Napangardi women’s
shown that, though Aborigines living at Yirrkala in the Jukurrpa or Dreamtime.
Northern Territory choose Western biomedicine to treat
the majority of their sicknesses, they continue to
explain the causes of these sicknesses through their
to society and the land itself ” (Morgan et al. 1997: 598).
traditional beliefs. This may be because the health
A person’s social responsibilities and obligations may
beliefs continue to play a role in providing meaning to
take precedence over their own health because of the
events and thereby helping people to cope with serious
priority given to social relationships in this model.
illness and death (Reid 1983).
Sorcery and supernatural intervention are part of the
The Aboriginal approach to health care is a holistic
perceived reality of Aboriginal life (Waldock 1984),
one. It recognises the social, physical and spiritual
and in Aboriginal society explanations in terms of
dimensions of health and life. Their concept of health in
sorcery are often used. The deaths of infants or the very
many ways is close to the World Health Organisation
old or chronically ill are considered to be in the normal
definition of health: “a state of complete physical,
course of events, while deaths outside these groups
mental and social well being and not merely the
may have a supernatural influence, especially if they
absence of disease or infirmity”. The Warlpiri Aborigi-
are regarded as premature, unexpected and sudden
nal tribe have described health as “life” or Wankaru.
(Reid and Mununggurr 1977).
Their definition takes in a whole of life cycle. The
There are many beliefs associated with supernatural
front of their health centre at the Aboriginal settle-
interventions and sorcery:
ment of Yuendumu is adorned with the painting in
Fig. 1. It shows family life, food, shelter, warmth, water . Sorcery exists in many forms. Its effect is to
and exercise, all of which are essential for health manipulate and alter behaviour and cause morbidity
(Devanesen 1983). and mortality.
. Sorcerers can be specialists or non-specialists.
. Distant groups have the most virulent sorcery and are
Traditional Indigenous Health Systems the most feared.
The traditional health beliefs of Aboriginal people are . Many diseases come from dangerous, secret sacred
interconnected with many aspects of Aboriginal life sites. They are manifestations of the forces or power
such as the land, kinship obligations and religion (Tynan emanating from those sites.
1979). The sociomedical system of health beliefs held . Unskilled or uninitiated people may release forces
by Aboriginal people places emphasises on social and from a dangerous site by disturbing the site.
spiritual dysfunction causing illness. This approach . Sorcery is carried out in secrecy.
emphasises that “individual well-being is always . Retribution sorcery is directed serially at members of
contingent upon the effective discharge of obligations a family or lineage. Therefore, the serious illness or

death of one member is followed by the illness and
death of others.
. A traditional healer can apply counter measures to
identify the cause and source of illness and death, but
the healer should not interfere if it is the result of
legitimate punishment (Biernoff 1982).
The ill effects of sorcery will not necessarily be felt only
by the “offender”, but may also be felt by his/her family
and descendants. While the thought of sorcery is
prominent in Aboriginal life, people do not live in
constant fear of sorcery. Sorcery is usually an explana-
tion that is applied retrospectively to explain deaths,
serious illness or injury (Reid and Williams 1984).
The concept of supernatural intervention and sorcery
plays an important function as “it explains why one
person and not another died or became ill at a certain time
and not at another” (Reid and Mununggurr 1977: 39).
It provides the explanations of “why me” and “why now”
which cannot be answered in terms of Western medical
theory. It provides the answer to the ultimate cause of
the event.
Many have acknowledged the cultural diversity,
particularly in regard to health beliefs, between
Aboriginal groups and communities (Reid 1983; Elkin
1994). We have therefore chosen to describe the
features of the traditional indigenous medical system
by particular reference to one tribe, the Warlpiri.
Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People. Table 1 The powers and healing techniques of Aboriginal traditional healers
Powers/capabilities
• have assistance from the spirit world to assist healing
• telepathy
• divination
• X-ray vision
• clairvoyance
• telesthesia
• control the weather
• mind reading
• walk on fire
• inserting healing objects into patient’s body
• magically heal wounds including internal wounds
• travel at fast pace
• protect people against attack from spirits via counter
sorcery
• commune with spiritual beings including the dead
• manipulate a patient’s spirit
• spirit travel
• able to project their spirit into the body of patient
• able to replace patient’s blood with their own
• able to communicate with the spirit world
Sources: Nathan and Japanangka (1983), Reid (1983), Elkin (1994), Peile (1997), Cawte (1974), Taylor (1977), Tonkinson (1982), Toussaint
(1989), Berndt (1964), Soong (1983), Brady (1995), Hunter (1993) and Eastwell (1973). From Maher (1999). Used with the permission of
Blackwell Science Asia.
Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people 1523
Traditional Health System of the Warlpiri
Aborigines
The Warlpiri Aborigines comprise one of the largest
tribes in the Northern Territory. They are scattered over
many Aboriginal communities in the northwest of
Central Australia. The main components of the Warlpiri
health system are the ngangkayikirili or traditional
healers, commonly referred to as ngangkari or ngangkayi
(healing power), Yawulyu ceremonies; healing songs and
herbal medicine. In addition there are laws governing
behaviour that are aimed at preventing sickness.
Ngangkari
Traditional healers have a variety of roles, including
providing strong spiritual and social support (Reid
1983; Soong 1983); determining the ultimate cause of a
serious illness or injury (Nathan and Japanangka 1983;
Reid 1983; Peile 1997; Tynan 1979); determining
cause of deaths at an “inquest” (Nathan and Japanangka
1983; Reid 1983; Peile 1997; Tynan 1979); and
employing counter sorcery to remove the evil influ-
ences causing illness (Reid 1983; Tynan 1979). They
are believed to have many powers to undertake these
roles and utilise numerous different healing techniques
(see Table 1).
Professor Elkin (1994) referred to the traditional
healers as Aboriginal men of high degree. The healers
M
Healing techniques
• provide positive emotional support
• physical contact and touching
• massage
• extraction of objects causing illness from a patient’s body via
sucking, rubbing or massage
• smoking used ritually (after initiation or death) or therapeuti-
cally for mothers and babies after childbirth
• use of healing songs and chanting
• counselling
• using objects with healing powers
• dreaming
• cleansing the patients’ internal organ(s) while they asleep
1524 Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people
are kindred to Amerindian “men of power” and
shamans. These healers are specially chosen and
trained to remove the influence of sorcery and evil
spirits and to restore the well being of the soul or spirit.
Their role is extremely important because most serious
illness is thought to be brought about by loss of a vital
substance from the body (soul loss), introduction of a
foreign and harmful substance into the body (spirit
intrusion or possession) and violation of taboos or
sorcery (singing). The traditional healers usually gain
the power to heal through inheritance or through
special spiritual experiences. They possess a spirit
called mapanpa which is associated with healing
power. This is different from the spirit that every
Warlpiri person has “like a shadow” (Tynan 1979).
The traditional healer carries out a healing ritual
which often includes sucking the sick person. After
sucking, the healer usually spits out a wooden object
called yarda which is covered in blood. The yarda
represents the evil influence. Sometimes, the traditional
healer massages the patient, manipulates the body or
sings during the ritual. The traditional healer may
diagnose the state of the spirit, e.g. kurrunpa yulangu
(the spirit is sad). The traditional healers do not use
herbal medicine in their practice.
Yawulyu Ceremonies and Healing Songs
Warlpiri women frequently perform Yawulyu ceremo-
nies. These ceremonies improve the health of sick
people but cannot remove the influence of sorcery. The
ceremony consists of singing songs and painting
designs on the sick person. These designs are derived
from the power of the Dreamtime (see Fig. 2). Each
ritual is carried out by the kirda (owners) or
kurdungurlu (managers) of a particular “Dreaming”.
Sometimes the songs and designs appear to the people
in their dreams and are thought to be revealed by spirit
creatures called yinawuru (Munn 1973). During the
ceremony the sick person may be massaged with fat
Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People.
Fig. 2 Yawulyu designs on women – yam dreaming.
and red ochre. These materials derive special potency
from the songs. In some cases senior men and women
sing songs without the ceremony to strengthen sick
people. Songs are sometimes sung to ensure safe
childbirth. The Yawulyu ceremonies and songs assist in
providing strong family support for the sick person.
Herbal Medicine
Herbal medicine and knowledge of plants is not the
domain of any particular group in the Warlpiri system.
The whole family shares its knowledge and use. The
Warlpiri have extensive knowledge of plants and have
published their own book which lists several plants and
their medicinal uses (Henshall et al. 1980).
Medicinal plants are mainly used symptomatically
for coughs and colds, pains and aches. Some are used
as dressings for wounds and sores. The main conditions
that herbal remedies were used for reflect the types of
sickness that Aborigines had before contact with
Western society. They were joint and muscle pain,
toothache and sore mouth, gastro-intestinal disorders,
symptoms of colds and flu, e.g. fever, headache and ill-
defined pain, congestion, cough, general malaise, sore
throat, sores, boils, cuts, scabies, bites, stings, burns
and major wounds, warts, allergy rash and itchy skin
disorders, ringworm, other tinea form skin infections,
eye disorders and fever.
Aboriginal expertise regarding plants has been
acknowledged for many years. Webb (1969) has shown
that many Aboriginal bush medicines contain biologi-
cally active compounds. Bitter Bark (Alstonia con-
stricta), used to prepare a tonic, contains reserpine, a
tranquilliser and antihypertensive. Plants used on sores
and wounds contain proteolytic enzymes that help
healing. Spilanthes, a native daisy used to treat
toothache, has been shown to contain spilanthol – a
local anaesthetic. Over half the world’s supply of the
drugs hyoscine and scopolamine come from an
Australian native tree Duboisia, which was used by
Aborigines as an emu and fish poison (Pearn 1981).
Herbal medicine was the first component of the
Warlpiri health system to be eroded by the introduction
of Western medicine. However, the movement of the
Warlpiri people back to their traditional land has led to
a renewal of interest in the use of herbal medicine.
A program by the Northern Territory Department of
Health that commenced in 1973 to collect information
regarding the Aboriginal use of plants has helped non-
Aboriginal staff to appreciate the great knowledge and
complexity of the Aboriginal health system (Devanesen
and Henshall 1982).
In 1995 staff at a remote health centre in the
Northern Territory carried out a study to compare the
effectiveness of wound healing by the use of a
traditional remedy, Bauhinia root (Lysiphyllum cun-
ninghamii) and a Western preparation in the treatment

of boils, sores and scabies. The study concluded that
the herbal medicine was as effective as the Western
preparation. In addition the Aboriginal people felt more
comfortable using the traditional remedies and felt a
sense of pride in their own traditional knowledge and
culture (McLean et al. 1996).
The Warlpiri Health System
The Warlpiri health system can be represented as in
Fig. 3.
When someone falls sick, one of the three main
components of the health system is tried. If it does not
work, another component is used or the same
component tried again until there is a definite outcome.
Preventing Sickness
Reid (1982) gives a good description of prevention
at the level of personal relationship and religious
injunctions:
Preventive measures can include avoiding foods
prohibited during ceremonies or life crises,
obeying ritual proscriptions, taking care not to
abuse ones’ land or trespass on territories of
others, avoiding prohibited sacred sites or ap-
proaching them with ritual protection, observing
debts and obligations to others, containing anger,
violence or jealousy, exercising caution in inter-
actions with strangers and taking steps to avoid
sorcery or often conflict with others.
The methods of preventing illness link in directly with
what are regarded as the ultimate causes of illness
under the Aboriginal model of causation of illness. In
summary, good health is associated with strict
adherence to approved patterns of behaviour and
avoidance of dangerous places, people and objects
(Biernoff 1982).
The Place of Western Medicine
Western medicine has been incorporated into this
system at the same level as herbal medicine. By doing
this, the Warlpiri are able to retain their belief in spirit
causation of illness while using Western medicine for
the relief of symptoms.
Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People. Fig. 3 The Warlpiri health system (adapted from Tynan 1979).
Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people 1525
Changes are taking place in the illness-related beliefs
of Aborigines in the Northern Territory. Reid’s study at
Yirrkala shows that this change is characterised by the
“gradual addition of causes and elaboration of the
existing causes within the aetiological domain”. Reid
lists three categories of causes (1) social and spiritual
causes, e.g. sorcery or breaking the law; (2) causes
other than social or spiritual, e.g. emotional state, old
age, assault; and (3) emergent causes, e.g. alcohol, sin,
smoking (Reid 1983).
Aboriginal people use the strategy of domain
separation to divide illness into Aboriginal and Western
causes. This involves thinking in terms of separated
cultural or social domains and deciding when to apply
the rules of each domain (Harris 1988). This strategy
occurs not only in the area of health beliefs, but also in
other areas to respond to cultural uncertainty, to reduce
social complexity and stress and to deal with social
dilemma (Harris 1988).
There are a variety of behavioural patterns of seeking
medical assistance that traditional people use during
illness:
. Sequential (use one practitioner then another kind,
e.g. Western then traditional or vice versa)
. Compartmental (using traditional medicine for
conditions which have established traditional ex-
planations)
. Concurrent (concurrent use of traditional and M
Western forms of health care; Armstrong and
Fitzgerald 1996)
Aboriginal people use all these patterns (Reid 1983;
Peile 1997; Tynan 1979; Elliot 1984; Tonkinson 1982;
Gray 1979; Berndt 1964). This model is best expressed
in Fig. 4.
Generally combinations of traditional and Western
medicines are used (Reid 1983; Tynan 1979). Western
medicine may relieve symptoms and provide explana-
tions to the mechanism of how something occurred
while traditional explanations provide the reason why it
occurred and are able to address the ultimate cause. In
cases of supernatural intervention Western medicine is
used to treat the symptoms and to hasten the cure,
provided it does not conflict with traditional beliefs, but
it is not able to remove the cause of the illness (Tynan
1526 Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people
Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People. Fig. 4 Model of Aboriginal behavioural patterns of seeking medical
assistance (from Maher 1999). Used with the permission of Blackwell Science Asia.
1979; Waldock 1984). In contrast only Western medicine
can affect emergent Western illnesses (Waldock 1984;
Scrimgeour et al. 1997).
In spite of this attempt to incorporate Western
medicine into the traditional system, there are areas
of conflict. Western medicine is based upon particular
Western explanatory models. Variation in the underly-
ing beliefs, assumptions and general medical informa-
tion has been implicated as the basis for the conscious
rejection of Western health care by some Aborigines
(Hamilton 1974). It is well known that differences in
underlying knowledge systems impede even willing
compliance between culturally divergent groups. The
lack of a common conceptual framework within which
patient and practitioner can interact may result in
decreased compliance and satisfaction (Maher 1999).
Development of Traditional Practice in Health
Services to Aboriginal People
There has been government support with recognition
for traditional Aboriginal medicine since the 1970s. A
report on Aboriginal health by the Australian Parlia-
ment recommended that:
Aboriginal cultural beliefs and practices which
affect their health and their use of health services
such as their fear of hospitalisation, their attitudes
to pain and surgery, the role of traditional healers
and the differing needs and roles of Aboriginal
men and women, be fully taken into account in the
design and implementation of health care pro-
grams (Commonwealth of Australia 1979).
Bicultural Medicine
Two-way medicine is the term that has been coined by
Aboriginal health workers (AHWs) to describe a
bicultural approach to health care. It is based on the
principle that “if you can use what is best in modern
medicine together with what is best in traditional
healing, the combination may be better than either one
alone” (Werner 1977). The Northern Territory Depart-
ment of Health’s first policy on Aboriginal health stated
that “traditional medicine is a complementary and vital
part of Aboriginal health care, and its value is recognised
and supported” (Northern Territory Department of
Health 1982). The Northern Territory Department of
Health over the years has established several programs
that recognise the traditional health system, Aboriginal
values and beliefs.
Support for Traditional Healers/Ngangkari
Traditional healers were employed by the Northern
Territory Department of Health at various rural health
centres in Central Australia in the early 1970s. While
this practice has ceased, rural health centres continue to
recognise and cooperate with traditional healers in the
management of sick people, and some remote health
centres run by Aboriginal Community Controlled
Organisations have recommenced the employment of
traditional healers. The healers often act also as
consultants for determining culturally appropriate
service delivery.
A meeting of Ngangkaris was held near Uluru,
Central Australia, in April 2000. Over 40 Ngangkaris
gathered together to discuss the production of an
information manual about the work, history and
traditions of Ngangkari (Mullins 2000).
A recent proposal to establish an Aboriginal Healing
Centre close to the Alice Springs Hospital is being
examined. The centre would develop a place to
promote spiritual health supported by a network of
traditional Aboriginal healers.
Aboriginal Health Workers
There are over 300 AHWs in the Northern Territory
today. The AHW training program is recognised as one
of the main strategies for improving Aboriginal health.
AHWs are selected by their own communities and
 Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people 1527

Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People. Fig. 5 Aboriginal medicine and Western medicine.

trained in various Western medical skills. They have

proved highly successful in treating common health
problems in Aboriginal communities, such as diar-
rhoea, chest infections, trachoma, and ear and skin
infections. They also act as mediators between Western
and traditional medical systems.
Aboriginal health workers bridge the “cultural
chasm” separating the traditional and Western world-
views. They relate Western beliefs to an Aboriginal
conceptual framework, making it possible for Aborigi-
nal patients to understand what is being said and to
assess the validity of the statements. They make it M
possible for the health centre teams to communicate with Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People.
Aborigines in language and concepts that they under- Fig. 6 Witchety grub (Xyleutes).
stand. In most Aboriginal communities, the people’s
point of entry into the Western health system is through
the AHW who may refer them to a nurse or doctor or
back to the traditional system as shown in Fig. 5.

The Bush Food Program

Aboriginal people often view food as their medicine.
Many foods are known to strengthen the body against
sickness or promote healing. Some prized foods such as
the witchety grub (Xyleutes) are crushed and used for
treatment of burns and wounds. The grubs are
nutritious as well, with protein (15.1%), fat (19.2%),
100 mg thiamine and 5 mg vitamin C per 100 g (see
Fig. 6).
In 1981, the Northern Territory Department of
Health launched the Bush Food Program which sought Medicine of the Australian Aboriginal People.
to establish a durable record of traditional Aboriginal Fig. 7 Bush banana (Leichardtia australis).
food practices and beliefs and develop a more relevant
and acceptable style of nutrition education.
A publication on the nutritional composition of 42 L. leptophylla; see Fig. 7) and the water lily root
Bush Foods collected through this Program has some (Nymphae macrosperm) contain very high proportions
interesting results (Brand et al. 1983). The green plum of protein, and the list goes on.
(Terminiala ferdinandiana) contains 3,150 mg/100 g of The Bush Foods Program has led to the stimulation
Vitamin C, making it the richest source of Vitamin C in of reciprocal learning processes between two cultures
the world. The bush banana (Leichardtia australis and and the self-examination of attitudes and values.
1528 Medicine of the Australian aboriginal people
The current health status of Aboriginal people is
characterised by unacceptable levels of morbidity and
mortality. Aboriginal life expectancy is 20 years less
than other Australians; Western medicine has not
solved many of the Aboriginal health problems.
Traditional medicine is part of Aboriginal culture. Its
recognition can bolster the self-confidence of Aborigi-
nal people and improve the delivery of health services
to Aboriginal communities. Two-way medicine needs
to be supported and developed with ongoing research
to evaluate the therapeutic value of traditional medi-
cine. The increasing worldwide popularity and use of
complementary and alternative medicine may assist in
the development and sustainability of Aboriginal
traditional medicine and healing in Australia.
Acknowledgements
All references to the Warlpiri tribe are with the kind
permission and consent of the Yuendumu Council.
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Medicine in China
C AI J INGFENG
The term Chinese medicine has a dual implication. It
refers both to all medical systems prevalent in
contemporary China and to traditional or indigenous
medicine in its narrow sense (TCM for short). The
former includes three medical systems: traditional,
biomedical, or Western medicine as the Chinese call it,
and integrated Chinese and western medicine.
Traditional Chinese medicine includes the experi-
ences of fighting against disease, keeping fit, and
seeking longevity. It was created by all nationalities of
the Chinese people and is the synthesis of the medical
systems of all ethnic groups. For historical reasons,
TCM has been applied exclusively to the indigenous
medical system created by the Han nationality.
Logically, TCM should also include Tibetan, Mongo-
lian, Korean, and Uyghur medicine and that of all
other ethnic groups as well. Unfortunately, this interpre-
tation would go against the common understanding of
Medicine in China 1529
TCM. Hence, in this article we also use TCM in its
narrow sense, referring to the Han-Chinese medical
system only.
TCM has a history of at least three to four millennia.
Archaeological findings reveal that the application of
fire in the Paleolithic age not only brought warmth
and cooked food, which was beneficial to health, but
also resulted in the invention of moxibustion therapy.
The Neolithic age also saw ancient Chinese people
applying the stone knife and “needles” for treating
some external diseases. These passed through a long
process of evolution from stone to needles made of
bamboo, wood, porcelain, bronze, and ultimately
metal. Shining gold and silver needles over 2,000-
years old have been unearthed. The last kind of needle,
in fact, is the basis for the invention of the unique
channel system, though other factors may also have
contributed (Cai 2000). In terms of materia medica,
legend has it that Shen Nong tasted and tried all kinds
of plant herbs and other remedies from natural sources,
beginning at the period of agriculture, about 7000 to
5000 BCE. People of other nationalities also discov-
ered some effective remedies, such as wine from
highland barley for stopping hemorrhages, which was
used by Tibetan people, and Cistanche Salsa, Koumiss
for nourishing the body, which the Mongolian people
use (Cai 2000).
Early in the Xia and Shang Dynasty (twenty-first to
eleventh centuries BCE) some 3,000 years ago, some
M
characters related to medicine were inscribed on bone
and tortoise shells as oracles, including yi (medicine),
bing (disease), and up to several hundred archaic
characters relevant to the healing art. As early as the
Zhou Dynasty (eleventh century BCE–475 BCE),
medicine in the imperial court was divided into four
departments: internal medicine, ulcerative (external)
medicine, dietetic therapy, and veterinary medicine.
TCM had already applied the four diagnostic methods –
inspection, auscultation and olfaction, interrogation,
and palpation (looking, listening and smelling, asking,
and feeling) – by this period. Of these, palpation is the
most worthy of mention. Chinese ancient physicians
may have been the earliest to apply the art of pulse taking
for medical purposes. In the Shi Ji (Historical Record),
compiled by Sima Qian (b. 145 BCE), the Herodotus of
China, in the Western Han Dynasty (206 BCE–AD 24),
it is recorded that the physician Bian Que of the Warring
States Period (475 BCE–22l BCE) was the first one to
apply pulse taking in clinical practice (Chen 1957).
The most famous medical classics were compiled in
the Pre-Qin period (before 221 BCE) and completed
around the Han Dynasty (206 BCE–AD 220). Among
them, the most important and extant ones are Huangdi
Neijing (Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon), Shennong
ben cao jing (Divine Husbandry’s Classic of Herbolo-
gy), Nan Jing (Classic of Questioning), Shang han lun
1530 Medicine in China
(On Diseases Caused by Cold Evil), and Jin gui yao lüe
(Synopsis of Golden Chamber). These lay the founda-
tion for clinical science with definite treatment
principles and diagnostics. Chunyu Yi of the Western
Han (206 BCE–AD 24) Dynasty first formulated case
records for the patients with a fixed pattern.
Chinese pharmacy reveals some outstanding achieve-
ments at this period. Shennong’s Classic of Herbology
presents many specific effective remedies. It sets up the
theoretical basis of drug use, as well as describing
collection, preservation, compounding, simple proces-
sing, and method of administration. Therapeutic effects
of specific drugs, such as rhei for catharsis, coptis root
for asthma, seaweed for goiter, mercury for scabies, and
many others are mentioned (Anonymous, 1956). Their
effectiveness has since been proved by modern
techniques. The famous surgeon of the Later Han
Dynasty (AD 25–220), Hua Tuo, first applied mafei
powder as an anesthetic for some major operations,
including abdominal surgery. As early as the third century
AD, the Mai jing (Classic of Sphygmology), written by
Wang Shuhe, recorded 24 kinds of pulse, touching
the issues concerning heart rate, rhythmicity, condition
of blood flow, texture of the artery, and the nature of
blood itself such as viscosity and hemorrheology. Later,
this Classic spread via Tibet and India to the Arabic
countries, and it is not surprising to note that in the
Canon of Medicine by Ibn Sīnā (980–1037), Arabic
sphygmology has a lot of content in common with
Wang Shuhe’s. The Classic of Sphygmology has been
translated into several foreign languages.
From the second century AD, medical disciplines
were professionalized. The following are worth
mentioning: Zhen jiu jia yi jing (A–B Classic of
Acupuncture and Moxibustion) by Huangfu Mi, Lei
gong pao zhi lun (Master Lei on Drug Processing) by
Lei Xiao, and Liujuanzi gui yi fang (Liu Juanzi’s
Recipes Bequeathed from a Ghost) by Gong Qingxuan,
a textbook of surgery in the fifth century. Clinical
medicine developed tremendously during the period of
the third to tenth centuries. Ge Hong (265–341) was an
expert in clinical medicine and a famous alchemist. His
work, Zou hou bei ji fang (Handbook of Prescription
for Emergency), contained discoveries on tsutsuga-
mushi (mite-borne typhus) and smallpox, inventions
for the treatment of hydrophobia by applying the brain
tissue of the mad dog, and treatment of malaria by the
juice squeezed from the artemisia herb, resulting in the
extraction of a new effective anti-malaria remedy
which is called artemisinin in modern biomedicine.
Moreover, new medical techniques such as abdominal
paracentesis, catheterization, first aid therapy for
foreign bodies in the esophagus, and chiropractic were
also introduced (Cai 1984).
The Sui-Tang Dynasties (618–907) also saw several
major medical issues. The Tai Yi Shu (Imperial
Academy of Medicine) and the Xin xiu ben cao (Newly
Revised Materia Medica) (659) are, respectively,
recognized as the earliest medical university and
pharmacopoeia. Several important medical works were
compiled in this period, representing the improvement
of medical science. Cao Yuanfang’s Zhu bing yuan hou
lun (On Pathegenesis and Manifestations of All
Diseases) is the first elaboration on etiology, pathology,
pathogenesis, and semiology in China. Sun Simiao’s
Bei ji qian jin yao fang (Essential Recipes Worth a
Thousand Gold) contains a great thesaurus of valuable
recipes for many diseases, some still in use today. Wang
Tao’s Wai tai mi yao (Clandestine Essentials from an
Imperial Library Curator) records many effective
recipes. During the Song Dynasty in the tenth to
thirteenth centuries, a Jiaozheng Yishu Ju (Bureau for
Reviewing Medical Publications) and Huimin Heji Ju
(Bureau of Compounding Remedies for Benevolence)
were set up by the Imperial Court. What should be
mentioned here is the casting of two life-sized bronze
human models for acupuncture and moxibustion in
the year 1026, on which the acupoints and channels
were cast on their surfaces. This is not only a valuable
and sophisticated work for appreciation, but also a
skilled model for intuition education which greatly
enhanced the development of the art of acupuncture
and moxibustion.
During the Jin-Yuan Dynasties (1115–1360), four
main academic medical schools appeared, namely the
Schools of Cold-favoring, Spleen-Stomach Benefiting,
Drastic Attack, and Yin-nourishing. Each had its own
emphasis and advocacy, both theoretical and practical.
This greatly advanced the academic development of
Chinese medicine.
The academic standard of Chinese medicine was
further elevated in the Ming-Qing Dynasty (1368–1910).
A new school, the Wenbing Xuepai (Warm Disease
School) evolved from the traditional Shanghan Xuepai
(School of Disease of Exogenous Cold Evil). This
new school was devoted to acute infections. It suc-
cessfully tackled many infectious diseases such as
B-encephalitis, acute viral hepatitis, influenza, and
other viral diseases. Another outstanding contribution
of Chinese medicine in this period was the invention of
a human pox inoculation (variolation) from which
Edward Jenner’s smallpox vaccination drew its inspi-
ration. Variolation should share the merit with
vaccination in the global campaign to eradicate
smallpox. The naturalist Li Shizhen (1518–1593)
contributed his pharmacological knowledge to opening
a new era in the history of Chinese materia medica. His
rich knowledge on natural science aroused the interests
of the evolutionist Charles Darwin, who indirectly cited
many biological examples as evidence supporting his
theory of evolution.
Beginning with the middle of the nineteenth century,
Western medicine, so-called by the Chinese people since
it was introduced by Western medical missionaries,

came to China, resulting in the formation of three
different academic factions in the medical province:
biomedical, traditional or indigenous, and integrative.
Through the ages, Chinese medicine applied and
created a series of unique theoretical systems and prac-
tical techniques. The following is a brief introduction
(Needham, 2000).
The philosophical concept of yin–yang is based on
the observation of contradiction in nature. This was
coordinated into a yin–yang theory for explaining the
law of changes. In the medical circle, people made use
of this idea to interpret the complex relationship
between upper and lower, inner and outer, the body
and nature and society. The equilibrium and harmony
between these two aspects within the body is essential
to and the base of the body’s normal activities and
functions. Conversely, once the harmony is broken,
disorders of the body will develop, thus affecting
normal physiological activities. Physiologically, yin
refers to those tangible structures and yang to invisible
functions. Thus blood itself belongs to yin while its
circulation function falls under the category of yang.
These, in TCM terms, fall under the categories of the
so-called blood and qi. Yin and yang are mutually
dependent. Without qi, blood will be stagnant and
become a pathological entity, while qi attaches itself to
the blood as its place to stay in. Without blood, qi will
be “homeless.” These ideas have direct bearing on the
theory of treatment. Hence, yin and yang are mutually
rooted, interdependent, and inversive.
Ancient philosophy states that the whole universe is
constructed with five basic kinds of materials: wood,
fire, earth, metal, and water. Each element has its own
characteristics. As a microcosm, the human body, which
is comparable to the universe, is also made up of these
five elements. Like the universe, all the organs, tissues,
functions, and systems can be compared with and
assigned to one of the five categories. For instance,
under the wood category, we have liver (yin viscera),
gallbladder (yang viscera), eyes (sensory organ), sinews
or tendons (tissue), sour (taste), wind (climatic factor),
spring (season), anger (emotional state), and green
(color). In the meantime, we have heart, small intestine,
tongue, vessel, bitter, hot, summer, joy, and red under the
fire category; spleen, stomach, mouth, flesh, sweet,
damp, long-summer (the last month of summer),
anxiety, and yellow under the earth category; lung,
large intestine, nose, hair, pungent, dry, autumn, sorrow,
and white under the metal category; and kidney, urinary
bladder, ear, bone, salty, cold, winter, apprehension, and
black under the water category. The five categories have
a dynamic rather than a static relationship, the order
being wood, fire, earth, metal, water, and wood. Each
category can also be conquered or restricted by another
category, the order being wood (restricted by) metal,
fire, water, earth, and wood. Hence we have the title Five
Phases or wuxing with its theoretical system.
Medicine in China 1531
Both the yin–yang principle and the Five Phases
theory are applied clinically for directing and inter-
preting physiology, pathology, diagnostics, treatment,
or even prognosis, and they were proposed and
completed some 2,000 years ago. The yunqi (activity
of qi) or the wu yun liu qi (five activities and six
climatic factors) theory or hypothesis investigates the
influence of astronomical, atmospheric, and climatic
factors on the human body and the occurrence of
diseases. By five activities, it refers to the cyclic
activities or movements of the five phases – wood, fire,
earth, metal, and water – within the four seasons, while
the six climatic factors refer to wind, cold, damp, dry,
hot, and fire. This theory estimates the law of disease
occurrence and yearly changes of weather with as-
tronomy and the calendar as its parameters. In general,
the yearly weather changes are wind in spring, hot in
summer, damp in long-summer, autumn dry, and winter
cold. Thus liver diseases are apt to occur in spring,
heart diseases in summer, spleen diseases in late-
summer, lung diseases in autumn, and kidney diseases
in winter. The theory stressed the relations between
weather and disease which, though a bit mechanical
and controversial, has something to do with chrono-
medicine. This theory reached its zenith a thousand
years ago (Editorial Committee, 1992).
The theory of visceral manifestations deals with the
physiology and pathophysiology of the five yin viscera:
the heart, kidney, spleen, lung, and liver; the six yang
M
viscera: the small intestine, large intestine, stomach,
bladder, gall bladder, and triple jiao (pancreas?); as
well as the extraordinary viscera: the brain, marrow,
bone, vessels, and uterus. The yin viscera function for
the storage of essence and spirit of the body, while the
yang viscera are responsible for the digestion, transfor-
mation, and transportation of residual materials. It is
claimed that there exist mutually dependent inhibition
relations among the yin–yin, yin–yang, and yang–yang
viscera. Visceral manifestations also involve other
body substances, including blood, saliva, mucus,
sputum, body fluid, as well as body functions such as
qi, spiritual forces, and genetic functions. The totality
of the above-mentioned contents forms the visceral
manifestations (Guangdong College, 1972).
Visceral manifestations are closely tied to the theory
of channels. Channels, the passages and tracts for the
circulation of blood and qi, connect the outer with the
inner part of the body and branch repeatedly to form a
network spread over the whole body. Thus, through its
connection, the whole body forms an organic whole.
There are altogether twelve main or orthodox channels,
each with its own underlying viscera, and eight
extraordinary channels and collaterals and capillary
networks. When channels are affected, their functions
change accordingly, manifesting signs and symptoms
by which a correct diagnosis can be made. Regulation
of their functions through various stimulations, such as
1532 Medicine in China
acupuncture, moxibustion, massage, electricity, and
percussing, yields therapeutic results (Guangdong
College, 1972).
TCM stresses the importance of recognition of
etiological factors, which have a direct bearing on the
treatment and prognosis of disease. Harmonious
relationships among the yin–yang viscera themselves,
and between the body and its environment, are crucial
to the health of the body. All diseases occur on the basis
of the disturbance or breaking down of this harmony.
Diseases used to occur when the orthodox qi (body
resistance) was defeated by the heteropathy (pathogenic
evil). Orthodox qi is responsible for the body’s
resistance, preventing it from contracting a disease.
Pathogenic evils include exogenous (climatic), endoge-
nous (emotional), and others (trauma, accidental insect
or snake bites, injuries, dietetic, behavior, etc.). The
relative force between body resistance and pathogenic
factors determines the result of their struggle, either
keeping healthy or falling ill. The aim of treatment is to
support the body’s resistance and remove pathogenic
evils so as to keep one in good health.
There are four diagnostic methods. Inspection
includes the spirit, complexion, form, and status of
the patient. A tongue picture is also essential, including
the texture of the tongue and its coating, the sense
organs, and the condition of excreta. These provide
much information about the condition of the internal
viscera. Auscultation refers to hearing the patient’s
voice, including speaking, respiration, and smelling the
odor from the patient’s body and excreta. Interrogation
refers to questioning the patient and other respondents
about his present illness, past history, and family
history. Palpation includes feeling the pulse and other
parts of the body. It is sometimes said that TCM puts its
main stress on pulse taking, or even relies solely on
pulse taking. This is not true. TCM emphasizes that an
overall diagnosis should have all four diagnostic
methods interpreted comprehensively with equal
importance, instead of relying on any single method
(Guangdong College, 1972).
The determination of syndrome manifestation (bian
zheng) is the kernel of TCM clinical science. It is the
process of analyzing the information and materials
obtained from the four diagnostic methods, differen-
tiating the causes, nature, location, stage of disease, and
the reciprocal condition between the body and the
pathogens. The result of this process is the identifica-
tion of the type of syndrome manifestation, which is
crucial to therapy. Long experience enables Chinese
physicians to form an ensemble of methods, or
determination of syndrome manifestations. There are
many methods. The important ones are the ba gang
(Eight Rubrics), applied for all kinds of diseases; the
Triple jiao Method for warm infectious diseases, and
the Six Channel method for diseases due to cold evil.
Among them, the Eight Rubrics method is the most
important and universally applied one. Eight Rubrics
denotes outer and inner (location of illness), cold
and hot (nature of illness), depletion and repletion
(reciprocal condition between the body resistance and
pathogens), and yin and yang. Within the Eight
Rubrics, the yin–yang is the key couple Rubric that
dominates the other three. Furthermore, a timely, correct
determination of syndrome manifestations, especially
the Eight Rubrics, is the key to a reasonable and
satisfactory therapy. The conception of Eight Rubrics
has taken shape since the Han Dynasty (Cai 2000).
The basic principle for treatment is the exploration of
the root of disease, on which various therapeutic
methods are based. The uniqueness of this is its
flexibility, which varies with the analysis of the
condition. Different treating measures may be given
to the same disease because of different conditions
manifested. Conversely, the same therapeutic measures
may be administered for different diseases because of
their common manifestations. The major principles
include the regulation of yin–yang, supporting the
body’s resistance, and removing pathogenic factors.
During the treatment, differentiation of the true nature
and superficial manifestation, emergency and steadi-
ness, severeness and mildness are of paramount
importance (Guangdong College, 1972).
Moreover, therapy and medication in TCM should be
adjusted to the season, the place, and the different
individual. First, changes of climate in different seasons
exert definite effects on the body. During summer, the
pores in the skin and neighboring tissues are open; in
winter, they are contracted and closed. Hence, while
treating cold disease due to wind and cold evils, therapy
in the summer should not apply too many drugs of a
pungent and warm nature, in order to avoid profuse
sweating, or outer depletion would result. In winter, for
the same cold disorders, pungent and warm drugs can
be applied in substantial amounts, in order to expel the
pathogens through perspiration without the risk of
outer depletion. Since cold is very common in the north,
for cases of external, pathogenic disorders, one can use
a heavy dose of pungent and warm drugs for dispersion
of pathogens through perspiration. Applying the same
principle to the southern part where weather is generally
hot, only a light dose of pungent and warm drugs can
be used, to avoid profuse perspiration. Thirdly, all
patients vary in sex, age, and body constitution. More-
over, women have the added complications of child-
bearing, menstruation, and vaginal discharge, while
children have tender and delicate visceral systems.
These conditions should be taken into account and
carefully considered when prescribing. For instance,
with a patient who is sensitive to cold with a constitution
of cold tendency, cool or cold drugs should be used with
caution, and vice versa for those of hot tendency.

As to concrete treating measures, basically there are
eight therapeutic methods: diaphoresis, emesis, cathar-
sis, mediation, warming, clearing, removing, and
benefiting. All these methods are applied not only
for drug therapy, but also for non-drug therapies such
as acupuncture, moxibustion, massage, and others
(Guangdong College, 1972).
In terms of Chinese materia medica, all the drugs
applied are natural products, including those from the
plant and animal kingdoms as well as minerals. Most
of the pharmacological knowledge is derived from
practice. Pharmacological theory is summarized, again
on the basis of experience. The theory is also unique. It
claims that the potential of the drug comes from its
“nature,” composed of four qi and five flavors. The four
qi are cool, cold, warm, and hot, while the five flavors
refer to sour, salty, sweet, bitter, and pungent. The
theory also includes channel tropisms, the functions of
ascending, descending, floating, and sinking, as well as
the toxicity of drugs. The nature of drugs is relevant to
the condition of the disease as determined by diagnosis
through differentiation of syndrome manifestations
within the Eight Rubrics. Antagonistic therapy such
as cool or cold drugs for heat disease, and warm or heat
drugs for cold disease, is commonly used. Drugs with
ascending nature are applied for heat disease of
“collapsed” nature, such as gastroptosis and the like,
whereas drugs with descending nature are applied for
disease of uprushing or adverse ascending flow of
normal qi, such as hiccough, belching, vertigo,
dizziness, and rushing up of liver fire. The channel
tropism of drugs is directly related to the channel
attribution of disease. For instance, the primordial stage
of influenza falls under the category of Taiyang Channel
disorders; hence, drugs of Taiyang Channel tropism are
to be applied. Compatibility of drug compounding and
toxicity of drugs are all highly stressed in Chinese
pharmacy. Precautions when administering drugs are
also unique. The breaking of necessary precautions
would lead to failure of even a correct treatment. All the
drugs are prepared in various forms, including decoc-
tion, powder, paste, pills, bolus, ointment, patent drug,
and also modern drug forms like injection and aerosol.
TCM also pays attention to the time of taking drugs,
claiming that this has a direct bearing on the chrono-
physiology of the body and on its therapeutic efficacy.
The ingredients for compounds of Chinese medical
recipes are differentiated into the “king,” “ministers,”
“assistants,” and “servants.” The aim of this compound-
ing is to focus on the mutual synergic and detoxifying
action among the ingredients. As a result, the effect is
much more satisfactory than single drug administra-
tion, and the toxicity is much ameliorated or even
eliminated.
Acupuncture and moxibustion are special treating
techniques as well as health care measures in TCM.
Medicine in China 1533
Acupuncture refers to the needling of specific loci, the
acupoints for stimulation, to regulate the disharmoni-
ous state and arouse the resistance potential of the body.
Moxibustion refers to the application of heat stimula-
tion with a moxa roll or cone on the point or affected
site instead of using a needle. As soon as the body is
stimulated by these means, the afflicted qi and blood
inside the channels and viscera are improved, activated,
and regulated. Pathogens are expelled or eliminated,
and normal physiological function is restored. The basic
idea of acupuncture–moxibustion is also established
on the same principles as TCM, i.e., treatment based
on the differentiation of syndrome manifestations,
although it also has its own special demand such as
manipulation techniques.
Massage and qigong exercise are also integral parts
of TCM. The former is performed by specific manipu-
lation techniques on acupoints or specific locations,
while the latter is a self-care method in which the
patient consciously controls his/her own mind, body,
and the circulation of qi through controlling one’s
breathing movement. It is said that a proficient
exerciser may even direct the flowing of qi in his/her
own body at will.
TCM pays attention to disease prevention, or so-
called “treating pre-illness” in the Chinese term.
Various measures are proposed for this purpose, among
them self-care massage, Daoyin, Taiji boxing, hygienic
measures, and breathing exercises.
M
Since the basic conception of traditional Chinese
medicine took its shape several thousand years ago, it
applied concepts which are rather abstract and vague,
not tangible or perceptible, let alone quantitatively
estimated. To meet the needs of modern investigation
and understanding, over the decades TCM workers
have been encouraged to integrate and interpret their
knowledge by modern scientific concepts, means, and
techniques. A new school, the School of Integrated
Traditional and Western Medicine, has thus emerged.
This has become one of the modem trends in the
development of China’s medical science (Cai 2000).
See also: ▶Moxibustion, ▶Bian Que, ▶Huangdi
Neijing, ▶Medical Texts in China, ▶Yin–yang, ▶Acu-
puncture, ▶Ge Hong, ▶Shanghan lun, ▶Ibn Sīnā,
▶Li Shizhen, ▶Five Phases (Wuxing)
References
Anonymous. Rpt. of Divine Husbandry’s Classic of Herbol-
ogy. Beijing: People’s Health Publishing House, 1956.
Cai, Jingfeng. World Records in Chinese Medical History.
Changsha, China: Hunan People’s Publishing House, 1984.
Cai, Jingfeng, et al. ed. A General History of Chinese
Medicine. Beijing: People’s Health Publishing House,
2000.
1534 Medicine in China: Forensic medicine
Chen, Bangxian. A History of Chinese Medicine. Beijing:
Commercial Press, 1957.
Editorial Committee of Chinese Great Encyclopedia. Tradi-
tional Chinese Medicine. Volume of the Chinese Great
Encyclopedia. Beijing: Publishing House of Great Ency-
clopedia, 1992.
Guangdong College of Chinese Medicine, et al. Revised
Outline of Chinese Medicine. Beijing: People’s Health
Publishing House, 1972.
Huangfu, Mi. Rpt. of A–B Classic of Acupuncture–Moxibus-
tion. Beijing: People’s Health Publishing House, 1956.
Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China. Vols. I,
II, and IV.6. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1956 and 2000.
Rpt. of Variorum of Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon: Plain
Questions and Miraculous Pivot. Shanghai: Shanghai
Health Publishing House, 1957.
Wang, Jiusi. Rpt. of Variorum of Classic of Questioning.
Beijing: People’s Health Publishing House, 1956.
Wang, Shuhe. Rpt. of Classic of Sphygmology. Beijing:
Commercial Press, 1955.
Medicine in China: Forensic Medicine
C AI J INGFENG
Forensic medicine refers to that part of medical science
pertaining to legal and political affairs. In order to
provide materials and evidence for trying and investi-
gating cases, the discipline of forensic medicine deals
with the issues of reconnoitering the scene, surveying
the cadaver, and studying the material evidence,
poisonous substances, and other relevant items.
Chinese medico-jurisprudence makes its appearance
in the Warring States period (475–221 BCE). Li Ji
(Record of Rituals) and Lüshi Chun Qiu (Master Lü's
Spring and Autumn Annals) both mention “investigat-
ing the wounds and trauma, inspecting and analyzing
cases, reconnoitering and judging, and making deci-
sions on lawsuits with justice.” In 1975, some bamboo
slips, later entitled “Qin Slips from Yunmeng,” were
unearthed from Yunmeng, Hubei Province in China.
Within the slips, legal articles of the Qin Dynasty
(221–207 BCE) and criminal cases were recorded.
About 7 of the 22 cases involved forensic medical
jurisprudence, in which killing, hanging to death,
chopped-off heads, abortion due to trauma, and leprosy
are included with records from the scene. Foot, hand,
and knee prints, as well as blood and stools are
mentioned. Circumstantial descriptions are given on
the differentiation between homicide and suicide by
hanging. All these demonstrate that achievements in
legal medicine appeared as early as two to three
thousand years ago (Jia, 1980).
The earliest extant Chinese feudal code, Tang Lü
(Law of the Tang Dynasty) was promulgated in
653 AD. This stipulates that when investigating fake
illness, feigned death and injuries, false or incorrect
reports will result in punishment in a grade next to that
given to the swindler. For victims of illness, death, or
injuries, a fake report would be given punishment equal
to that of the sufferers themselves. Issues pertaining to
autopsies of legal medical cases, including the severity
of injury, fake illness, self-mutilation, administering
abortion, disability, age, and critical diseases are also
mentioned (Jia, 1984).
Medical jurisprudence developed a step forward in
the Song Dynasty (960–1279). First, the officials
responsible for the investigation of cases are stipulated
in writing, saying “for examining cadavers Canjun
(Adjuvant) at the provincial level and Xian Wei (district
defendant) at the county level are responsible. In case
Xianwei is absent, officials of Bu (appointee), Cheng
(aide), and Jian (directorate) will be responsible in that
order. The county governor himself should be respon-
sible when all these staff members are absent.”
Regulations for responsibility and dereliction of duty,
such as when those officials in charge are inaccessible,
when there is a delayed presence at the scene, or when
the wrong decision for the cause of death is made are
also stipulated. Gemu (Pattern Catalog), a compulsory
regulation for the examiner, is mandated to avoid
malpractice; this is claimed to be an important
achievement in this field. This rigorous system for
examination offers a firm basis for the advent of the
prominent monograph on legal medicine, Xi yuan ji lu
(Collected Records of Washing Away the Wrong Cases)
and other similar works. Prior to these monographs,
other works on legal medicine made their appearance,
including Nei shu lu (Record of Forgiveness) and Jian
yan fa (Method for Examination), which were unfortu-
nately all lost. Xi yuan ji lu is an epitome of the
achievement in the discipline of Chinese medical
jurisprudence. Its merits include records on (Song,
1936 Rpi).
. The occurrence and distribution of cadaver speckle
. Conditions influencing the advent of putrefaction
. The relationship between the cadaver manifestations
and the duration after its death
. Types of rope used for hanging
. The features of strangulation and how to differentiate
those from self-hanging for suicide
. The difference between drowning and suffocation by
compressing someone's nose and mouth
. The difference between fractures before and after
death
. The determination of fatal wounds and
. Various methods for determining different causes of
death

During the Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368), a formal
pattern for examination of Confucian officials was
announced. This is entitled Jie an shi (Pattern for
Winding Up a Case). It deals with issues relating to
medical jurisprudence, including examination of the
cadaver, biopsies for wounds and illnesses, and
material evidence. This monograph is the first to
combine the three integral portions of medical
jurisprudence into a whole.
The Chinese made a significant contribution to
legal medicine. Important Chinese monographs on legal
medicine including Xi yuan ji lu ping yuan lu
(Reassuring the Wrong Cases) and Wu yuan lu (Free
of Wrong Cases) were translated into many foreign
languages, including Korean, Japanese, French,
German, Dutch, and English (Jia, 1984).
After 1911, performing autopsies became legal.
When procurators and police officers are unable to
ascertain the causes of death with a cadaver, an autopsy
is performed by a medical practitioner rather than
by the old-style Wu Zuo (cadaver examiner). This
procedure is rigorously regulated.
The first Department of Forensic Medicine was
established in the Medical College of Peiping Univer-
sity in 1930, while the First Institute of Forensic
Medicine was established in Shanghai in 1932, and a
Medical Jurisprudence Monthly was first published
in China in 1934. A wealth of forensic medicine
professionals has been cultivated, in order to increase
public security and justice (Jia, 1984).
References
Jia, Jingtao. The Examination System in Ancient China.
Studies on Science of Law 6 (1980): 59–63.
Jia, Jingtao. The History of Forensic Medicine in Ancient
China. Beijing: Mass Press, 1984.
Song, Ci. Washing Away of Wrong Cases (Reprint).
Shanghai: The Commercial Press, 1936.
Medicine in India: Āyurveda
G UY M AZARS
Āyurveda or ‘the knowledge (veda) for longevity
(āyus)’ is an ancient medical system whose main
theories were already fixed more than 2,000 years ago.
It has roots in the Veda, especially the Atharvaveda
(Mazars 1991; Zysk 1996), and the conceptions of the
ancient ayurvedic physicians have played a great role in
the general culture of India and have spread every-
where in Asian countries. With Buddhism, Āyurveda
travelled to Sri Lanka, Nepal, Tibet, Central Asia and as
Medicine in India: Āyurveda 1535
far as Japan, and it reached Indonesia with the Hindu
culture and civilization (Filliozat 1934).
The legends related by the ancient Sanskrit medical
texts make of this system a revealed ‘science’, annexed
to the Veda sometimes as an ‘annexed member’
.
(upānga) of the Atharvaveda, sometimes as a ‘sub-
veda’ (upaveda) of the R. gveda. Created by Brahman
and transmitted to men by the successive interventions
of Prajāpati, the Aśvins and Indra, this science is
theoretically divided into eight branches:
1. General surgery (śalya)
2. Surgery of the head and the neck (śālākya)
3. Internal medicine (kāyacikitsā)
4. Toxicology (agadatantra)
5. Demonology (bhūtavidyā)
6. Obstetrics and paediatrics (kaumārabhr.tya)
7. Tonic medicine (rasāyana)
8. Aphrodisiacs (vājīkaran.a)
In fact, very few ancient texts follow this division
which has been particularly in vogue among more
recent authors. As regards their content, it represents in
reality the fruit of the activity of medical observation
and speculation in the course of the seven or eight
centuries which preceded the Christian era. Unfortu-
nately the documents going back to this period that are
properly medical have disappeared, and they have been
supplanted by more recent texts.
M
Source Texts
The classical doctrine of Āyurveda is already ex-
pounded in two famous treatises dating from the
beginning of the Christian era, the Carakasam . hitā
or ‘Caraka’s Compendium’ (Sharma 1981–1994)
and the Suśrutasam . hitā or ‘Suśruta’s Compendium’
(Bhisagratna 1963), which are the oldest Sanskrit
medical texts that have come down to us (Wujastyk
1998). Although these two works agree remarkably in
their general teachings, they are too different for us
to suppose that one may be an imitation of the other.
But they manifestly rely on the same older doctrinal
heritage. These two texts were the object, from a period
even earlier than the tenth century, of very elaborate
commentaries whose purpose was to clarify and add
precision to their contents (Filliozat 1964).
.
Later texts of great importance include the As.t. ān
gahr.dayasam. hitā of Vāgbhat.a (ca. AD 600), the
Mādhavanidāna of Mādhavakara (ca. AD 700), the
. .
Śārngadharasam . hitā of Śārngadhara (thirteenth or
fourteenth century) (Murthy 1984) and the Bhāvapra-
kaśa of Bhāvamiśra (sixteenth century). Vāgbhat.a is
the most celebrated author after Caraka and Suśruta
(Hilgenberg and Kirfel 1941). His identity has been
the subject of unending discussion, and Indian critics
hold that there was an ‘elder Vāgbhat.a’ in addition
1536 Medicine in India: Āyurveda
to ‘Vāgbhat.a’, grandson of the former and son of
Sim. hagupta. In the Mādhavanidāna or ‘Aetiology
According to Mādhava’, the author treats causes and
symptoms of different diseases, by taking up in a
systematic manner the data of Caraka, Suśruta and
Vāgbhat.a (Meulenbeld 1974; Murthy 1993). The
Mādhavanidāna was the object of numerous commen-
taries, which proves that the treatise achieved con-
siderable fame. Of considerable interest is the
. .
Śārngadharasam . hitā. Śārngadhara is the first author
to discuss several new elements, including diagnosis by
pulse (Murthy 1984). He also gives for the first time
detailed information on many previously undocument-
ed medical procedures, especially regarding the
preparation of remedies. In fact, the main subject of
the work is pharmaceutics (Sharma 1979). A whole
section deals with pharmaceutical forms, giving
exemplary formulations under each category, and
adding new drugs and new techniques. Many recipes
.
from Śārngadhara’s Compendium are still in use. There
are also divergences between the nosological system
of the Mādhavanidāna and the nosology described
.
in the Śārngadharasam . hitā. New names of diseases
are mentioned in the texts. Syphilis is described for the
. Ayurvedic View of the Body
first time, under the name of phirangaroga, in the
Bhāvaprakāśa of Bhāvamiśra (sixteenth century).
Alongside the great classical treatises and their com-
mentaries there exists an abundant medical literature that
comprises other general texts, specialised manuals and
repertories of materia medica (Mazars 1995b).
Philosophical Foundations of Āyurveda
The conceptual edifice of Āyurveda rests on ideas
which are those of the Sām . khya philosophy, a system of
thought having as its basis the analysis and classifica-
tion of the constituents (tattva) of the world. It is
not known in fact which of the two systems influenced
the other. Some authors consider that ayurvedic
doctrines are older than Sām . khya whose basic text is
the Sām . khyakārikā or ‘Stanzas of Sām . khya’ (fourth
century?). However that may be, according to ayurve-
dic treatises as well as according to Sām . khya, the
human body is composed of the same basic elements
(bhūta) that constitute the universe: earth (pr.thivī), water
(ap), fire (tejas), air (vāyu) and void (ākāśa), repre-
sented, respectively, by the solid parts, the liquids, the
body heat, the breath and the emptiness of the hollow
organs (Filliozat 1964). The combinations of the five
basic elements form the differentiated substances of the
body, the dhātu, seven in number: chyle or nutrient fluid
(rasa), blood (rakta), flesh (mām . sa), fat (medas), bone
(asthi), marrow (majja) and semen (śukra).
As it is described in the great treatises of Caraka and
Suśruta, ayurvedic medicine distinguishes itself explic-
itly from empiricism, magic and religion. For, the
conditions for the validity of the observations and
reasoning which are at the root of diagnosis, prognosis
and treatment interested the ayurvedic circles very
early. Thus, the Carakasam . hitā contains a teaching of
logic intended to guide the future physician in his
reasoning. Long passages and allusions appearing in
various parts of the treatise constitute the exposition of
this logic. The most systematic passages are found in
Chaps. IV and VIII of the section of the Carakasam . hitā
entitled Vimānasthāna. This logic, allied to the classical
Indian logic, the Nyāya, acknowledges three methods
of judgement (pramān.a): the teaching of those who are
accepted to be an authority (āptopadeśa), observation
(pratyaks.a) and inference (anumāna) (Mazars 1995b).
There has been much discussion concerning the
relationship between Āyurveda and the philosophical
system of Vaiśes.ika, which has as its object the study of
the special characteristics of things, their viśes.a. The
Vaiśes.ikasūtra, which constitutes the reference text of
this school, dates from the early centuries of the
Christian era, but its contents seem to show older
interpolations.
The anatomical nomenclature of Āyurveda is rich, but
the notions covered by them are fairly rudimentary,
especially as regards visceral anatomy. However, the
value of opening corpses was known and the
Suśrutasam . hitā (Śārīrasthāna, V, 49–56) even de-
scribes a procedure of dissection closely resembling
the procedure of hydrotomy suggested by Lacauchie in
the nineteenth century (Lacauchie 1853). As the con-
ceptions of the brahmanical moral code were opposed to
true methodical dissections of well-preserved cadavers
(Zysk 1983), anatomical knowledge remained scanty.
Hence, errors and lacunae are numerous in the lists of
organs furnished by the ancient medical texts. Osteology
is fairly important in Indian anatomy (Hoernle 1907),
but it holds out little interest as regards the constitution
of the medical doctrines.
The hollow organs or ‘receptacles’ were better
known. The stomach is called the ‘receptacle of the
uncooked’ while the intestines are the ‘receptacle of
the cooked’. The gall bladder is the ‘receptacle of the
bile’, the bladder that of the urine and the uterus that
of the embryo. In fact, among the organs, the best
described are those on which surgical operations were
performed: the rectum, the uterus and the bladder.
Today limited to minor operations, such as bone setting
and to reductions of dislocations and fractures, ayurve-
dic surgery was once probably the most remarkable in
Euro-Asiatic antiquity. The Suśrutasam . hitā mention
various operating techniques (incision, excision, scari-
fication, puncturing, catheterisation, extraction, drain-
ing and stitching of wounds) as well as instruments and

accessories. The Suśrutasam . hitā also describes surgical
operations which reveal the great daring of the surgeons
of that period: the lowering of cataracts with a needle,
grafts for repairing the nose and the earlobe, perineal
lithotomy for extracting vesical calculi, resection
of scrotal elephantiasis, Caesarean section, surgical
removal of a dead foetus from the womb.
The Carakasam . hitā and the Suśrutasam . hitā even
teach a very daring procedure for intestinal sutures
which avoids the use of non-absorbable threads whose
intolerance by the tissues had been recognised. This
procedure consists in bringing the edges of the wound
together and having them bitten by black ants. The
bodies of the ants are then cut off from the head, whose
mandibles serve as staples. It only remains thereafter
to close up the abdomen by ordinary suture. This was
the procedure in case of laparotomy for penetrating
wounds of the abdomen and for intestinal occlusion.
But instances of success must surely have been rare.
One of the commentators on the passage quoted above
observes moreover that the outcome of the operation
was very uncertain. That was no doubt why the method
is no longer taught in the later treatises.
The Indian surgeon had above all to know the
‘vulnerable regions’ (marman), injury to which is either
fatal or particularly serious. The notion of marman
goes back to a Vedic conception. The word is derived
from the root MR. , which means ‘to die’, and denotes
above all a lethal point. The classical treatises, which
carefully catalogue these bodily zones, describe them
as seats of vital energy. They list 107 of them divided
into five categories according to their location (flesh,
pipes, ligaments, bones and joints) and into five
categories according to the seriousness of the harm
resulting from injuries to them. The details given by the
texts enable us to locate them fairly easily. They are
anatomical reference points corresponding most often
to big vessel-nerve bundles, tendons or important nerve
ganglia, injuries to which are serious because of
haemorrhage, paralyses or disabilities that they cause.
Representations of the Vital Functions
In the ayurvedic system, the totality of the transforma-
tions undergone by the seven organic substances
(dhātu) is governed by the combined play and balance
of wind, fire and water, present and active in the body
in the form of three vital principles. Indeed, wind, the
essential motive force of the Universe, is also that of the
body in which it is represented by the ‘vital breath’ or
prān.a, which is localized mainly below the navel.
‘Fire’ is represented by a principle which collects in the
form of ‘bile’ or pitta, which is localized between the
heart and the navel. As regards water, it is found in
the form of kapha or śles.man, ‘phlegm’, a substance
common to all the bodily serous fluids and secretions,
Medicine in India: Āyurveda 1537
which is localized in the chest. Each of these three
principles acts by assuming five secondary forms
which correspond to the different vital functions. Their
action works towards a complex and autonomous
process of balancing which maintains the organism
alive (by the constant renewal of its constituents) and in
good health. These Indian ideas are very close to the
notion of homeostasis, already anticipated by Claude
Bernard during the nineteenth century and which
Walter Cannon (1871–1945) described as the totality
of organic processes which act to maintain the stationary
state of the organism, in its morphology and in its
internal conditions, despite external disturbances.
Of the three principles, it is the organic wind, under its
different forms, which is considered the most important
vital element. According to the Carakasam . hitā
(Sūtrasthāna, XII, 8), it ensures by its action the
ingestion, digestion and assimilation of food, the
differentiation of the organic substances and their
distribution, as well as the internal circulation of the
fluids, respiration and movements, covering in this way
a number of aspects of functioning attributed today to
the nervous systems. The seven dhātu contain a liquid
principle which makes them alive and which is named
ojas, i.e. to say ‘strength’.
Psychological Conceptions
Psychological conceptions play a fundamental role in
M
the teachings of Āyurveda (Rosu 1978). The connec-
tion between the body and the mind is asserted in the
most direct manner by the Sanskrit medical texts: ‘The
body is governed by the psyche and the psyche by
the body’ (Carakasam . hitā, Śārīrasthāna, IV, 36).
It is interesting to note that, according to Āyurveda,
the psyche represents the contribution of the previous
existences of the incorporated soul. This is entirely in
conformity with the Indian theory of karman (karma)
which has become the central dogma of Hinduism. The
word karman, derived from the root KR. , ‘to do’,
means ‘action’, but denotes also the results of the good
and bad actions in the form of merit or demerit, the
inexorable consequence of acts accomplished in
previous lives. By affecting the sūks.maśarīra or ‘subtle
body’, or in other words the psychic individual, the
‘Self ’ (ātman), the permanent and unconscious sub-
stratum of the human being, karman obliges him
indefinitely to undergo a new birth in a human or other
form, determined by the quality of his past acts.
The observation of the relationship between the body
and the mind has led Indian physicians to notions of
personal temperament and physiognomony. Ayurvedic
biotypology is based on two criteria, one constitutive
and the other psychological. The first typology
describes three kinds of temperaments based on the
predominance of one of the three vital principles: the
1538 Medicine in India: Āyurveda
‘windy’, the ‘bilious’, the ‘phlegmatic’. The second
typological system of Āyurveda categorises the
individuals according to the properties (gun.a) of the
mind. The ideal standard of behaviour is that which
corresponds to a predominance of sattva, ‘purity’,
according to the Sām. khya philosophy.
Diseases and Pathology
According to Āyurveda, diseases (roga, vyādhi) are
of two kinds, exogenous and endogenous (Sharma
1992). The former are caused by damage from outside
(blows, injuries, bites, falls, burns, etc.). All the others
represent an
imbalance of the dhātu’ (dhātuvais.amya), or in
other words disturbances in the normal balance
of the elements which constitute the substance of
the body and which animate it. ‘Wind, bile and
phlegm, in the normal state, enable a man to
have a long life, with his faculties intact, endowed
with vigour, good appearance, and health… But, if
they become abnormal, they lead him to great
adversity…’ (Carakasam . hitā, Sūtrasthāna, XII, 14).
That is why this triad of vital elements has been given
the name of tridos.a, the ‘three vitiating factors’.
The conditions of perturbation of their functions are
complex in most cases. The alteration of just one of
these elements or just one of its secondary forms can
unleash a disease by virtue of the disturbances resulting in
the functioning of the others. Often two among them or
even all three of them are simultaneously involved, in
varying degrees, in the production of different ailments.
Hence there are a very large number of pathogenic
combinations. The perturbations of ‘wind’, ‘bile’ and
‘phlegm’ can in their turn affect the dhātu, the joints or
the vascular system. The elements, the tissues and the
organs interact, and imbalance of the ones leads to
imbalance of the others. Some parallels have often been
drawn between ayurvedic ideas and some of the data from
Greek medicine. The text Airs of the Hippocratic
Collection describes a pathology by the association of
blood and ‘wind’, which brings to mind the theory of the
Suśrutasam . hitā relating to the pathogenic role of ‘wind–
blood’. Furthermore, there is a remarkable analogy
between the doctrine of the tridos.a and a theory described
by Plato at the end of his Timaeus (Filliozat 1964).
The perturbations in the functions of wind, bile and
phlegm are themselves related to multiple causes called
nidāna which are looked for mainly in the behaviour of
the patient and his food, having regard to external
circumstances. Dietary deviations are often criticised.
Nosology is highly developed. It categorises the
diseases sometimes according to their supposed origin
and sometimes according to the nature of their
symptoms. We also find them divided in another way,
according to whether they affect the chyle, the blood,
the flesh, the fat, the bones, the marrow or the semen.
Diagnosis and Prognosis
To identify an ailment, to know its stage of develop-
ment as well as the part which should be ascribed to
each dos.a in its production, the ayurvedic practitioner
must undertake a minute examination not only of the
body of the patient, but also of his mental state. The
methods of examination must bring into play all five
senses.
The practice of the examination of the pulse,
common today in ayurvedic medicine, does not seem
to have appeared before the twelfth century. The idea of
examining the pulse might have been borrowed from
China, but the technique attested in India is different
and what one expects to learn out of this examination is
not what the Chinese physicians look for. Indeed, by
taking the pulse the Indian physician claims to
recognise the disturbances in the equilibrium of the
three vital principles, ‘wind’, ‘bile’ and ‘phlegm’ and in
this way he diagnoses all the ailments. The interpreta-
tion of the various pulses is connected therefore to the
ayurvedic theory of the tridos.a (Kutumbiah 1967).
The palpation is done by bringing the tips of the
index finger, the middle finger and the ring finger close
to each other and applying them on the radial artery of
the right wrist for men, and the left wrist for women.
The texts distinguish several types of pulse according
to the amplitude of the pulsation (strong, weak or very
weak pulse), the frequency (regular, rapid or slow
pulse) and the temperature (hot or cold pulse), whose
variations are presumed to reflect the activities of the
three dos.a.
Questioning the patient and his family circle
complements the various examinations. The purpose
of this questioning is not only for the physician to gain
information about the circumstances in which the first
symptoms appeared and the development of the
ailment, but also about the personality of the patient,
his activities, his food and his appetite, having regard to
the season, the climate and, of course, the psychologi-
cal context in which the sickness began, for Āyurveda
cares for the whole human being, both his soul and
body. According to these ideas, each patient should be
treated holistically. Today, however, it is rare to find
ayurvedic practitioners who will prepare remedies
specific to particular patients. The Carakasam . hitā
indicates that the patient should also be questioned
about his dreams.
In ancient times, the establishment of the prognosis
concerning the curability or the incurability of a disease
depended more often on the divining art than on
medical science. Thus, one claimed to foretell the
outcome of a disease according to the language, the

clothes and the attitude of the messenger who came to
fetch the doctor, or else according to the direction of
the wind blowing at his arrival, or else according to the
dreams of the patient. The anomalies that may be
noticed in the sensations of the patient were generally
regarded as bad signs. Other fatal indications could be
drawn from the change in his complexion.
Preventive Medicine
Of all the ancient medicines, it is probably ayurvedic
medicine which, from its origins, has accorded the
greatest importance to hygiene, to diet, to physical
exercises and to massage, both as means of prevention
and as curative methods. The rules of hygiene and of
diet were already extremely numerous and elaborate in
the treatises of Caraka and Suśruta who devote several
chapters to them. These rules take into account not only
the climate, the season and the circumstances, but also
the temperament of each individual.
In the chapters relating to prevention, the
Carakasam . hitā (Sūtrasthāna, VII, 31–34) emphasizes
the benefits of physical exercise (dehavyāyāma). It is
said there that gymnastics makes the body light,
increases its capacity for work, diminishes the dos.a
and stimulates the ‘digestive fire’. But it must be
practised with moderation.
The oldest Sanskrit texts lay stress on the importance
of a well-balanced diet, both from the quantitative and
the qualitative points of view. According to the
Carakasam . hitā, the quantity of food depends on the
capacity of digestion (agnibala, literally ‘strength of
the fire’), so much so that even foods considered as
very easy to digest must not be consumed in excessive
quantities. The medical texts systematically enumerate
all varieties of edible products indicating their different
properties, according to the temperament, behaviour
and state of health of each individual, having regard
also to the season, the time of the day, the quality and
the quantity of the food taken. Thus, some foods
recommended for cold and rainy weathers are strongly
inadvisable during summer; a drink that is safe for a
healthy individual carries the risk of complicating an
already morbid condition, etc.
Āyurveda emphasizes also the benefits of tonics and
stimulants, the rasāyana, and of aphrodisiacs, the
vājīkaran.a. The vājīkaran.a are believed to increase the
strength of those who are weakened and whose virility
is low. These are most often preparations based on
sesame, broad beans (Phaseolus radiatus L.), sweet
potatoes (Ipomea digitata L.), sugarcane juice, long
pepper (Piper longum L.), emblic myrobalan and milk,
in combination with the testicles of goats, buffaloes or
donkeys. The roots, bark, buds and fruits of the aśvatha
tree (Ficus religiosa L.) are also used. As regards the
rasāyana, they are elixirs which are expected to confer
Medicine in India: Āyurveda 1539
long life, health and youth. The Carakasam . hitā gives
very detailed instructions for their preparation. One
of the most famous is the Cyavana Prāśa in the
compounding of which more than 30 ingredients figure.
The choice of a therapy depends not only on the
disease diagnosed, but also on the causes which are
attributed to it in relation to the excessive activity or
improper functioning of the three vital principles (wind,
bile and phlegm), the temperament and the environ-
ment of the patient. Ayurvedic treatments are therefore
individualised and they give great importance to
prescriptions of diet and hygiene.
‘Pañcakarma’ Therapy
Pañcakarma therapy is considered the method of
treatment par excellence for restoring the normal
balance of the three vital principles. Under this
name are grouped ‘five procedures’ ( pañcakarman):
the administration of emetics (vamana), purgatives
(virecana), enemas (basti), errhines (nasya) and
bloodletting (raktamoks.ana).
Vamana consists in orally evacuating the dos.a in
excess by prescribing emetics in cases of ailments
attributed to disorders of the ‘phlegm’. They are
contraindicated in the case of consumptive disease, in
case of weakness and for children, the aged and
pregnant women.
Purgatives are administered for eliminating by the
M
lower tract the impurities accumulated in the intestines.
Purging is indicated in the case of diseases that result
from an imbalance of the ‘bile’: fever, skin disease,
digestive disorders, urinary disorders, eye diseases, etc.
It is contraindicated for children and old people, as well
as for pregnant women. Enemas are intended to purify
the organism. The process owes its name to the bladder
(basti) used for introducing various medicinal prepara-
tions into the body. Rectal injections are especially
indicated in case of fever, diarrhoea, constipation, colic
and flatulence.
Āyurveda recommends taking medicinal prepara-
tions through the nose (nasya) to rid the head and the
neck of the problems which are located there. The
prescriptions are powders and nasal drops whose
choice, time of administration and dosage depend both
on the condition diagnosed and the vital principle
(wind, bile or phlegm) involved in its production.
Bloodletting is for ridding the organism of ‘polluted’
blood and for combating in this way various diseases
for which blood is thought to be the seat, or the source,
in particular diseases of the skin. Anaemia, pregnancy,
fatigue and old age constitute the major contraindica-
tions. Bloodletting can be carried out by means of
lancets or by the application of leeches.
Besides these five ‘principal measures’ (pradhānakar-
man), pañcakarma therapy also includes preliminary
1540 Medicine in India: Āyurveda
measures (pūrvakarman). Patients are prepared by being
oiled and sweated.
Drugs of Natural Origin
Most of the drugs recommended by Āyurveda are
plant-based. In the course of the centuries, ayurvedic
medicine has used more than 3,000 plant species of
which a good thousand still enter, in various forms, into
the composition of the remedies prescribed today. One
notes also the use of a certain number of substances of
animal or mineral origin. Among the animal products
figure foods of animal origin, meats, fats, milks and
derivatives, as well as blood, bones, nails and horns.
The medical texts speak highly also of the beneficial
effects of human urine and that of different animals.
Goat’s urine, for example, is particularly recommended
in cases of cough, breathlessness, icterus, anaemia or
haemorrhoids. Horse’s urine, pungent, caustic and warm,
is especially indicated in cases of perturbations of wind or
phlegm. As regards human urine, it has been used in
salves for treating certain eye affections. The mineral
products of the ayurvedic pharmacopoeia comprise
notably bitumen, arsenic, copper sulphate, gold, silver,
lead and iron. The last mentioned was used very early, in
the form of powder, in the treatment of anaemias.
All these natural substances have contributed to the
manufacture of thousands of remedies often involving
very complex formulas. This complexity of the
compositions is explained simultaneously by ayurvedic
pathology, by the complexity of the cases to be treated
and by the concern for combining the different
ingredients in such a way as to counterbalance, increase
or prolong the effects of some by the properties of the
others.
The forms of drug delivery are varied: powders,
infusions, decoctions, macerations, electuaries, pills,
liniments or ointments. Apart from aqueous prepara-
tions, the usual vehicle is oil or clarified butter (ghr.ta or
ghee), but milk and honey are also used. As regards the
methods of administration of these remedies, they
depend on the nature of the medicine and/or the
location of the disease. A certain number of prepara-
tions are administrated orally, through the nose or
through the rectum (enemas, suppositories). Others are
reserved for external use.
In order to explain the properties of the different
substances and their effects on the organism, Indian
physicians of antiquity developed theories which apply
as much to food as to plants and to the substances of
animal or mineral origin in the pharmacopoeia. For that
reason they were very early led to establish correspon-
dences between the vital principles and the simplest
perceptible properties of these substances such as their
consistency, their odour, their colour and above all their
savour (Meulenbeld 1987; Mazars 1995a).
According to Āyurveda, there are six basic savours:
sweet, sour, salt, pungent, bitter and astringent. For a
long time modern physiology only recognised four of
them (sweet, sour, salt and bitter), but no one ever
thought of verifying their primary character experi-
mentally. In fact we know today that there is no basic
savour. Ayurvedic medicine teaches that substances
with a sweet, sour or salt savour calm the wind but
irritate the phlegm. On the contrary, those which are
pungent, bitter or astringent combat the harmful effects
of the phlegm but excite the wind. As regards the
activity of the bile, it is reduced by sweet, bitter or
astringent substances and increased by sour, salt or
pungent substances.
Of the six savours distinguished by Āyurveda, the
sweet savour appears to be most important, for it has
been thought to contribute to long life. But an excess of
remedies or foods with sweet savour, by perturbing the
‘phlegm’, provokes obesity, promotes laziness, weak-
ens the power of digestion and leads to all kinds of
diseases.
Observing that some foods and remedies do not
provoke the effects proclaimed by the theory of savours,
the theoreticians of Āyurveda sought other explana-
tions to account for the properties of all the substances.
They were thus led to establish for each substance:
1. Its ‘post-digestive’ [vipāka, literally ‘after cooking’
(by the ‘digestive fire’)] effect, which flows from its
savour.
2. Its ‘quality’ (gun.a). There are 20 gun.a, one
opposing the other, as follows: heavy or light, dull
or sharp, cold or hot, unctuous or not unctuous,
smooth or rough, solid or liquid, soft or hard, stable
or fluid, subtle or gross and non-slimy or slimy.
3. Its ‘potency’ (vīrya). Drugs are divided into two
categories depending upon their potency: heating or
cooling. Substances having ‘hot’ potency produce
heat in the body. On the contrary, the substances
having ‘cold’ potency have a cooling effect.
Finally, to explain the exceptions to these rules, the
notion of prabhāva or ‘specific action’ was developed.
These different conceptions conditioned the methods of
choice, recommendation and preparation of foods and
the medicines.
Āyurveda is the result of long medical observation,
speculation and practice, and has exerted a great
influence far beyond the frontiers of the Indian world.
The underlying concepts of this system relating to
health and disease are not devoid of interest. The
examination of the data collected in the earliest Sanskrit
medical texts shows that the physicians of ancient India
visualised living beings in a way that we might qualify
today as systemic. Humans (as well as animals) are
considered an open system according to a concept
fairly close to that developed by Ludwig von

Bertalanffy (1901–1972), a system exchanging matter,
energy and information continually with its environ-
ment (von Bertalanffy 1968). Ayurvedic medical
practice is also marked by systemic thought. Its overall
objective is to maintain the normal balance of the vital
principles responsible for the proper functioning of the
organism or to re-establish this balance when it is
disrupted. Thus, Āyurveda appears as a system which
gives greater weight to prevention than to treatment,
giving great importance to hygiene, food and environ-
ment whose decisive role in triggering certain diseases
is being discovered today.
See also: ▶Nyāya, ▶Medicine in China
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Filliozat, J. La médecine indienne et l’expansion bouddhique
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---. The Classical Doctrine of Indian Medicine. Its Origins
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m. hitā, ein altindisches Lehrbuch der Heilkunde. Aus dem
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kungen und Indices. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1941.
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I, Osteology or the Bones of the Human Body. Oxford:
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des médecines naturelles, Phytothérapie–Aromathérapie.
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and D. Wujastyk. Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 1987. 1–17.
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Chowkhamba Orientalia, 1984 (Jaikrishnadas Ayurveda
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Medicine in Islam M
H USAIN F. N AGAMIA
Preservation of life is mandated by the following verse
of the Qur˒ān: “The saving of one life is as if one has
saved humanity.”
From the earliest times in the history of Islam,
medicine has played a vital role. The importance of
seeking treatment was emphasized by the Prophet
himself in his sayings, which are known as the H.adīth:
“Allah never created a disease for which he did not
create a cure. So seek treatment.” “There is a cure for
every malady (except old age). If the right treatment is
administered, Allah willing the malady is cured.”
All the religious scholars agree that a medical doctor
is ordained to find a cure for a disease and if one is not
found, he should continue to do research until it is
found. Thus in Islam disease is not looked upon as a
curse from God to be endured and suffered but as an
affliction for which a cure has to be sought and
administered, with patience and perseverance.
Ethics of Medicine in Islam: The Physician
and the Patient
century after Hijra or the beginning of the Islamic
1542 Medicine in Islam
calendar1), Islamic medical ethical standards of prac-
tice were established set, and the relationship between a
physician and patient was defined.
The physician was always held to the highest
professional standards and ethics in treating his patient.
One of the earliest treatises written on medical ethics
was Adab al-t. abīb (Practical Ethics of the Physician)
by Ish.āq Ibn Ali al-Ruhāwī, a ninth century physician
practicing under the Islamic Caliphate. In this philo-
sophical treatise Ruhāwī examines not only the
relationships between a patient and a physician, but
also a physician’s personal standards of behaviour,
conduct of daily activities, morality and even his
relationship with God. A physician was expected not
only to perform to the best of his capacity in treating his
patient, but also to be a model citizen in his society.
In Islam certain rules have to be observed when
administering treatment (Mohammed 1980). With
advances in medical sciences the ethics of a particular
treatment have to be examined in light of Islamic tenets
and beliefs the Shariah.
History of Medicine in Islam
Medicine as a science and art was cultivated during the
development of the Islamic civilization (Hamarneh
1983). The advancements made were limited only by
the development in the associated fields of physics,
mathematics, chemistry, pharmacology, pharmacy, and
philosophy. The Muslims gathered material together
from extant sources added their own observations and
compiled it into encyclopaedic works (Savage-Smith
1994). Medical knowledge disseminated to all corners
of the expanding Islamic empire.
The Early Era of Islamic Medicine and the School
of Medicine at Jundishapur
Jundishapur or “Gondeshapur” was a city in Khuzistan
founded by Shāpūr I (241–272 CE). In present day
western Iran the site is marked by the ruins of Shahbad
near the city of Ahwaz (Seyyed 1976). The town was
taken by Muslims during the caliphate of Hadrat Umar.
At this time it already had a well-established hospital
and medical school.
Many Syrians took refuge in the city when Antioch
was captured by Shāpūr I. The closing of the
Nestorian School of Edessa by Emperor Zeno in 489
CE led to the Nestorians’ fleeing and seeking refuge in
Jundishapur under the patronage of Shāpūr II. The
Greek influence was already predominant in Jundisha-
pur when the closing of the Athenian school in 529 CE
by order of the Byzantine emperor Justinian drove
1
The Islamic calendar began 16th July 622 marking the
migration of the Prophet of Islam from Mecca to Medina.
many learned Greek physicians to this town. A
university with a medical school and a hospital was
established where Greco-Syriac medicine blossomed.
To this was added medical knowledge from India
brought by the physician vizier of Anushirwan called
Burzuyah. On his return the latter brought back from
India the “Fables of Bidpai”, several Indian physicians
and details of Indian medical texts. Thus at the time of
the Islamic invasion the school of Jundishapur was well
established and had become renowned as a medical
centre of Greek, Syriac and Indian learning. After the
advent of Islamic rule the university continued to
thrive.
It is likely that the medical teaching at Jundishapur
was modeled after the teaching at Alexandria with
some influence from Antioch. This hospital was to
become the model on which all later Islamic medical
schools and hospitals were to be built. The School
thrived during the Ummayid caliphate and medical and
philosophical works of both Hippocrates and Galen
were translated into Syriac. These were later to be
translated into Arabic.
It was during the Abbasid Caliphate that Caliph
al-Mans.ūr, the founder of the city of Baghdad, invited
the head of the Jundishapur School to treat him. This
physician was Jurjis Bukhtīshū˓, a Christian. He treated
the Caliph successfully and was appointed to the court.
He did not stay permanently in Baghdad, returning to
Jundishapur before his death, but the migration to
Baghdad had begun. His son, Jibrīl Bukhtīshū˓,
established a practice in the city and became a
prominent physician. By the second half of the second
century after Hijra (eighth century CE) the fame of
Baghdad began to rise. Many hospitals and medical
centers were established and tremendous intellectual
activity was recorded.
Resources for the Development of Islamic
Medicine: The Bayt Al-Hikmah or “The House of
Wisdom”
Al-Ma˒mūn is usually credited with having made
the translation of the Greek sciences systematic and
institutionalized in the form of the Bayt al-Hikmah.
This institution has been variously referred to as an
academy, translation centre and library. Its principal
activity was the translation of philosophical and
scientific works from Greek/Syriac into Arabic.
Scholars have recently begun to doubt some of
the assumptions and the interpretations that have been
made about the nature and function of this institution. To
start with, no date can be established for its foundation,
so although the earliest reference to it is in the time of
Hārūn al-Rashīd, it may have existed with the
caliphs al-Mans.ūr or al-Mahdī (r. 775–785). Regarding
its function, there are references in the sources to

translation activity, but these are about work from
Persian to Arabic, and there is nothing to suggest that
there was any translation at the Bayt al-H.ikmah from
Greek into Arabic. Perhaps this can explain some of the
confusion over its function. The main reason may be that
by the time Ibn al-Nadīm was writing his biographical
history the institution had assumed legendary qualities,
which have continued to impress subsequent commen-
tators (Attewell 2002).
The most celebrated translator of Greek learning into
Arabic is H.unain ibn Is.h.āq (d. 873 or 877). Born in
Hira, H.unain was the son of an apothecary. He soon
translated the entire collection of Greek medical works,
including Galen and Hippocrates. He was more
scientific and interpreted the original text by cross-
reference, annotation and citing glossaries. His original
contributions included 10 works on ophthalmology.
He rose to the highest honor by being appointed
the director of the House of Wisdom by Caliph
al-Mutawakkil.
Yuh.annā ibn Masawayh (Mesuse senior) was an
early director of the House of Wisdom. He wrote about
gynecological problems.
The House of Wisdom had enormous effects on
Islamic science, philosophy, art, architecture, agricul-
ture and government. Some of the Islamic physicians
had available to them much of the knowledge of
ancient Greece, Syria, India and Persia and in turn they
contributed their observations and originality.
Hospitals During the Islamic Era
The idea of a hospital as an institutional place for the
caring of the sick has not been recorded in antiquity.
There were sanatoria and “travel lodges” that were
attached to temples where priests attended to the sick.
Most of the therapy in these sanatoria consisted of
prayers and sacrifices to the gods of healing.
A large number of hospitals were developed during
the Islamic era. They were called bīmāristān. The early
Caliphs adopted the idea of a hospital as a place where
the sick could get attention. The first hospital is
credited to Caliph al-Walid I (86–96 AH 705–715 CE).
At first it was considered no more than a leprosarium
because it allowed the segregation of lepers from
others. It did have on staff “salaried doctors” to attend
the sick.
The first true Islamic hospital was built during
the reign of Caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd (170–193 AH
786–809 CE). Having heard of the famous medical
institution at Jundishapur the Caliph invited the son of
the chief physician, Jibrīl Bukhtīshū˓ to come to
Baghdad and head the new bīmāristān. It rapidly
achieved fame and led to the development of other
hospitals in Baghdad. It is claimed but not established
that one of these, the “Audidi” hospital was built under
Medicine in Islam 1543
the instructions of the Islamic physician al-Rāzī. At its
inception it had 24 physicians on staff, including
specialists such as physiologists, oculists, surgeons and
bonesetters. When Djubair visited Baghdad in 580 AH/
1184 CE he recorded that this hospital was “like a great
castle” with water supplied from the river Tigris and all
the appurtenances of royal palaces.
One of the largest hospitals ever built in the Islamic
Empire was the Mansūri Hospital in Cairo. It was
completed in 1248 CE. It had a total capacity of 8,000
people. The annual income from endowments alone
was one million dirhams. Irrespective of race, religion
and creed or citizenship (as specifically stated in the
waqf documents, see below) nobody was ever turned
away. There was no limit to the time the patient was
treated as an inpatient. There were separate wards for men
and women, and medicine, surgery. Fevers and eye
diseases also had separate wards. It had its own pharmacy,
library and lecture halls. It had a mosque for Muslim
patients as well as a chapel for Christian patients.
The waqf (an inalienable religious endowment in
Islam) specifically stated:
The hospital shall keep all patients, men and
women until they are completely recovered. All
costs are to be borne by the hospital whether the
people come from afar or near, whether they are
residents or foreigners, strong or weak, low or high,
rich or poor, employed or unemployed, blind or M
sighted, physically or mentally ill, learned or
illiterate. There are no conditions of consideration
and payment; none is objected to or even indirectly
hinted at for non-payment… (Ahmad 1939).
Some of the hospitals, especially those established
by princes, rulers and viziers, were luxurious; some
were actual palaces that had been converted to
hospitals. The annual income of Jibrīl Bukhtīshū˓ was
4.9 million dirhams (Rahman 1989). His son, also a
doctor, lived in a house in Baghdad that was air-
conditioned by ice in summer and heated by charcoal in
winter. For comparison, a resident, who was supposed
to be on duty for two days and two nights a week, was
paid 300 dirhams a month.
The Great Physicians of Islamic Medicine
The era of Islamic medicine produced some very
famous and notable physicians. These physicians were
not only responsible for getting all the existing
information on medicine together, but also for adding
to this knowledge by their own observations, experi-
mentation and skills. Many of them were skilled in
medical writing and produced encyclopaedic works
which became standard texts and reference works for
centuries. Some of these tenets form the basis of
instruction of students of t. ibb and h.ikmah, traditional
1544 Medicine in Islam
Islamic medicine still practised in India and Pakistan
today, under the name ‘Unani or Tibbi’ medicine. For the
sake of classification, the historic periods of the Islamic
physicians can be divided into three parts (1) the period
of Islamic Renaissance: This started from the beginning
of Islamic era and ended with the end of the Abbasid
dynasty; (2) the period of Islamic Epoch: when all
sciences including medicine reached the pinnacle of
development; and (3) the period of decline: during
which the knowledge of Islamic medicine declined in
the Islamic state but was translated into European
languages and became the basis of further development
and discoveries.
The Bukhtishu Family of Physicians
The oldest in this family was Jurjis Bukhtīshū˓ who was
the Chief Physician at the Hospital in Jundishapur. He
came from a Christian family and was summoned to the
court of Caliph Ma˒mūn (148 AH/765 CE) when the
latter fell ill. It was his son Jibrīl Bukhtīshū˓ who was
later invited by Caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd to come to
Baghdad to treat him (171 AH/787 CE). He was Chief
until he died in 185 AH/801 CE.
Masawayh
Another family that migrated from Jundishapur to
Baghdad was the family of Masawayh who went at the
invitation of Caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd. One became a
famous ophthalmologist. Most famous amongst his
three sons who were physicians was Yuh.annā ibn
Masawayh (Mesue Senior). He wrote prolifically; 42
works are attributed to him. He is known for having a
sarcastic temperament but commanded great respect
because of his medical expertise.
H.unayn ibn Ish.āq
H.unayn ibn Ish.āq, who was a student of Ibn
Masawayh, became the greatest translator of Greek
and Syriac medical texts during the third century AH/
ninth century CE. He was responsible for masterly
translations of Galen, Hippocrates and Aristotle into
Arabic. He also improved the Arabic medical lexicon
giving it a rich technical medical language to express
medical terminology. He was himself a physician and
wrote two original works on ophthalmology.
Al-Rāzı̄
The most famous physician of this time and perhaps
of the entire early Islamic era is Muh.ammad
ibn Zakariyya al-Rāzī (born 251 AH/865 CE; died
312 AH/925 CE), called Rhazes by his Latinized name.
He was born in Rayy in northern Persia not far from
modern Tehran. Although not much is known about his
early life or his medical education, his fame started with
the establishment of a hospital in Baghdad of which he
was the chief. The story of how he picked the site of the
hospital when asked to select one has become one of
the classical legends of Islamic medicine. He had
pieces of meat hung in various quarters of the city and
had them examined for putrefaction and recommended
the site where the meat had decayed the least as the
most suitable site. This made him one of the first
physicians to infer indirectly that there was an element
of bacterial putrefaction in the degradation of meat, and
suggested the environmental role that contaminated air
plays in the spread of infection.
Al-Rāzī is known for numerous other original
contributions to the art and science of medicine. He
described the differences between smallpox and chick-
enpox and gave an in depth description of measles. He
described allergy to roses in one of his classical cases.
The Islamic historian and scientist al-Bīrūnī listed 56
medical works of al-Rāzī, the most famous being
al-H.āwī, an encyclopaedia of medical knowledge based
on his personal observations and experiences. A Copy
preserved in the National Library of Medicine in
Bethesda Maryland is described as the third oldest
medical manuscript preserved in the world today.
Besides these and other original contributions of
which many have been published, al-Rāzi devoted a
lot of his time to teaching, bedside medicine and
attending to the royalty and court. The impact of these
publications on Islamic medicine was tremendous. His
books became an invaluable addition to the armamen-
tarium of a medical student of the time and remained
standard texts until the appearance much later of texts
by al-Majūsī (d. 994) and Ibn Sīnā, who authored such
monumental works as al-Qānūn fī l-t. ibb (The Canon of
Medicine).
Al Majusi
In the fourth century of Hijra, tenth century CE another
Islamic physician gained prominence in Baghdad.
His name was ‘Alī ibn al-‘Abbās al-Majūsī (d. 384
AH/994 CE). (Latinized Haly Abbas). He became the
director of the Adud-dawlah Hospital. Al-Majūsī
dedicated his medical work Kitāb al-Malakī (The
Royal Book) to its founder. This book is very well
systematized and organized. It is divided into two
volumes, one covering theory and the other practical
aspects. Each of these has ten chapters. The first
volume deals with historical sources, anatomy, facul-
ties, six primeval functions, classification and causation
of disease, symptoms and diagnosis, urine, sputum,
saliva and pulse as an aid to diagnosis, external or visible
manifestations of disease and internal diseases like
fever, headache, epilepsy and warning signs of death
or recovery. The second volume deals with hygiene,
diet, cosmetics, therapy with simple drugs, therapy for
fevers and diseases of organs. There is a chapter on
surgery, orthopaedics, and finally treatment by compound
medicaments.

About the second century AH/eight century CE a
great centre of knowledge learning and culture had
been developing in the western part of the Islamic
empire. This was in Spain or “Andalusia” as the Arabs
called it. Spain was invaded and conquered by the
Muslims in 93 AH/714 CE. When the Ummayad dynasty
ended in Baghdad the last of Ummayad princes
escaped to Spain where they established the Western
Caliphate. The rulers of this dynasty laid the founda-
tion for the Muslim rule of Spain that was to last for
seven centuries. During this time Cordoba, also called
“Qurtuba”, became a great centre of international
learning. A great library containing more than a million
volumes was established.
Al-Zahrawi
Perhaps the most famous physician and surgeon of the
era was Abū l-Qāsim al-Zahrāwī, known to the west as
Albucasis (318 AH/930 CE to 403 AH/1013 CE). He
gained great fame as a physician. He wrote a 30-
volume compendium called al-Tas.rīf. The initial
volumes dealt with general principles, elements and
physiology of humours and the rest dealt with
systematic treatment of diseases from head to foot.
The last volume deals with all aspects of surgery. It was
the first textbook of surgery with illustrations of
instruments. He emphasized that knowledge of anato-
my and physiology was essential prior to undertaking
any surgery:
Before practicing surgery one should gain knowl-
edge of anatomy and the function of organs so that
he will understand their shape, connections and
borders. He should become thoroughly familiar
with nerves, muscles, bones arteries and veins. If
one does not comprehend the anatomy and
physiology one can commit a mistake which will
result in the death of the patient. I have seen
someone incise into a swelling in the neck thinking
it was an abscess, when it was an aneurysm and the
patient died on the spot.
He described operations on varicose veins, reduction
of skull fractures, dental extractions, forceps delivery
for a dead foetus to mention just a few. His work raised
surgery to a high level.
Ibn Sina
However the greatest physician of the Islamic era was
Abū ˓Alī al-H.usain ibn ˓Abdallāh ibn Sīnā, Avicenna or
Ibn Sīnā. Some historians of medicine call him one of
the greatest physicians that ever lived. That is because
Ibn Sīnā was not only a physician, but also his
knowledge and wisdom extended to many other
branches of science and culture including philosophy,
metaphysics, logic and religion.
Medicine in Islam 1545
Ibn Sīnā was indeed a prodigy. At the age of 10 he
had memorized the whole Qur˒ān. By age of 16 he had
mastered all extant sciences that appealed to him
including mathematics, geometry, Islamic law, logic,
philosophy and metaphysics. By age 18 he taught
himself all there was to learn at that time in medicine.
Born in the city of Būkhārā in what is now central Asia
in the year 370 AH/980 CE, he rapidly rose in ranks
and became the vizier (prime minister) and court
physician of the Samanid ruler Prince Nuh ibn-Mansūr.
The Royal Library was opened to him and this enlarged
his knowledge. He began writing his first book at age
21. In the short span of 30 years of writing he wrote
over a 100 books of which 16 were on medicine. His
magnum opus is Qānūn fī l-t. ibb (The Canon of
Medicine). This voluminous compendium of medical
knowledge rivaled one written earlier by al-Rāzi and
al-Majūsī and indeed surpassed both of these in content
and originality. It was composed of five volumes:
general principles, simple drugs, systematic description
of diseases from head to foot, general maladies and
compound drugs. The Canon was translated into Latin
by Gerard of Cremora and Andrea Alpago and
remained the standard textbook of medicine in Louvain
and Montpellier until the seventeenth century.
Ibn Nafis
Islamic physicians not only possessed excellent M
knowledge of anatomy, but also they added some
challenging new concepts that were revolutionary to
the then understanding of anatomical concepts laid
down by the “ancients”. The example that has now
become well known is that of the discovery of the lesser
or pulmonary circulation by Ibn Naf īs (d. 687 AH/
1288 CE). The description he gave of pulmonary
circulation challenged the fundamental concept held by
Galen. In fact it suggested that there existed a pulmonary
capillary bed where the blood was “purified” before
being brought back to the heart by the pulmonary artery,
thus predating the discovery of pulmonary capillaries
long afterwards, made possible by the discovery of the
microscope by Antony van Leeuwenhoek. Al-Zahrāwī
emphasized that the knowledge of anatomy was a
prerequisite for the surgeon.
Now this is the reason why there is no skillful
operator in our day: the art of medicine is long
and it is necessary for its exponent, before he
exercises it, to be trained in anatomy as Galen has
described it, so that he may be fully acquainted
with the uses, forms, temperament of the limbs;
also how they are jointed, and how they may be
separated, that he should understand fully also the
bones, tendons and muscles, their numbers and
their attachments; and also the blood vessels both
the arteries and the veins, with their relations.
1546 Medicine in Islam
The physiological concepts embodied in Islamic
medicine were based on the Hippocratic and Galenic
concepts of elements, natures and humours. In this
theory harmony in the body prevails when all the
humours are in proper balance and it is their imbalance
that creates disease. Under this principle, disease is a
state of imbalance of humours and needs the restoration
of balance to bring the organism back to its normal
healthy state. Islamic medicine also expounds the
concept of elements and temperaments. The basic
elements are earth, fire, air and water, and each of these
is given a temperament: earth is dry and cold; water is
humid and cold; fire is hot and dry; air is humid and
hot. Each of the four essential body fluids – blood,
phlegm, yellow bile and black bile – is assigned a
respective temperament. Each dietary food, medicine
or climatic environment can thus then modify or temper
the humours of the body and it is an interplay of these
that can restore health from sickness or cause the
sickness to worsen.
It was the fundamental belief of a Muslim physician
that the organic body alone cannot manifest life, being
innate and devoid of a life force. It was the instillation
of a life force, Ruh, which gave it vibrancy and vitality
of spirit. Thus without the Ruh, no function of the body
is possible. It is the Ruh which descends from God to
mix with the anatomic and physiologic body to make a
complete human being. It is thus essential when
treating a diseased state to take the Soul or ‘Ruh’ into
consideration. Laying the foundation of Holistic
Medicine.
Pharmacy, Pharmacognosy, Materia Medica and
Therapeutics
One of the sciences that had an impetus on Islamic
medicine was the development of pharmacy and
pharmacognosy. Most Islamic physicians and scholars
studied chemistry or alchemy. This study was furthered
by the concomitant development of techniques to refine
drugs, medications and extracts by processes of distilla-
tion, sublimation and crystallization. Pharmacists became
commonplace in Islamic lands, and their proliferation
ultimately required the institution of licensing.
Pharmacological drugs were classified into simple
and compound drugs. The effects of these were detailed
and documented. The earliest Islamic works on
pharmacognosy, such as “Treatise on the Power of
Drugs, Their Beneficial and Ill Effects” and “The
Power of Simple Drugs” were written in the third and
fourth century AH/ninth century CE. Most medical
texts contained chapters on the use of both these types
of remedies. Rāzi’s al-H.āwī mentions 829 drugs.
Materia medica and texts containing compendia of
drugs and their effects appear frequently during the era
of Islamic medicine. Notable amongst these is the
contribution of Abu Bakr ibn Samghun of Cordoba, The
Comprehensive Book on Views of the Ancients as Well as
the Moderns on Simple Drugs. Ibn Juljul made a
commentary on drugs and plants described by Dios-
cordes and added a number of newer ones. Al-Zahrāwī’s
al-Tas.rīf mentioned earlier in reference to its surgical
volume also had a section on plants and drugs. The
second book of the Canon is devoted to the discussion
of simple drugs and their powers and qualities. One of
the most authoritative books on drugs was written by
al-Bīrūnī, entitled The Book on Drugs, which contains a
huge compendium of drugs, their actions and their
equivalent names in several languages.
References
Ahmad, Isa. Tarikh al-bimaristanat fi al-Islam. Dimashq:
Matbu’at Jam’iyat al-Tamaddun al-Islami, 1939.
Al-Zahrawi. Albucasis on Surgery and Instruments. English
trans. by M. S. Spink and G. L. Lewis. London: The
Wellcome Institute of the History of Medicine, 1973.
Attewell, Guy. Islamic Medicines: Perspectives on the Greek
Legacy in the History of Islamic Medical Traditions in
West Asia. Medicine Across Cultures. Ed. Helaine Selin.
Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2002. 325–50.
Gruner, Oscar Cameron. A Treatise on the Canon of Medicine
of Avicenna. 4 vols. New York: A. M. Kelly Publishers,
1970.
Hamarneh, Sami. Development of Hospitals in Islam.
Journal of History of Medicine and Medical Sciences
17 (1962): 367–73, 379–84.
---. Health Sciences in Early Islam. Ed. Munawar A. Anees.
San Antonio: Zahra Publications, 1983–1984.
Hayes, John R. The Genius of Arab Civilization – Source of
Renaissance. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1978. 166.
Levey, Martin. Medical Ethics of Medieval Islam, With
Special Reference to al-Ruhawi’s Practical Ethics of the
Physician. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society,
1967.
Mackensen, Ruth Stellhorn, et al. Four Great Libraries of
Medieval Baghdad. Library Quarterly 2 (1932): 279–99.
Mohammed, Abu Saud. The Role of the Muslim Doctor.
Journal of Islamic Medical Association 11 (1980): 8–11.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Islamic Science, an Illustrated
Study. s. l. London: World of Islam Festival Publishing
Co., 1976.
Rahman, Fazlur. Health and Medicine in the Islamic
Tradition. New York: Crossroads Publishing, 1989. 67.
Said, Hakim Mohammed. Traditional Greco-Arabic and
Modern Western Medicine: Conflict or Symbiosis. Karachi:
Hamdard National Foundation, 1975.
Sarton, George. Introduction to the History of Science.
Baltimore: The Williams and Wilkins Company, 1931.
Savage-Smith, Emilie. Islamic Culture and Medical Arts: An
Exhibit at the National Library of Medicine. Bethesda,
MA: National Library of Medicine, 1994.
Surty, Mohammed Ibrahim. Muslims’ Contributions to the
development of Hospitals. Birmingham, UK: QAF, 1996.
59–60.
Yacoub, Ahmed A. A. The Fiqh of Medicine. London: Ta Ha
Publishers, 2001.

Medicine in Japan
W ILLIAM D. J OHNSTON
When considering the Japanese history of medicine, it is
important not to project our ideas about medicine today
onto the past. Whereas modern medicine worldwide
is based on the language and methods of natural
science, the medicine of premodern Japan consisted of
many different languages and practices. Moreover, the
historical development of medicine in premodern Japan
must not be thought of as following a linear develop-
ment that inevitably ended in the adoption of Western
medicine. It is, rather, the story of theories and practices
that unfolded according to their own historical logic,
often in competition with each other and without
theoretical or practical consistency. The fact that the
Japanese did adopt Western medical ideas and practices
during the premodern period simply reflects the ways
in which some Japanese medical ideas and practices
developed.
Throughout the premodern period, which in the case
of Japan spans all of history until the mid-nineteenth
century, numerous medical theories and practices,
many of which were mutually contradictory, coexisted.
Until modern times, most people depended primarily
on folk remedies to treat their ailments. These consisted
mostly of shamanistic rituals whose remnants can be
found today in a small number of Shinto shrines and
Buddhist temples. Physicians with a textually based
theoretical training were rare in rural areas, where most
Japanese people lived as peasants or fishers. However
because few documentary sources exist on which a
history of folk medicine could be based, historians have
made the textual tradition the focus of their research.
Hence it is also necessary to focus on this textual
tradition here, but this is, of necessity, only a partial
history.
Within these limits, the history of Japanese medicine
can be divided into four periods: ancient, medieval,
early modern, and modern. The ancient period spans
from prehistory to the late twelfth century; the medieval
period reaches from the beginning of the thirteenth
century to the late sixteenth; and the early modern
period encompasses the years from the late sixteenth
until the mid nineteenth century. Because in many
respects the history of Japanese medicine during the
modern period parallels that of the Western world, this
article deals primarily with the premodern period.
Prehistoric and Ancient Medicine
Based on skeletal remains, it is clear that the pre-
historic inhabitants of the Japanese islands developed
rudimentary medical practices. Some bone fractures,
Medicine in Japan 1547
at least, were treated so that they healed cleanly. The
earliest written records, which date from the early
eighth century, recount the use of herbal remedies for
some illnesses. However the same records also reflect
the belief that most diseases were divine retribution
for offending a deity or spirit; they were treated through
exorcism, ritual ablution, and purification rituals. Some
diseases, such as leprosy and tuberculosis, were also
associated with ritual pollution, a belief which has
found currency into modern times. Because this
pollution was thought to be hereditary, these diseases
often made it difficult for the persons who had them
and members of their families to find marriage partners.
When a disease reached epidemic proportion, it was
thought to be caused by the more powerful deities that
controlled forces of nature throughout the land, deities
that the emperor or empress attempted to assuage with
national purification rituals.
It is unclear when Chinese writing first reached
Japan, but by the late fourth or early fifth century
scholars from the Korean peninsula were tutoring
members of the imperial family in the Chinese classics.
The real rise of literacy came with the Japanese adoption
of Buddhism from the sixth century; it can be surmised
that the advent of textually based medicine in Japan also
dates from this time. By the seventh century, Buddhist
monks from the continent were both practicing medicine
and training Japanese monks to become practitioners
themselves. Until the seventeenth century most trained
M
medical practitioners retained the trappings, if not
always the formal status, of Buddhist priests.
From the late seventh century the Japanese state
adopted the legal codes of Tang China. These included
provisions for government posts that specified the
employment of various medical specialists, including
internists, surgeons, acupuncturists, masseuses, exorcists,
obstetricians, dentists, and pharmacologists. Although in
China these posts were filled with scholars who passed
required examinations, in Japan they soon became
hereditary and remained so until the nineteenth century.
This did not, however, preclude the adoption of new
developments in medicine from the continent. Constant
interaction with both Korea and China, where numerous
Japanese Buddhist priests went to study, kept them
informed of changing theories and practices, although the
process of change was far slower than during more recent
times.
Medicine during the Nara (710–794) and Heian
(794–1185) periods remained the domain of court
physicians and Buddhist priests. As in premodern
Europe, internal medicine and surgery remained distinct
practices. Internists had a high level of education
and relatively high social status; surgeons, who mostly
treated skin lesions, wounds, and fractures, had com-
paratively little theoretical training and low social status.
These remained distinct until the late eighteenth century.
1548 Medicine in Japan
Internal medicine was based entirely on Chinese
texts; the first Japanese medical text did not appear
until the year 984. This was the Ishimpō (literally,
Methods at the Heart of Medicine), which was written
by the court physician Tanba Yasuyori (912–995) and
remained an important text among some schools of
medicine until the nineteenth century. This 30-volume
work contained information on internal medicine,
pharmaceuticals, preventive practices, and other topics,
and was based on over eighty Chinese texts written
during the Sui (581–617) and Tang (618–907)
dynasties.
Until the eighteenth century, anatomy envisioned the
human body as containing five organs and six viscera,
and physiology focused on their relationships with each
other and the meridians found on the surface of the
body. Visual observation of the internal organs played
little role in the classical Chinese model of the human
body, and organs including the brain, pancreas, thyroid,
and adrenal glands played no role in the treatment of
disease. Indeed, there was no word for the latter three
organs, and visual depictions of human anatomy did
not appear in the Japanese medical literature until the
fourteenth century. Rather this model was conceptual,
based on the Chinese notion of the five elements of fire,
metal, water, wood, and earth. These were, respective-
ly, associated with the heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and
spleen, and each organ was in turn associated with five
colors, tastes, and seasons, the spleen being associated
with the time of changes between seasons. Physicians
interpreted diseases as resulting from imbalances
within this system and treated them with herbal
medicines, acupuncture, moxibustion, massage, and
restrictions on diet and behavior. Yet this model did not
completely replace ideas of disease as being caused by
spirit possession, and the literature of the Heian period
abounds in examples of Buddhist priests attempting to
cure maladies through exorcism, a common practice
until modem times.
Because the diagnostic criteria and disease categories
of premodern Japan were so different from those used
today it is difficult to establish with any accuracy in
modern terms the diseases from which people suffered
at the time. Yet it is certain that the most common
epidemic diseases of premodern Japan, beginning with
the Nara and Heian periods and continuing through
the nineteenth century, were smallpox, measles,
influenza, and enteric infections. Tuberculosis, malaria,
and parasitic infections remained endemic during the
premodern period. Despite a myth of cleanliness
attributed to the Japanese, bathing and the regular
washing of clothes were not common practices, making
skin diseases common until modern times. In addition,
kitchen areas frequently were far less than sanitary, and
latrines and even graves were sometimes located close
to water sources, contaminating them.
Although most medical folk beliefs are poorly
documented, much is known concerning some popular
beliefs related to what probably was tuberculosis.
During the twelfth century, Chinese Daoist priests
thought that a disease they called zhuan shi (denshi in
Japanese), literally “transmission of the consumption
bug,” was caused by minute worms. According to
Daoist texts, this disease passed through a cycle of six
phases with turning points on certain calendar days,
when the worms metamorphosed from one phase to the
next; in the sixth phase they were thought to be highly
contagious. A popular belief in these worms took root
in Japan from the Heian period as part of the Kōshin
folk religion. They were considered a deity’s agents
that reported a person’s sins on the days of kōshin,
which occurred once every 60 days in the calendar
cycle. If a person abstained from sleep on those nights,
the worms would remain dormant; otherwise they
would divulge their host’s sins to the deity, who
punished people by causing consumption (denshi). At
first, only the Heian-period aristocracy abstained from
sleep on those nights, but the ritual spread throughout
the country and was practiced in rural villages until the
twentieth century.
Medieval Japanese Medicine
During the Kamakura period (1185–1333) warrior
culture eclipsed the culture of the imperial court, but
changes in medical theory and practice remained
slow. The hereditary posts of court physicians remained
in place, and the physicians who filled them were
sometimes dispatched to treat the leaders of the military
government in Kamakura. However these physicians
had little opportunity to keep abreast of the changes in
medicine that occurred in China, and in most of Japan
Buddhist priests dominated medical practice.
The most important medical text of the Kamakura
period was the Don'isho (which is untranslatable),
written by Fu-jiwara Shōzen (1266–1337) in 1302.
This work was significant for its visual representation
of human anatomy, the first in Japan. Like previous
Japanese medical texts, the Don ‘isho was also a
compilation of Chinese sources, except for the section
on leprosy, which was based entirely on Buddhist
thought. This reflected current Japanese ideas con-
cerning this disease. From the Heian period, leprosy
was called a karmic disease (gōbyō), the result of
sins committed in past lives. As in medieval Europe,
leprosy was common during the middle ages in Japan
and had much the same stigma; persons who developed
leprosy became outcasts, shunned by their families and
communities alike, finding succor only in the care of
Buddhist monasteries. The stigma attached to leprosy
did not change even into modern times. (The plague,
another representative disease of medieval Europe, did

not reach Japan until the late nineteenth century and
was never a significant cause of mortality.)
The Muromachi (1333–1468) and Warring States
(1468–1600) periods witnessed considerable changes
in the theory and practice of medicine. During the
Muromachi period Buddhist monks became increas-
ingly knowledgeable in Confucian thought, and were
influenced by the rise of Neo-Confucianism during the
Song dynasty (960–1279) in China. This new current
in Confucian thought emphasized the role of qi (vital
force; ki in Japanese) and li (principle; ri in Japanese) in
the order of nature, states, and individuals alike. The
ideas of Neo-Confucianism entered the mainstream of
Chinese medicine in the theories of Li Dongyuan and
Zhu Danxi, who were active during the Yuan dynasty
(1279–1368). Li and Zhu understood disease according
to interrelationships between an individual’s vital
energy, environment, and behavior. In therapeutics
they placed a new emphasis on emetics, purgatives, and
medicines that caused a person to sweat. The ideas of
Li and Zhu became influential in Japan from the early
sixteenth century, primarily through the works of
Tashiro Sanki (1465–1537), who studied medicine
for 12 years in China. They then became established in
the mainstream of Japanese medicine through the
works of Manase Dōsan (1507–1574), who had studied
under Sanki. Dōsan’s descendants and followers re-
mained highly influential, treating the warlords and
hegemons of the Warring States period. Following the
establishment of the Tokugawa bakufu in 1603 Dōsan’s
medical theories and practices became government-
sanctioned medical orthodoxy (hondō). As such they
remained at the core of some schools of medicine until
the end of the premodern period, and had virtually no
competitors until the beginning of the eighteenth century.
Dōsan and his followers had a powerful influence on
diagnostics, which they standardized. Later and com-
peting schools of medical thought only supplemented
the diagnostic procedures delineated by Dōsan, which
remained standard until the advent of Western diag-
nostics during the nineteenth century. He based diagno-
sis on a four-step method. Visual observation focused on
the patient’s skin color, weight, strength, condition of
the hair, and inspections of sputum, feces, and urine.
Aural observation included listening for responses
indicating pain when the patient was examined, for the
type of cough, and for sounds in the chest. The physician
questioned the patient concerning appetite, waste
elimination, emotional disposition, and the circum-
stances preceding the illness. Finally there came pulse
diagnosis, a technique without parallel in Western
medicine, which analyzed the strength, speed, location,
and other aspects of the pulse.
Endemic warfare during the Warring States period
stimulated new approaches to surgery, with a wide-
spread need for specialists who could treat battle
Medicine in Japan 1549
wounds. The arrival of the Westerners in East Asia
during the sixteenth century was soon followed by the
spread of firearms, whose wounds called for new forms
of treatment. This led to the adoption of Portuguese
surgical practices during the second half of the century
in what was called the Nanbanryū (Southern Barbarian
School). At this time, however, the Japanese adoption
of Western medicine remained limited to practical
measures for treating wounds, skin lesions, bone
fractures, and dislocated joints, and contemporary
European medical theory made little headway into
Japanese medicine.
Early Modern Japanese Medicine
The defeat of the last major opponents to the hegemony
of the warlord Tokugawa Ieyasu in 1600 marked the
end of the Warring States period and the beginning of
the Edo period (1600–1868), a time of peace and
gradually increasing prosperity. The seventeenth cen-
tury was a period of political, economic, and cultural
stabilization and consolidation during which medical
theories and practice changed little, dominated by the
orthodoxy of Manase Dōsan and other established
schools. A century of peace, however, ushered in a
period of intellectual and cultural ferment that began
during the last decade of the seventeenth century and
continued into the nineteenth.
During the last half of the seventeenth century,
M
Confucian scholars started to reject Neo-Confucian
interpretations of the Chinese classics and focused
instead on direct textual analysis. This trend appeared
at the same time in medicine, with a number of
physicians rejecting Song and Yuan dynasty interpreta-
tions of medical texts, emphasizing instead the direct
reading of ancient Chinese medical works. Most of the
leaders of this movement, which came to be called the
School of Ancient Medicine (Koihō), lived in Kyoto,
and included Gotō Konzan (1659–1733), Kagawa
Shūan (1683–1755), Yoshimasu Tōdō (1702–1773),
and Yamawaki Tōyō (1705–1762). Practitioners of the
School of Ancient Medicine were by no means unified
in their interpretations of either texts or phenomena, but
most did emphasize practical methods to establish
the validity of their ideas and methods. This was of
momentous importance to the changes in Japanese
medicine that followed during the rest of the premodern
period.
Yamawaki Tōyō, a physician at the imperial court,
was central to those changes. Tōyō questioned tradi-
tional Chinese interpretations of human anatomy and
attempted to replace them with a view based on a
passage in the Zhou li (Rites of Zhou), one of the early
Chinese classics, which described the body as contain-
ing nine organs. To verify his view, Tōyō conducted the
first public dissection of a human body in Japan in 1754,
1550 Medicine in Japan
and published the results in the Zōshi (Anatomical
Record) in 1759. Although Tōyō’s nine-organ theory
did not gain currency, his method of examining the body
through dissections did. Thereafter, physicians in
various parts of the country performed dissections and
advanced other anatomical theories, none of which,
however, replaced the Chinese theory of five organs and
six viscera.
In 1771 three physicians, Sugita Genpaku (1733–
1817), Maeno Ryōtaku (1723–1803), and Nakagawa
Jun'an (1739–1786), witnessed the dissection of an
executed criminal’s corpse in Edo (Tokyo). Discussing
the results afterward, they concurred that they could not
consider themselves medically qualified without a true
understanding of the structure of human anatomy, and
that such an understanding could be gained only by
translating the Dutch anatomy text which Genpaku and
Ryōtaku had brought to this dissection. In 1774 they
published the Kaitai shinsho (New Book of Anatomy),
their translation of the Ontleedkundige Tafelen, or
“Illustrated Anatomy,” by the German physician
Johann Adam Kulmus (1689–1745). This both started
the study of Dutch medicine (Ranpō) in Japan and
opened the door to European ideas by making the
Dutch language widely accessible; after finishing this
translation Ryōtaku then compiled a Dutch–Japanese
dictionary.
During the first half of the nineteenth century,
growing numbers of Japanese physicians studied Dutch
medicine under Dutch and German physicians who
offered instruction in Nagasaki. Until after the Meiji
Restoration in 1868, when Western medicine became
mandated as the sole basis for medical practice,
various schools of Chinese medicine coexisted with
Western medicine in Japan, but the door to Western
medicine and science had been opened because of
indigenous Japanese developments that had taken place
during the eighteenth century, and in this respect the
history of premodern medicine in Japan is unique in
the world.
The spread of vaccination from the mid-nineteenth
century the marks the beginning of modem medical
practice in Japan. By the 1850s, vaccination had
become common in many parts of the country.
However it was not until after the Meiji Restoration
in 1868 that modern medical education became
instituted. Tokyo University was established in 1877,
with its Medical School one of the initial departments.
Thereafter, numerous Japanese students traveled to
Europe, and particularly to Germany, to study medi-
cine. Some continued to work in Europe as researchers
and several, including Kitasato Shibasaburō (1852–
1931), who codiscovered the tetanus antitoxin and
plague bacillus, became internationally renowned; he
was nominated for the first Nobel Prize in medicine. By
the late nineteenth century modern medical schools had
been established throughout the country and medical
practitioners were required to hold state licenses.
During the twentieth century Japanese physicians
have remained on the cutting edge of medical research
in many fields. Since World War II, national health
insurance has made medical care available to the entire
population, helping to make the average life span the
longest in the world.
References
Bartholomew, James. Science, Bureaucracy, and Freedom in
Meiji and Taishō Japan. Conflict in Modern Japanese
History. Ed. Tetsuo Najita, J. Victor Koschmann. Prince-
ton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982.
Bowers, John Z. Western Medical Pioneers in Feudal Japan.
Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1970.
---. When the Twain Meet. The Rise of Western Medicine
in Japan. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1980.
Endo, Jiro and Teruko Nakamura. Nagoya Gen’i’s Medical
System: The Development from the Gosei-Ha School to
the Koho-Ha School. Kagakushi kenkyū 43.229 (2004):
13–21.
Farris, W. Wayne. Population, Disease, and Land in Early
Japan: 645–900. Cambridge: East Asian Monograph
Series, Harvard University Press, 1985.
---. Diseases of the Premodern Period in Japan. The
Cambridge World History of Human Disease. Ed. Kenneth
Kiple. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
376–84.
Jannetta, Ann Bowman. Epidemics and Mortality in Early
Modern Japan. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987.
---. Diseases of the Early Modern Period in Japan. The
Cambridge World History of Human Disease. Ed. Kenneth
Kiple. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
385–8.
Johnston, William D. The Modern Epidemic: A History of
Tuberculosis in Japan. Cambridge: East Asian Monograph
Series, Harvard University Press, 1995.
Kuriyama, Shigehisa. Concepts of Disease in East Asia.
The Cambridge World History of Human Disease. Ed.
Kenneth Kiple. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1993. 52–58.
Matsumoto, Masatoshi, K. Inoue, and E. Kajii. Integrating
Traditional Medicine in Japan: The Case of Kampo
Medicines. Complementary Therapies in Medicine 7.4
(1999): 254–5.
Ng, Wai-ming. The “I Ching” and the Adaptation of Western
science in Tokugawa Japan. Chinese Science 15 (1998):
94–117.
Oberländer, Christian. ‘Traditionelle’ Medizin und Kran-
kheitsverständnis im Japan der Moderne: Der Weg von
der sinojapanischen Heilkunde der Edo-Zeit zur Kanpo-
Medizin der Gegenwart. Zeitschrift für Medizinische Ethik:
Wissenschaft, Kultur, Religion, 2003. 277–286.
Ohnuki-Tierney, Emiko. Illness and Culture in Contemporary
Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.
Sakai, Shizu. Perspectives on the Evolution of Japanese
Medicine. Nihon ishigaku zasshi 49.4 (2003): 756–47.
Shigeo, Sugiyama. Traditional Kampo Medicine: Un-
authenticated in the Meiji Era. Historia Scientiarum:
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International Journal of the History of Science Society of

Japan 13.3(2004): 209–23.
Tatsukawa, Shōji. Diseases of Antiquity in Japan. The
Cambridge World History of Human Disease. Ed. Kenneth
Kiple. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
373–5.

Medicine in Korea

D ON B AKER
Medicine in Korea. Fig. 1 A Chinese herb market in Seoul.
Photo copyright Korea National Tourism organization.
“Oriental Medicine” is the English name Koreans
prefer for what is known in most of the rest of the world
also tested on their knowledge of external medicine (as
as Chinese Medicine. Among themselves, Koreans call
defined in Oriental medicine), primarily acupuncture,
it “Korean medicine.” They believe their traditional
moxibustion, and the treatment of wounds. That section
medicine is as much Korean as it is Chinese, since for
included questions on material introduced in more
around 2,000 years they have adapted medical theories,
recent medical texts, including at least two books from
practices, and even prescriptions from China to fit
China’s Sui (581–618) dynasty.
Korean needs (Fig. 1).
Although China was the primary source of medical
Koreans probably acquired elements of Chinese
concepts and practices, Koreans had to adapt Chinese
medical theory and practices for the first time a little
prescriptions to fit what was available on the Korean
over two millennia ago, after China’s Han dynasty
peninsula. For most of the Goryeo dynasty, Korea was
established four outposts in and around the peninsula
blocked from direct land contact with China by hostile
late in the second century BCE. Not long after the last
non-Chinese states in southern Manchuria. This forced
of those outposts disappeared early in the fourth
Goryeo to develop hyangyak, Koreanized versions of
century, Buddhist monks from China and farther West M
Chinese prescriptions in which herbs, animal parts and
began arriving and teaching not only their religion but
minerals found on the Korean peninsula replaced
also the more advanced civilization of China, including
ingredients from China. The oldest Korean medical
its medical theory and practice.
text still extant, published in 1245, is called Hyangyak
Exactly how much Koreans learned about Chinese
gugeupbang (First Aid Prescriptions Using Native
medicine from those outposts and from those monks is
Ingredients). Not only did the prescriptions in this
not clear, since we have few written records from that
medical manual use ingredients available locally, but
period. The oldest extant history written by Koreans,
some of them were drawn from local folk medicine and
the Samguk sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms),
therefore called for only one or two ingredients, in
dates back only to the twelfth century. However,
contrast to the multitude of ingredients in prescriptions
statements in that book, as well as scattered references
which originated in China. This was just one of several
in Chinese and Japanese records from centuries earlier,
medical manuals produced in the latter part of the
indicate that Koreans were reading Chinese medical
Goryeo era which emphasized locally available
manuals and applying what they read in them during
ingredients as well as prescriptions of local origin
the Three Kingdoms period (300–668) as well as
(Kim 1981: 137–141)
during the Silla period (668–936).
The Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910)
The Kingdom of Goryeo (918–1392) The Joseon dynasty which followed Goryeo, influ-
Substantially more information is available on medical enced by recent developments in Chinese thought,
theory and practice under the Goryeo, which followed embarked on a restructuring of Korean government and
Silla and ruled over the Korean peninsula for four and a society along Neo-Confucian lines. That restructuring
half centuries. We know, for example, that Goryeo used embraced medical institutions as well as medical
Chinese-style civil service examinations to identify practice.
qualified candidates for government medical posts. The Neo-Confucian influence on medicine during
Applicants for Goryeo medical posts were tested on the Joseon dynasty was seen in two areas: the creation
their knowledge of the basic principles of internal of a national network of medical facilities and the
medicine and pharmacology, as found in the same certification of physicians through civil service exam-
Chinese medical classics studied in China. They were inations. The greatest concentration of physicians was in
1552 Medicine in Korea
and around the capital city. The government established
clinics inside Seoul to provide medical care for the royal
family and top officials. It also opened medical clinics
for commoners just outside the city walls so that those
with infectious diseases would not have to enter the
capital itself (Kim 1981: 196–199; 408–416).
In addition, the Joseon government established
medical facilities in various regional centers, primarily
to deal with outbreaks of epidemics among the general
population as well as to collect materia medica from
local areas. A Confucian scholar normally led the
higher-level medical offices. Under him would be
physicians who had passed the civil service medical
examination.
Joseon Korea was a highly stratified society and
privileged a distinguished ancestry and knowledge of
Confucian philosophy and literature ahead of technical
expertise. Only those with a good family background
and a passing grade on the Neo-Confucian civil service
exams could be appointed to the highest posts, such as
director of a major medical clinic. Consequently, the
heads of central government medical agencies were
usually Confucian scholars with more expertise in
Chinese poetry and ancient Chinese history than in the
details of medical practice.
Professional physicians ranked one step below
Confucian scholars on the social ladder. There was a
separate civil service examination for those who aspired
to such a post. Though there was no legal requirement
that those sitting for that examination be descended from
a previous exam passer, the emphasis in the Joseon
dynasty on hereditary status meant that a few families
dominated the list of medical exam passers. For
example, ten families produced almost 30% of all
officially certified physicians between 1498 and 1894
(we lack reliable records on medical officials for the first
century of the Joseon dynasty) (Yi 1997; Kim 1999).
Only physicians who sought an appointment to a
civil service position were required to pass the medical
examination. Until 1900, medical practitioners among
the general population did not need any official
certification of their medical expertise. Nor were they
subject to government oversight. However, even
among those with informal credentials, family back-
ground was still important. A popular saying during the
Joseon dynasty warned villagers, “Do not accept
medicine from a doctor who is not at least a third-
generation physician.”
Joseon Korea was a patriarchy and restricted most
government appointments, including medical appoint-
ments, to men. However, some women were employed
as medical technicians because of the constraints of
Confucian ethics. Uncomfortable with the idea of a
male physician examining the body of a female patient,
which would violate the Confucian directive calling for
a rigid separation of the sexes among upper-class adults,
King Taejong (r. 1400–1418) ordered that a few women
be selected for training in acupuncture, moxibustion,
and pulse measurement (an important diagnostic tool).
Male pharmaceutical specialists could prepare medi-
cines for an upper-class woman who was ill, but they
were not allowed to place the acupuncture needle or
moxa on her skin nor could they place their male fingers
on her veins to feel her pulse. After 1406, such tasks
therefore were assigned to a small core of women
medical practitioners at court (Heo 1992: 214–217).
Localized Chinese Medicine
Official medicine in Joseon Korea was based primarily
on the canonical texts of Chinese medicine. Koreans
supplemented the medical theory and clinical advice in
those classical works with more recent Chinese
publications as well as with Korean texts that provided
local counterparts for the Chinese ingredients in
Chinese prescriptions. Both trends are particularly
evident during the reign of Joseon’s fourth and greatest
King, King Sejong (r. 1418–1450). Among the many
volumes compiled and published under King Sejong’s
direction, two are particularly important for the history
of Oriental medicine in Korea.
The first is the 85-volume Hyangyak jipseongbang
(Great Collection of Native Korean Prescriptions).
Completed in 1433, this encyclopedic pharmaceutical
guidebook identified 959 different diseases, arranged
under 57 different categories. It described 703 different
mineral, vegetable, or animal medicinal products
available on the peninsula, told how to identify them,
when to collect them, and what diseases they were
effective against. Many of its prescriptions were
extracted from Chinese medical manuals. However,
whenever possible, it substituted native ingredients
for expensive or rare Chinese ingredients (Kim 1976:
70–73). In addition, this work listed almost 1,500 ways
acupuncture and moxibustion could be used, some
based on local experience.
To ensure that his physicians had access to the best
advice Chinese medicine had to offer, even if all the
prescribed ingredients were not readily available, in
1445 King Sejong also had his officials compile the
Uibang yuchwi (Classified Collection of Medical
Prescriptions). Totaling 365 volumes, this massive
reference work listed over 50,000 separate prescrip-
tions, drawn from Chinese sources and arranged
according to the symptoms they were believed to
alleviate. It also included separate sections on treating
childhood illnesses and mental disorders, on child-
birth, on first-aid remedies, and on treating fractures
(Kim 1976: 80–83).
Both the Great Collection of Native Korean
Prescriptions and the Classified Collection of Medical
Prescriptions were compiled for the use of physicians

at court and were too large to be made available to the
general public. However, in 1613, a more concise guide
to medical theory and practice appeared. Koreans
consider the 25-volume Dongui bogam (A Treasury of
Eastern Medicine) their greatest original contribution to
the development of Oriental medicine. Compiled by
royal decree under the direction of Korea’s most
revered physician, Heo Jun (1539–1615) (Fig. 2).
A Treasury of Eastern Medicine provided an encyclo-
pedic overview of Oriental medicine from a Korean
perspective. At only 25 volumes, it was more compact
than either of King Sejong’s two massive medical
encyclopedias and therefore could be more easily
distributed to government offices throughout the
peninsula. Read by Confucian scholars as well as
physicians, it shaped medical thought and practice in
Korea for the rest of the Joseon dynasty and remains
influential today.
A Treasury of Eastern Medicine opens with explana-
tions of the basic concepts of Oriental medicine. Heo
placed particular emphasis on jeong (Chinese jing),
ki (C. qi), and shin (C. shen). Those three Sino-Korean
terms are used in such a wide variety of contexts with
such a wide range of meanings that it is difficult to find
English equivalents for them. As Heo uses them, they
refer roughly to essential bodily fluids, bodily energy,
and refined bodily energy, respectively. All three terms
refer to the fundamental cosmic energy that animates
the universe. Within the human body that vital energy
takes three different forms, distinguished according to
differences in visibility, tangibility, and density. Jeong
Medicine in Korea. Fig. 2 Heo Jun, the chief author of A
Treasury of Eastern Medicine. Reprinted courtesy of the
Association of Korean Oriental Medicine.
Medicine in Korea 1553
is visible vitalizing energy, such as semen or blood.
Ki is invisible but palpable vitalizing energy, discerned
when a doctor feels the pulse of a patient to determine
the state of his or her internal energy. Shin is ethereal
vitalizing energy, so rarefied that it provides the
physiological basis for consciousness. Heo places
fostering and reinforcing that vitalizing energy at the
core of his approach to Oriental medicine.
After introducing jeong, ki, and shin, Heo discusses
various external windows into the state of vital energy
within, including blood, phlegm, saliva, dreams, and
the sound of the patient’s voice. Only in his third
chapter does he turn to the coagulation of vital energy
into the five major governing organs (liver, heart,
spleen, lungs, and kidneys) and the six supportive
organs (gallbladder, stomach, large intestine, small
intestine, bladder, and triple burner). He follows that
discussion of the inside of the human body with
a discussion of the outside, from head to foot. He
complements this analysis of the basic components and
processes of the body with a detailed analysis of the
various ways those components can become dysfunc-
tional and as a result damage the body’s other
components, preventing them from functioning the
way they should. He also included a catalogue of the
medicinal substances available in China and Korea,
where they could be found, how to prepare them for
human consumption, and when to prescribe them. His
final chapters are a detailed description of when and
M
how to use acupuncture and moxibustion.
The basic principles of both Heo’s medical theory
and his practical suggestions for health and healing
were derived from the Oriental medicine of China.
What made Heo’s book different, and so influential,
was the way he presented those theories and techni-
ques. Earlier medical handbooks were primarily
compilations of medical texts which did not evaluate
the relative effectiveness of the various prescriptions
and other medical strategies those texts recommended.
Heo provided an interpretative framework for under-
standing which healing and health-enhancing techni-
ques were likely to work better than others. He also
provided evaluations of which medicines or procedures
were likely to be the most effective in specific
situations.
Despite the contributions of The Treasury of Eastern
Medicine, medical problems increased rather than
decreased over the next three centuries. The first
serious new threat to Korean health was syphilis.
Introduced onto the peninsula early in the sixteenth
century, it became a major medical problem during the
Japanese invasions at the end of that century. That
deadly sexually transmitted disease was joined soon
afterwards by one even more deadly because it spread
from victim to victim through more casual contact.
Sometime in the seventeenth century a new virulent
1554 Medicine in Korea

strain of measles appeared in Korea, taking the lives
of thousands in periodic epidemics from the late
seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries. The
nineteenth century brought one more new biological
brake on population growth. Cholera reached Korean
shores in 1822, returning again several more times that
century, each time killing tens of thousands.
The impact on population growth was striking.
Instead of growing rapidly, as it had in the first part
of the Joseon dynasty, the Korean population first
stagnated and then began shrinking. The Korean
government counted almost a million fewer Koreans
in 1850 than it had found a half a century earlier. That
1800 figure itself was only a slight advance, of less
than 100,000, over the census figures for 1750.
Both epidemics and famines were taking their toll
(Baker 1990).
The response of Korea to this demographic decline
was a popularization of Oriental medicine. The
Treasury of Eastern Medicine was too large for
distribution among the general population, so much
smaller pamphlets dealing with prescriptions for
specific diseases were printed and distributed to meet
the growing popular demand for medical information.
Such publications designed for the masses were not the
only evidence of the popularization of Oriental
medicine in the second half of the Joseon dynasty.
The opening of Oriental medicine markets in four
Korean cities, starting in the mid-seventeenth century,
indicates that more and more Koreans were beginning
to trust prescriptions more than the shamans and monks
they had relied on in the past. By the middle of the
eighteenth century there was enough demand for
Oriental medicine that a new occupation appeared in
Korea-pharmacists. Koreans began to frequent private
shops run by men skilled in diagnosing disease
according to the categories of Oriental medicine who
would then prepare prescriptions in accordance with
their diagnosis (Kim 1998: 190–92).
This growing popularity of Oriental medicine among
the general population stimulated not only the greater
use of indigenous materia medica but also the indigeni-
zation of medical theory. Near the end of the nineteenth
century, an amateur physician supplemented the medi-
cal theory imported from China with some additional
reflections on the relationship between differences
in individual physical constitutions and differences in
responses to medical treatment. Lee Je-ma (1838–1900)
suggested that every human being could be assigned to
one of four separate and distinct physiological cate-
gories, depending on which of four emotions (sorrow,
anger, joy, and pleasure) dominated that individual’s
personality. He recommended that physicians determine
which of those four constitutional types best described a
patient before they treated him or her, since he believed
that the same outward symptoms were manifestations of
different internal malfunctions in different physiological
types. The physiological category applied to a patient
was determined by the emotion that patient tended to
display to excess. Someone prone to sudden outbursts of
anger, for example, would damage his liver and would
therefore have a physiology different from someone
who was too quick to indulge in sensual pleasure and
would therefore have damaged lungs (Lee Je-ma).
Lee’s unique “Four Constitutions” approach to
diagnosis and treatment has become increasingly
popular in Korea in recent decades. However, before
Koreans could create a Koreanized Oriental medicine
based in part on Lee Je-ma’s hypotheses, they first had
to overcome a drastic fall in status for Oriental
medicine in Korea at the end of the nineteenth century
and the first half of the twentieth (Fig. 3).
In 1884, Christian missionaries from North America
entered Korea carrying both Bibles and doctor’s
satchels. Within a decade, government legitimation of
Oriental medicine through state civil service examina-
tions had ended and a hospital practicing the new
biomedicine from the West had opened in Seoul with
support from the Korean government. Korea’s rush to
modernization threatened to leave behind Korea’s
traditional medicine.
Practitioners of Oriental medicine did not vanish
from Seoul. There were so few physicians trained in
biomedicine on the Korean peninsula that the govern-
ment found that it had to assign Oriental medicine
doctors as medical officers for the modern army it
began trying to build in 1896. Moreover, Oriental
medicine physicians remained on the staff on the Royal
Medicine in Korea. Fig. 3 Yi Jema. Reprinted courtesy of
the Association of Korean Oriental Medicine.

Clinic and the Directorate of Medicine, since the royal
family was still more comfortable with traditional
medicine than with the new medicine from abroad. In
addition, since most of the general population was also
more comfortable with Oriental medicine than with
biomedicine, and also because there were very few
Koreans trained in biomedicine, the Joseon government
decided to include Oriental medicine in its plans for the
modernization of its public health system. In 1899 it
opened the Gwangjewon (Seoul Public Hospital)
which it staffed primarily with specialists in Oriental
medicine. The next year, the government inaugurated a
licensing system for all practitioners of Oriental medi-
cine on the peninsula. This was the first time in Korean
history that medical specialists who operated outside of
the civil service had received any official certification
of their expertise (Heo: 293–301; Shin 1999).
Oriental Medicine in Twentieth-Century Korea
In 1905, however, the Joseon dynasty lost most of its
power to make its own decisions when the rising
imperial power of Japan imposed Japanese advisors on
the Korean government. Five years later, in 1910, the
last vestiges of Korean autonomy ended when Japan
turned Korea into a colony under direct Japanese
control. The Japanese immediately embarked on a
campaign to change Korea into a society more closely
resembling modernizing Japan. That included changing
traditional Korean medicine into the form of medicine
Japan considered more compatible with the modern
world, the biomedicine imported from the West. Oriental
medicine had to wait until the Americans defeated the
Japanese in 1945 and Korea recovered its autonomy
before it could regain anything close to the respectability
it had enjoyed prior to Japanese colonial rule.
The end of Japanese colonial rule created two
competing governments on the peninsula, with differ-
ent policies toward Oriental medicine. The Communist
government of North Korea redefined Oriental medi-
cine as the traditional medicine of the Korean people
and therefore worthy of government support. An
Institute for the Study of Eastern Medicine was
established within North Korea’s National Medical
Science Center in the 1950s, decades before a similar
research center received government funding in South
Korea. North Korea also incorporated Oriental medi-
cine into the national public health system long before
South Korea assigned Oriental Medicine doctors to its
rural health centers (Fig. 4).
In pro-Western South Korea, Oriental medicine had
to overcome the assumption among South Korea’s
Westernized elite that Oriental medicine represented a
past Korea needed to leave behind to win respect as
a modern nation. A shortage of medical practitioners
during the Korean War forced the government in 1952
Medicine in Korea 1555
Medicine in Korea. Fig. 4 Medicine Cabinets used by
Korean Oriental Medicine Specialists. Copyright: Korea
National Tourism Organization.
to formally recognize Oriental medicine doctors as
physicians. This paved the way for official recognition
of Oriental medicine clinics, as well as a state licensing
examination for new Oriental Medicine Doctors
(Yi 1977: 316). Formal recognition, however, did not
win Oriental medicine doctors the high status and
high incomes biomedical physicians enjoyed. Given
the traditional Korean respect for educational creden-
tials, parity with biomedicine had to wait until
there were respected medical schools for Oriental
medicine in Korea.
The first college in independent South Korea M
dedicated to preparing doctors of Oriental medicine
opened its doors in 1953. Four years later it opened an
attached Oriental Medicine Hospital. However, it ran
into financial difficulties and was absorbed by
Kyunghee University in 1965, which created an
Oriental Medicine College within the Kyunghee
University medical school. Kyunghee University
quickly inaugurated a graduate program in Oriental
medicine and in 1971 opened South Korea’s first large
Oriental medicine hospital as part of a newly opened
Kyunghee University Medical Center. A year later
Won’gwang University, also privately run, opened South
Korea’s second medical school for Oriental medicine.
Won’gwang University added its own affiliated Oriental
medicine hospital in 1975 (Yi: 317–319).
There are now 11 medical schools for Oriental
medicine in South Korea, all established by private
universities. There are also 147 Oriental medicine
hospitals, all privately run, and over 8,000 Oriental
medicine clinics. As yet, there are no schools of
Oriental medicine at public universities, nor are there
any government-run Oriental medicine hospitals.
However, the growing respectability for Oriental
medicine led the South Korean government to open
the Korea Institute of Oriental Medicine in 1994 to
coordinate research on the theory and practice of
Oriental medicine.
1556 Medicine in Korea
That growing respectability has also been reflected
in changes in the 1990s in South Korea’s laws
regulating providers of medical care. Graduates of
colleges of Oriental medicine are now allowed to fulfill
their obligatory term of military service as medical
officers in the South Korean military, just as graduates
of colleges of other medical colleges have done since
the establishment of the Republic of Korea in 1948.
They may also be assigned to responsible positions in
public health centers, something not permitted before
the 1990s. In addition, in 1996 the law regulating
pharmacists was changed to recognize those who had
graduated from a pharmacology department of a college
of Oriental medicine as certified specialists in Oriental
pharmacology. In 1992 South Korea’s national medical
insurance system recognized this increased respect-
ability of Oriental medicine by adding coverage for a
few basic prescriptions to the coverage established in
1987 for acupuncture, moxibustion, and vacuum
cupping.
One way Oriental medicine has regained respect-
ability in the last decade of the twentieth century is
through modernization. Korean Oriental medicine
has become more compatible with modern urban
life by adopting such markers of modernization as
standardization and mechanization.
Traditionally, an Oriental medicine physician or
pharmacist would modify prescriptions to meet the
particular needs of a particular patient. It is still possible
to obtain individually tailored prescriptions in South
Korea today, but it is also possible to walk into a drug
store and purchase packages of Oriental medicine
prescriptions in mass-produced pill, granular, or liquid
form, no different in appearance from many medicines
produced in the factories of Western pharmaceutical
companies.
Similarly, patients who visit an Oriental medicine
hospital for a physical examination might find that their
blood pressure is checked the same way it would be
checked in a biomedical clinic, although they may also
have their pulse checked by a machine which will
produce a result framed in terms of the traditional 27
measures of the pulse in Oriental medicine. In addition
to an electrocardiogram evaluating how well their heart
is functioning, they may encounter another mechanical
device that will evaluate the flow of vital energy
through their hands and feet.
Not only diagnosis but also treatment, particularly
acupuncture, has been modernized as well. The
traditional insertion of needles into specific points
along the vital energy channels is still practiced, but
now those needles sometimes are electrified to provide
additional stimulus to vital energy. Lasers are also used
to enhance the effectiveness of acupuncture needles.
For the treatment of pain, sometimes bee venom is
injected into an acupuncture point in a treatment called
“medicinal acupuncture.” Tapping is another variant
on traditional acupuncture. Tape is pasted over an
acupuncture point, stretching the muscles and stimulat-
ing the vital energy flowing through that point.
Whether Oriental medicine in Korea is a unique
Korean approach to health and healing or whether it is
a Korean variant of traditional Chinese medicine, it
is nonetheless seen by Koreans today as a legacy of
their traditional culture worth preserving. Oriental
medicine has not been supplanted by biomedicine in
twentieth-century Korea. On the contrary, Oriental
medicine flourishes alongside biomedicine, in a
complementary rather than an antagonistic relationship.
That complementary relationship is revealed in the
presence of family practice biomedical physicians
staffing the emergency rooms of Oriental medicine
hospitals. It also appears in the advice of a biomedical
physician to a patient recovering from a stroke to visit
an acupuncturist, or in the advice of an Oriental
medicine physician to a patient suffering from
appendicitis to hurry to the emergency room of a
biomedicine hospital. For most Koreans today, bio-
medicine remains the medicine of choice for acute
medical problems or for problems requiring surgery.
However, Oriental medicine remains the medicine
of choice for chronic pain, fatigue, or the ravages of
old age. If recent past history is any guide, it is likely
that Oriental medicine will remain a viable and vital
partner of biomedicine in Korea for decades, if not
centuries, to come.
Extra 1
Some nationalists claim that needle-shaped bits of stone found in
excavations of Neolithic villages on the Korean peninsula prove that
Koreans rather than the Chinese invented acupuncture. Other
nationalists cite references to mugwort and garlic in the ancient
myth of Dan’gun as “proof” that what non-Koreans call Chinese
medicine arose independently in Korea over four millennia ago. Few
scholars outside Korea accept such claims. (Kim. Han’guk uihaksa
[A History of Medicine in Korea] Seoul: Tamgudang 1981: 14–28.)
Extra 2
Recently, one Korean claims to have greatly simplified acupuncture.
Yu Tae-u, the founder of hand acupuncture, claims that he discovered
in the 1970s that all the acupuncture points on the body have
counterparts on the hand and that stimulation of those points on the
hand is just as effective as stimulation of the corresponding points on
the other parts of the body. Few mainstream doctors of Oriental
medicine in Korea accept Yu’s restriction of acupuncture to the hand,
though hand acupuncture had become popular among the general
population as a form of self-medication. It has also gained adherents
in Japan and North America (Yu Tae-u 1988).
References
Association of Korean Oriental Medicine. Oriental Medicine
of Korea. Seoul: Association of Korean Oriental Medicine,
1998.

Baker, Donald Leslie. Sirhak Medicine: Measles, Smallpox,
and Chong Tasan. Korean Studies 14 (1990): 135–63.
Heo, Jeong. Esei uiryo Han’guk sa. (Essays on the History
of Korean Medicine) Seoul: Hanul Publishing Co., 1992.
Kim, Daewon. 18 Segi ui min’gan uiryo ui seongjang.
(The Popularization of Medicine During the Eighteenth
Century) Han’guk saron 39 (1998): 187–238.
Kim, Du-chong (Kim Dujong). Middle Eastern and Western
Influence on the Development of Korean medicine. Korea
Journal 2.12 (1962): 5–7.
Kim, Dujong. Han’guk uihaksa. (A History of Medicine in
Korea) Seoul: Tamgudang, 1981.
---. Heo Jun ui Dongui bogam yeon’gu. (A Study of Heo
Jun’s Treasury of Eastern Medicine) Seoul: Iljisa, 2000.
Kim, Jin. Joseon sidae uigwan seonbal. (The Selection of
Medical Officials During the Joseon Dynasty) Dongbang
hakji 104 (1999): 1–93.
Kim Tai-jin. A Bibliographical Guide to Traditional Korean
Sources. Seoul: Asiatic Research Center, Korea University,
1976.
Lee Je-ma (Yi Jema). Longevity and Life Preservation in
Oriental Medicine. Trans. Choe Seung-hoon. Seoul:
Kyung Hee University Press, 1996.
Shin, Dongwon. The License System for Korean Herbal
Practitioners in 1900. Current Perspectives in the History of
Science in East Asia. Ed. Yung Sik Kim and Francesca Bray
Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 1999. 478–83.
Yi, Gyugeun. Joseon hugi naeuiwon uigwan yeon’gu.
(A Study of the Medical Staff of the Royal Clinic) Josen
sidae sahak 3 (1997): 5–49.
Yi, Jonghyeong. Han’guk Donguihak sa (A History of
Oriental Medicine in Korea) Han’guk Hyeondae munhwa-
sa daegye. Vol. III. Kwahak kisul sa (A Survey of Modern
Korean Culture. Vol. 3. The History of Science and
Technology) Seoul: Goryeo daehakkyo minjok munhwa
yeon’guweon, 1977: 263–336.
Yu, Tae-u, Koryo Hand Acupuncture: Koryo Sooji Chim.
Seoul, Korea: Eum Yang Mek Jin Pub. Co., 1988.
Websites
▶http://www.kiom.re.kr/english. An English language intro-
duction to the work of the Korean Institute of Oriental
Medicine, a government-sponsored research institute.
▶http://www.koms.or.kr/international/. The English-
language website of the Korean Oriental Medical Society.
▶http://www.koma.or.kr/eng/. The English-language website
of the Association of Korean Oriental Medicine.
▶http://www.khmc.or.kr/english/30.htm. An English-
language website of the Oriental Medicine Hospital of
Kyonghee University Medical Center in Seoul.
Medicine in Meso and South America
R UBEN G. M ENDOZA
Ancient America provides a unique case study for
examining the independent development of medicinal
practices and technologies in non-Western societal
Medicine in Meso and South America 1557
contexts (Majno 1975). Initial European contacts with
New World cultures of the early sixteenth century made
clear that aboriginal medical systems and technologies
embodied principles of a holistic – mental, somatic,
spiritual, and supernatural – approach to healing
(Classen 1993; Guerra 1971; Lopez Austin 1971;
Huber and Sandstorm 2001). While the great centers of
New World civilization provide our most complete
record of medical practices and technologies, many
localized native populations contributed to the exten-
sive body of technical knowledge and expertise
associated with herbal, chemical, surgical, extraso-
matic, or ritual approaches to healing and public
hygiene (Ankl 2002; Gall 1997; Kunow 2003). From
South American gold and other metal-based dental
fillings, cranial trephination, postcranial surgery, and
coca-based anesthetics, to Mesoamerican intramedullar
nails, medicinal enemas, surgical sutures and cauteri-
zation, caesarean sections, topical anesthetics, poul-
tices, and birth control, the list of ancient American
medical practices and technologies is as impressive as it
is extensive (Mendoza 2003).
Because of the breadth and diversity of these
practices in the Americas, we can only examine a
narrow sampling specific to ancient Mesoamerica and
Peru. The following discussion will move from a
consideration of basic Native American concepts
pertaining to the causes of disease to the examination
of specific case studies concerning the development
M
and sophistication of Native American practices. The
perspectives in question are drawn from contact era
sixteenth-century accounts of the Aztec and Inca
civilizations. One should bear in mind that the New
World Inquisition inhibited and condemned the exer-
cise of Native American medical practices. Through the
entire duration of the colonial era (ca. AD 1521–1824)
these practices were thought to be the work of sorcerers
and other native practitioners in league with the Devil
(Cobo 1990). European colonials actively sought to
destroy ancient medical works, along with pagan
practices and practitioners, throughout the contact era.
While early chroniclers attempted to document such
practices, they openly disparaged them, and every effort
was made to minimize their significance by comparison
with European practices of the time by way of blatantly
ethnocentric and racist assumptions about the mental
life and intellectual contributions and potential of
America’s aboriginal inhabitants. In those few instances
where a concerted scientific effort was made to collect
information on the medical practices of such groups as
the Aztec (Sahagun 1932), the distribution or publica-
tion of such works was prohibited for centuries (Cruz,
Bylan and Gates 2000).
Much of our knowledge of contact era medical
practices is derived from the detailed chronicles
compiled to document the cultural history of the Aztec
1558 Medicine in Meso and South America
and Inca civilizations. For example, medical anthro-
pologist Bernard Ortiz de Montellano (1990) has
subdivided Aztec concepts pertaining to the causes
and treatment of disease into three categories: super-
natural or religious, magical, and natural or physical.
He indicates that the Aztec held a holistic world view
pertaining to the causes and cures of disease, and refers
us to the work of Mexican ethnohistorian, Lopez
Austin: “the origin of illness is complex, including and
often intertwining two types of causes: those that we
would call natural – excesses, accidents, deficiencies,
exposure to sudden temperature changes, contagions
and the like – and those caused by the intervention of
nonhuman beings or of human beings with more than
normal powers. For example, a native could think that
his rheumatic problems came from the supreme will of
Titlacahuan, from the punishment sent by the tlaloque
for not having performed a certain rite, from direct
attack by a being who inhabited a certain spring, and
from prolonged chilling in cold water; the native would
not consider it all as a confluence of diverse causes but
as a complex” (Lopez Austin 1974: 216–217). This
complex view required that the physician reconcile a
variety of conceptual, spiritual, and physical dimen-
sions in the course of diagnosis and treatment. Aztec
doctors were required to balance herbal and other
chemical treatments with interpretive models of causation
ranging from the supernatural and magical to the natural,
or a complex mix of both (Cichewicz and Thorpe 1996).
The supernatural and magical, encompassing astrological
interpretations such as those prevalent in sixteenth-
century Europe, were of the greatest interest to early
contact-era European chroniclers (Majna 1986).
Botanical Knowledge
While the botanical repertoire of New World peoples is
discussed elsewhere within this encyclopedia, the
relative significance of botanical specimens and
knowledge to New World medical traditions necessi-
tates brief consideration. It should be noted that recent
research in this area makes clear the great contributions
made by Native Americans (Schultes 1994; Lux 2001;
Lopez Austin 1974). The surviving Aztec herbal known
as the Codex Badianus provides one of the most
extensive listings of botanical specimens identified with
the medication and treatment of a variety of ailments
(Cruz Byland, and Gates 2000). However, in his efforts
to make the herbal, authored by the Aztec doctor Martin
de la Cruz, palatable to a European audience, Juan
Badiano, the chronicler who prepared the document for
submission to King Charles, modified it to incorporate
European medical beliefs regarding the role played by
temperature in illness, diagnosis, and treatment.
The large body of medicinal knowledge identified
with the Americas, and subsequently adopted by
European-based medical systems, included such an-
cient Native American medicinal and hallucinogenic
substances as coca (Erythroxylon coca), mescaline
(Lophophora williamsii), nicotine (Nicotiana taba-
cum), quinine (Quina cinchona), psilocyben (Psilocybe
mexicana), dopamine (Carnegiea gigantea), anodyne
analgesics (Solandra guerrerensis), the ergot alkoloid
D-lysergic acid (Ipomoea violacea), and genipen-based
antibacterial agents (Chlorophora tinctoria). To this list
may be added medications and related chemicals and
supplements ranging from N-dimethylhistamine to
atropine, seratonin, tryptamine, kaempferol, prosopine,
pectin, and camphor – to name but a few. These served
Aztec physicians in a variety of capacities. Ortiz de
Montellano (1990) has documented the medicinal
properties of many of the herbal and chemical treat-
ments administered by Aztec physicians. Included in
that listing are diuretics, laxatives, sedatives, soporifics,
purgatives, astringents, hemostats, hallucinogens, anes-
thetics, emetics, oxytocics, diaphoretics, and anthel-
mintics. Furthermore, there were a variety of antibiotic
or antiseptic treatments for treating wounds, medicating
infections and fractures, and performing surgery. These
included the herbal vasoconstrictor comelina pallida,
maguey or agave sap, for its hemolytic, osmotic, and
detergent effects, hot urine in lieu of other available
sources of sterile water, and mixtures of salt and honey
which have been determined to provide enhanced
antiseptic functions.
Recent studies of the “hidden chemical wealth of
plants” used by the Native American tribes of the
Amazon rain forest provide but one more point of
departure for gauging the range and extent of pre-
Columbian medical traditions (Schultes 1994). In his
summary of the pharmacology of the Kofan and Witoto
tribes of the Amazon Basin, ethnobotanist Richard
Evans Schultes has observed that “the forest peoples’
acquaintance with plants is subtle as well as extensive.
The Indians often distinguish “kinds” of a plant that
appear indistinguishable, even to the experienced
taxonomic botanist.” This taxonomic acuteness extends
to the level of being able to distinguish chemovars, or
the basic chemical constitution of a specific subvariety,
by visual inspection alone. Despite an estimated 80,000
species of higher plants in the Amazon, fewer than 10%
have been “subjected to even superficial chemical
analysis (Schultes 1994).” Such a store of indigenous
botanical knowledge recently prompted Schultes to ask
“why not regard the Indians of the Amazon Basin as a
kind of phytochemical rapid-assessment team already
on the ground?”
Medical Specialists and Personnel
While it is clear from all accounts that herbal specia-
lists existed in all regions of pre-Columbian America,

the existence of a broader corps of trained medical
specialists and personnel is less evenly documented. So
intent were early contact-era European chroniclers on
disparaging and discouraging pagan forms of medicine
that much was done to reduce the role of medical spe-
cialists from Native American communities. In most
instances, medical specialists ranging from herbalists to
physicians were simply characterized as sorcerers or
charlatans. Given the relatively impoverished state of
European medicinal practices of the early sixteenth
century, it is no wonder that most European chroniclers
of Native American medical traditions expressed out-
right contempt for Native American physicians and
their medical practices and traditions. Despite deliber-
ate errors of omission and commission, surviving
documents provide indications of the broad sophis-
tication in Native American medicinal practices.
As for the documented existence of a scientific
tradition with trained practitioners specialized in
specific forms of surgical treatment, we are informed
by archaeologist Burland (1967) that, in a region above
Lima, Peru, there existed an ethnic enclave known as
the Yauyos with whom the Inca collaborated in the
training of specialists in the art of cranial trephination
or skull surgery. The patient was drugged, and pain was
alleviated by way of the application of direct pressure
to nerve endings in the affected area. In such instances,
trephination was used only as a last resort, whereby the
diseased or smashed bone was cut away from the skull.
Other forms of surgery included the “removal of a torn
spleen, cleaning out of ulcers, and the cleaning and
after-care of wounds” (Burland 1967). Professional
alliances between the Inca and Yauyo allowed for the
exchange of technical knowledge and technicians.
Accounts of the work of Yauyo physicians indicate that
they were highly trained and had developed a formal
discipline based on a corp of specialists. Apparently,
herbal specialists of highland Peru were organized into
“local confraternities,” while medical specialists and
physicians – camasca or soncoyoc – were sponsored
by the Inca state and “highly trained within their own
kind of collegiate discipline.” This latter point is of
paramount significance in establishing the existence of
a specialized corps of medical personnel, and as such,
the makings of a formally constituted and state-
sponsored scientific tradition specialized in the treat-
ment and trephination of the human cranium.
According to medical historian Gordon Schendel
(1968), technical distinctions were made between
“old” and “new” school physicians. At European
contact, old school physicians were thought of as
more traditional and more adept at conveying medical
and spiritual beliefs pertaining to the art of healing,
whereas the physicians of the new school engaged
specialized methods and medical procedures. Among the
Aztec, medical specialists included the tlana-tepat-ticitl
Medicine in Meso and South America 1559
or healer who “cured with medicines which were digested
or applied on the skin” (Guzman Peredo 1985), the
texoxotlaticitl or surgeon whose skills included blood-
letting, and the papiani-papamacani or herbalist. Other
terms utilized to identify Aztec medical specialists
included texoxtl, or surgeons, and the tlamatepatli or
medical interns of the texoxtl surgeons. The tecoani
were the bloodletters; the temixiuitiani were the
midwives. The papiani were the pharmacologists or
herbal pharmacists. The panamacani are identified
with pharmacognosists, or those individuals spe-
cialized in the identification; collection, and dispens-
ing of herbal remedies, a specialty not unlike that of
the plant pharmacologists of the Amazon Basin.
Schendel has also documented the existence of a variety
of specialists and areas of medical specialization,
including internists, psychiatrists or psychotherapists,
anesthesiologists, dermatologists, dentists, obstetri-
cians, gynecologists, orthopediatricians, ophthamolo-
gists, urinogenital surgeons, and other practitioners
specialized in the administration of tonsillectomy and
embryotomy. In all areas of medical endeavor, spe-
cialists were held accountable for their actions and
practices by their peers, as well as by the community
at large.
Other specialists included those who used chiroprac-
tic methods, whereby “these doctors, in the case of
falls, usually strip the patient and rub his flesh; they
make him lie face downwards and step on his back. I
M
have seen this myself, and I have heard patients say that
they felt better… the pity of it is that there are even
Spanish men and women who believe them (Aztec
physicians) and are manipulated to serve their needs
and evil” (Cervantes de Salazar 1936, as cited in
Guzman Peredo 1985). Spanish Friar Bernardino de
Sahagun commended the technical expertise of Aztec
physicians and noted that they “had great knowledge of
vegetables; moreover, they knew how to perform
bloodletting and to reduce dislocated bones and
fractures. They made incisions. They healed sores
and the gout. They cut the fleshy excrescence in cases
of ophthalmia (inflammation of the eyes).”
Surgical Practices
As our discussion of medical specializations makes
clear, pre-Columbian medical practices, particularly
those pertaining to surgical methods, were comprehen-
sive and sophisticated in scope. According to conquest
period chronicles, “Aztec battle surgeons tended their
wounded skillfully and healed them faster than did
the Spanish surgeons … [and] … one area of clear Aztec
superiority over the Spanish was the treatment of wounds.
European wound treatment at that time consisted of
cauterization with boiling oil and reciting of prayers while
waiting for infection to develop the ‘laudable pus’ that
1560 Medicine in Meso and South America
was seen as a good sign” (as cited in Ortiz de Montellano
1990). Medical historian Miguel Guzman Peredo (1985)
cites Fray Bernardino de Sahagun: “Cuts and wounds on
the nose after an accident had to be treated by suturing
with hair from the head and by applying to the stitches and
the wound white honey and salt. After this, if the nose fell
off or if the treatment was a failure, an artificial nose took
the place of the real one. Wounds on the lips had to be
sutured with hair from the head, and afterwards melted
juice from the maguey plant, called meulli, was poured on
the wound; if, however, after the cure, an ugly blemish
remained, an incision had to be made and the wound had
to be burned and sutured again with hair and treated with
melted meulli.” This citation makes clear the availability
of prosthetic or cosmetic devices, the use of sutures, and
the application of maguey or agave sap as an antibiotic
ointment.
The Aztec also maintained a complex typology
for mapping human anatomy and physiology. They
identified specific body parts, organs, and their res-
pective biological functions, and employed anatomical
terms for the articular surfaces and attachments of
limbs, as for instance in the use of the terms acolli,
moliztli, maquechtli, and tlanquaitl, for the articulation
of the shoulder, elbow, wrist, and knee, respectively.
According to Guzman Peredo, “those physicians had
more than elementary concepts of the different organic
functions. They knew, for example, of the circulation of
the blood. They even became aware of the throbbing at
the tip of the heart; this they called tetecuicaliztli. The
radial pulse was called tlahuatl.” Armed with such
knowledge, the Aztec “used traction and counter
traction to reduce fractures and sprains and splints to
immobilize fractures” (Ortiz de Montellano 1990).
Perhaps one of the most significant medical innovations
concerns the use of the intramedullar nail. Bernardino de
Sahagun (1932) noted that in instances where bone
fractures failed to heal, “the bone is exposed; a very
resinous stick is cut; it is inserted within the bone, bound
within the incision, covered over with the medicine
mentioned.” The intramedullar nail was not rediscov-
ered by Western medicine until well into the twentieth
century.
The most outstanding example of the empirical
reliability and effectiveness of a pre-Columbian
medical tradition centering on surgical applications
was the use of cranial trephination or skull surgery
(Mendoza 2003). Examples of the practice have been
documented from throughout South, Middle, and North
America. An extensive review of this practice can be
found elsewhere in the encyclopedia.
Our review of pre-Columbian medicinal practices
raises many more questions than can be addressed in
this essay. Clearly, the European predilection for
accommodating only that which suited prevailing
eurocentric modes of thought contributed to the uneven
documentation of significant Native American medical
innovations and practices. A selected recounting of
significant innovations should take into account
practices centered on (a) holistic concepts of health,
(b) state-sponsored public health programs, (c) an
extensive body of anatomical terminology, (d) the
existence of confraternal medical associations and
state-sponsored medical corps, and specific practices
centered on medical innovations such as those pertain-
ing to (e) cranial trephination, (f) prosthetic and
cosmetic devices, (g) antibiotic and antiseptic oint-
ments and medications, (h) intramedullar nails, (i) formal
procedures for the maintenance of dental health and
hygiene, (j) psycho- and logo-therapeutic, or image-
based, psychological approaches, and not surpris-
ingly, (k) the largest pharmacological repertoire of
effective and affective herbal and chemical remedies
ever documented in the ancient world. Ultimately, any
assessment of pre-Columbian medical traditions and
innovations will need to contend with the fact that
scholars have only just begun to scratch the surface of
this New World of lost science and tradition.
See also: ▶Trephination, ▶Ethnobotany
References
Ankli, Anita. Yucatec Mayan Medicinal Plants: Evaluation
Based on Indigenous Uses. Journal of ethnopharmacology
79.1 (2002): 43–52.
Burland, C. A. Peru Under the Incas. New York: Putnam,
1967.
Cichewicz, Robert H. and Patrick A. Thorpe. The Antimi-
crobial Properties of Chile Peppers (‘Capiscum’ Species)
and their Uses in Mayan Medicine. Journal of ethnophar-
macology 52.2 (1996): 61–70.
Classen, Constance. Inca Cosmology and the Human Body.
Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1993.
Cobo, Bernabe. Inca Religion and Customs. Trans. and
Ed. Roland Hamilton. Austin: University of Texas Press,
1990.
Cruz, Martín de la, Bruce Byland, and William Gates. An
Aztec Herbal: The Classic Codex of 1552. Mineola, NY:
Dover Publications, 2000.
Gall, August, Freiherr von. Medizinische Bücher (Tici-Amatl)
Der Alten Azteken Aus Der Ersten Zeit Der Conquista.
Berlin: VWB-Verlag f ür Wissenschaft und Bildung, 1997.
Guerra, Francisco. The Pre-Columbian Mind. London:
Seminar Press, 1971.
Guzman Peredo, Miguel. Medicinal Practices in Ancient
America. Mexico: Ediciones Euroamericanas, 1985.
Huber, Brad R., and Alan R. Sandstrom (eds.) Mesoamerican
Healers. 1st ed. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2001.
Kunow, Marianna Appel. Maya Medicine: Traditional
Healing in Yucatan. Albuquerque: University of New
Mexico Press, 2003.
Lopez Austin. Sahaguns’s Work on the Medicine of the
Ancient Nahuas: Possibilities for Study. Sixteenth Century
Mexico – The Work of Sahagun. Ed. M. S. Edmondson.
Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1974. 205–24.

Lux, Maureen K. Medicine that Walks: Disease, Medicine
and Canadian Plains Native People, 1880–1940. Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, c2001.
Majno, Guide. The Healing Hand: Man and Wound in the
Ancient World. Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1975. Rpt. 1991.
Mendoza, Rubén G. Lords of the Medicine Bag: Medical
Science and Traditional Practice in Ancient Peru and South
America. In Medicine Across Cultures: History and Practice
of Medicia in Non-Western Cultures, Edited by Helaine Selin.
London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2003. 225–257.
Ortiz de Montellano, Bernard R. Aztec Medicine, Health, and
Nutrition. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press,
1990.
Sahagun, Fray Bernardino de Sahagun. A History of Ancient
Mexico. Trans. Fanny R. Bandelier. Nashville: Fisk
University Press, 1932.
Schendel, Gordon. Medicine in Mexico: From Aztec Herbs to
Betatrons. Written in Collaboration with Jose Alvareż
Amezquita and Miguel E. Bustamante. Austin: University
of Texas Press, 1968.
Schultes, Richard Evans. Burning the Library of Amazonia.
The Sciences 34.2 (1994): 24–31.
Medicine of Native North Americans
C LIFFORD E. T RAFZER
American Indian men and women practiced the first
medicine in the Americas, and Native North American
medicine took many forms. Some of the Native medi-
cine ways worked much like modern biomedicine,
but other forms of traditional Indian medicine differed
greatly. The Indian medicine practiced in various
communities was different among the thousands of
tribes, bands, and groups of American Indian people.
Thus, no “generic” Indian medicine ever existed, but
most Native American medicine was holistic and
practiced by men and women who drew on medicinal
plants, prayers, power songs, and experience to heal
people. Indian doctors varied in their approaches to
curing, but most addressed the physical, mental, and
spiritual relationship of humans to the larger world. The
differences between Native American and Western
medicine are important considerations for health care
providers working with First Nations people who often
think differently from non-Natives about disease,
power, spirits, prayers, and the meaning of medicines.
Native North American Indians believe that medi-
cine emerged with the creation of Indian people, and
creative forces gave Native people the first medicine.
Indian medicine took many forms, including spiritual
medicine that entered the world in the form of positive
and negative powers, forces, thoughts, and actions. For
example, among some Indians, such as Navajos and
Apaches, lightning is a positive force that can bring
Medicine of native North Americans 1561
healing, but it is also a negative, harmful force. One
Navajo woman once explained that she had suffered from
a large sore on her thigh, which affected her entire body
and brought her to the brink of death. A “hand trembler”
diagnosed the young woman, explaining that she had
become ill because a few days before her own birth, her
mother had witnessed the awesome power of lightning
that struck and killed an entire herd of sheep. The ill
effects of the lightning manifested themselves in the girl
and nearly killed her. A medicine man among the Diné
(Navajos) performed a Lightning Way ceremony on the
girl, and she lived to tell this story. Her sore disappeared,
and she became hozho or whole, healthy once more.
Indian people brought medicine power with them
from other places or “worlds” where they had once
lived. In the creation stories of many tribes, the people
moved about from one place to another, bringing
with them both positive and negative power that they
placed in the present world where it is still extant.
Sometimes, they used this medicine power to recreate
mountains, valleys, rivers, and lakes. As a result, the
medicine power of former worlds can be found at certain
places in the Americas. Members of some tribes still
make pilgrimages to sacred places to pray and sing,
make offerings, and hold ceremonies. Sometimes tribal
members or medicine people go to these places to gather
plants or collect soil for their medicine bundles, taking
home with them a portion of the sacred earth that once
had been brought here from former lands. Indian people
M
know about these places, their histories, and their uses
through ancient stories and songs. Sometimes, medicine
people repeat these stores and songs as part of con-
temporary ceremonies that link the people of today to the
ancient ones. In a sense, medicine ceremonies link
people with the ancient times, rituals, and medicine, all of
which is part of the healing ways of Indian people.
Thus, creation in American Indian medicine is
critical to an understanding about the way Native
Americans perceive of and use medicine. In addition
to bringing soil from other lands and creating sacred
space, many Native people believe that at the beginning
of time, creative forces set aside certain places on earth
and put healing power at the site. Many believe the
power is still there in caves, rivers, mountains, stone
formations, and other natural occurring places. In the
past medicine men and women – or Indian doctors –
harnessed this power and usually used it to help and
heal their people, although some people could use the
power to harm or kill. This concept of power usage is
common among American Indians today, and it can be
compared to medical doctors and other health officials
using their medical knowledge to heal patients or harm
them, depending on how they use their talents, skills,
and knowledge. The “laws” governing the use of
medicine power among American Indian peoples vary
considerably from tribe to tribe and region to region.
1562 Medicine of native North Americans
But in general, Indian doctors, like Western doctors, are
expected to use their power for the benefit of others, not
to enhance themselves and their place in society.
No discussion of Indian medicine can discuss
adequately the many aspects and ramifications of
Indian medicine, because they vary considerably
among tribes. However, a few shared concepts of
Indian medicine exist in North America. First, people
living within Native American communities – past
and present – believe in unseen forces, powers, or
strengths. The people believe that medicine power
exists everywhere and within everything, animate,
and inanimate. Thus, given the ability to access power,
Indian doctors and others may draw medicine strength
from rock formations, rivers, valleys, mountaintops,
caves, trees, clouds, animals, oceans, fire, and wind.
Indian people believe in such power and doctors
harness the power to cure disease and prevent illness.
The general belief in unseen forces helped Native
American people bridge the gap between Indian beliefs
about disease causation and Western medicine when
Native people first learned about microorganisms that
caused disease. American Indians understood bacteria
and viruses in terms of unseen enemies, like the ones
they had learned about in oral traditions. During the
1940s and 1950s, Navajo nurse Annie Wauneka used
traditional beliefs about invisible power to inform her
people about the tuberculosis bacterium, a new unseen
enemy that had entered their communities.
Second, Native Americans generally believe that all
things in the universe are connected and influenced by
all other things. Just as the moon influences the tides
and the slant of the sun effects the changing seasons, so
does the cosmos influence Indian medicine. Destruc-
tion of a river by a man-made dam can influence
the health of Indian people, and the treatment of one
person by another can also affect wellness within an
entire community. Third, Indian people believe that
their heath and wellness depend on the continuance
of prayers, songs, ceremonies, sacrifices, ritual acts,
offerings, daily actions, and humor. Tribes often direct
prayers for the benefit of the entire universe, not just
their own people, because they are part of an enormous
system. Every tribe has songs intended for the good of
communities and individuals, and medicine people
enjoy medicine songs given to them by unseen powers.
Fourth, Indian doctors are respected within their own
communities and among other Indian groups who
know of the person’s powers and use of medicine. In
English, we refer to these men and women as priests,
medicine people, Indian doctors, chiefs, shamans, and
caciques. Fifth, all of these Indian doctors possess
special medical knowledge and they can communicate
with healing powers, summoning them for help during
curing sessions and ceremonies. They often employ
prayers, songs, stories, and material items such as
feathers, tobacco, sage, sweet grass, pipes, and prayer
sticks during their curing sessions. They have knowl-
edge about these items or instruments of health,
and they know when and how to use them. Sixth,
medicine people have a deep understanding of the
“laws” governing their communities, and they often
interact with patients in discussions to discover the root
cause of physical and psychological afflictions. When
shaman cannot engage in such discussions because of
the patient’s condition or inability to communicate the
problem, then the medicine people use their special
ability to “see” deep within the person’s mind and body
to find the cause of the health problem. Scholars and
contemporary Indians often refer to these laws as rules,
customs, and taboos. Seventh, most Indian people
commonly believe that everything in heaven and earth
has a soul or spirit, because everything is part of
the creation and thus related to everything else. The
Great Mystery, Great Spirit, Creative Force, or God
made all things, and so all things are interrelated and
have power, including medicinal power.
Most American Indian communities would agree
that medicine is interdisciplinary and woven into their
specific cultures in unique ways. The medicine ways
of one tribe or group may not be the same as another
group. For Indian cultures, medicine is integrated into
many aspects of culture, including religion, psychology,
economics, and government. Traditionally, Native
people lived their medicine every day because they
believed it to be alive. Some Native Americans still
think this way. Harmony and balance became the
objective of Indian medicine in most communities in
order to prevent and cure disease. Indians tied Indian
medicine closely with seen and unseen forces that
existed inside humans and throughout the universe,
so that medicine involved the relationship of people
to plants, people, places, animals, celestial bodies,
and other elements of the natural world. For Indian
people “medicine” could bring order and structure to
the cosmos and control the forces, powers, and
strengths that could influence the health of individuals
and communities. In other words, outward forces –
beyond humans – influence sickness and death, but so
did activities of the individual and community. For
example, among the Ajumawe of northern California,
the people believe that only holy people or Indian
doctors can ascend the heights of Akoyet or Mount
Shasta, a sacred mountain that contains within its
peak a basket holding all of the goodness of creation.
If members of the tribe break this “law,”, they
place themselves, their families, unborn children, and
communities in jeopardy of earthquakes, avalanches,
fires, diseases, and death. Among the several tribes
composing the Houdenosaunee, commonly called the

Six Nations of the Iroquois, men desiring to cut a false
facemask from a live tree must complete prescribed
rituals before harming the tree. Otherwise, the health of
the carver and others could be compromised. Accord-
ing to an Iglulik woman named Nanoraq from Baffin
Bay, “The sickness is due to my own fault. I have not
performed my duties well. My thoughts have been
bad and my actions evil.” And Navajo people could
become ill if they shook a tree imitating a bear or by
stabbing a knife into a piece of meat. Both of these
actions by Navajo people could bring on violent
behavior and cause illness among their people. Pima
shaman Juan Gregorio once explained that his people
could become ill if they did not pray properly before
killing an animal, did not handle eagle feathers
correctly, or failed to be respectful to desert tortoises.
Every American Indian community had “laws” given to
them at the time of creation, and they had to obey these
laws or suffer disease, natural calamities, or death.
Bringing individuals and communities back into
balance with the laws occupied some of the duties of
medicine people.
Indian medicine helped control forces that could
harm the people, and it invited the good strengths to
provide the people with abundant harvests, favorable
weather, game animals, long lives, and freedom from
diseases. The medicine offered Indian people social
order, healthy directions, and prevention from illness
in an uncertain world. As a result, Native Americans
elevated the place of medicine into the realm of the
holy and sacred, and those who successfully practiced
medicine earned a special place within every commu-
nity. Different levels of Indian medicine developed
with various names, depending on the group, tribe,
and region. Some medicine people danced, while
others sang, created sacred art, diagnosed, offered
herbal remedies, prayed, or helped conduct ceremonies.
Indian people knew two larger forms of disease.
Communal disease was caused by the transgressions
of community members who did not obey the laws
functioning within the tribes. Traveling disease includ-
ed communicable diseases like measles, mumps,
smallpox, chickenpox, influenza, and others, and was
brought by newcomers. Indian doctors effectively
controlled community disease, but they had a more
difficult time addressing the new diseases that traveled
from tribe to tribe, killing millions of Indian people
after 1492.
Among the Indian tribes of North America, two
larger categories or levels of Indian medicine existed
and still exist today: common medicine and shamanis-
tic medicine – both of which Indian doctors used to
address community based diseases and traveling
diseases. Within most Indian communities, family
elders – particularly women – had a detailed grasp of
Medicine of native North Americans 1563
herbal medicines. Among most Indian communities
of the Eastern Woodlands, elders understood the
medicinal qualities of sassafras root, which they used
to make a tea and prevent and cure colds. The Eastern
people along the Atlantic seaboard also used the fronds
of the white cedar to make a tea that cured scurvy and
relieved some of the painful symptoms of syphilis.
Indian people across the West used creosote branches
to create a tea to relieve sore throats, and they used the
same remedy in larger doses to relieve constipation.
Paiute–Shoshoni elder Dorothy Joseph once stated that
as a child she never suffered from poison oak because
each spring, her mother picked the new leaves of
poison oak and had all her family consume a small
number of the leaves, creating a temporary immunity.
Indian families everywhere knew some of the uses of
plants and how to prepare them properly. However,
some of the elders knew botanical science far better
than others, and they used their in-depth knowledge to
help the people.
Very special individuals among all American Indian
groups practiced another form of Indian medicine
labeled “shamanistic” medicine. Shaman is a term
derived from the Tungus people of Siberia, and in the
twentieth century, scholars have applied the term to
Native Americans. All American Indian languages had
words for different kinds of shamans, medicine people,
or Indian doctors. Several different types of shamans
exist today, just as they did in the past, although their
M
numbers have been reduced over time. Shamans
know herbal medicines as well as anyone within their
communities, but they also know how to diagnose and
cure their patients through spirit medicine. The people
expect shamans to work for the good of the community
and to help restore the balance within individuals,
families, and communities. Most often, Native people
pay for the services of a shaman, and sometimes a fee
is negotiated before the healing takes place. In the
past, families paid for the skills of shaman with trade
items, food, furs, wampum belts, and other items.
Today, this practice continues in some parts of North
America, but more often, people pay Indian doctors in
currency.
While most Indian people learned to appreciate and
understand some aspects of medicine, Indian doctors
had special knowledge of the Native medical field.
Indian doctors became familiar with the unexplainable
light and knowledge of unseen forces, and opened their
minds to receive healing power. They usually gained
such knowledge through prayers, songs, dreams,
visions, and experiences that brought them into a new
realm of understanding and power to heal the sick,
control the weather, find lost objects, prophesize,
interpret future events, and see into the minds and
bodies of their people. Shaman received their power at
1564 Medicine of native North Americans
sacred places away from human habitations, deep in the
forests, within the depth of hot springs, in caves, and on
mountains. They received power at these sites and
converted the powers into energy to heal others. Each
medicine person had his own power or powers. In
the late nineteenth century, a spring and water bugs
gave Wenatchi elder Texanap her power and song,
which became so uncontrollable that as a young
woman, Texanap could not walk. Her father, a powerful
shaman, built five fires, set a post in the middle of
the village, and sang. In a community ceremony,
Texanap controlled her spirit power, used the pole
to stand, and threw her hair into each fire without
it burning. In this way, she gained control of her
medicine power, which she used to heal others.
The first shaman among the Iglulik came forward to
help his people when they were starving because of the
lack of game animals. According to oral tradition, he
traveled to the bottom of the ocean to visit Arnaluk
takanaluk, “the woman down there,”, the controller of
the animals. He spoke with her, pleaded his case, and
asked for animals to visit his people again to save them
from certain death. The mother of marine animals
responded kindly to his request. The animals came to
the people and gave of themselves so that the Iglulik
could survive, and they did. This shaman used his
power to bring the animals back to the people so they
would not die. Indian doctors from other tribes also
helped their people in other unique ways, including an
Indian doctor among the Mojave of western Arizona
and eastern California. He helped his people who were
suffering from a tuberculosis epidemic in the late
nineteenth century. He reported that even before his
birth, he knew he was destined to be a shaman because
he had traveled in dreams to the sacred mountain of
Avekwame to meet the creator and power source,
Kumastahmo. After tuberculosis arrived in the Mojave
villages along the Colorado River, the Indian doctor
dream-traveled to the mountain where he found
Kumastahmo spitting up blood. The creator told the
shaman to suck his chest, and so the Indian doctor did
so, learning directly from the god how to become a
“consumption doctor.”. This technique of sucking out
poison, foreign objects, and negative power found
within a patient’s body is a common technique among
many shamans. The Mojave doctor reportedly could
suck out the disease and destroy it in Mojave patients,
and his story is a unique adaptation of a traditional
medicine technique used on “traveling” or infectious
disease.
Less well known are the smoke doctors who use
tobacco smoke to find illnesses, and breath doctors
who use their breath and labored breathing technique
to open up air and blood blockages in the mind and
body. Without surgery, the breath doctors enter the
body, find blockages, and use their breath to penetrate
the body and remove the objects obstructing the flow
of oxygen and blood. Some doctors also rely on dreams
and trances that take them inside the body where
they locate and destroy disease through thought
energy. Such techniques of Indian doctoring may
seem fanciful to people accustomed to or trained in
Western medicine, and shortly after the arrival of non-
Natives, some newcomers described Indian shamans
as fakes, frauds, and “witchdoctors,”, a representation
that tied Indian medicine to Satan and the occult. For
Indian people, however, many mysteries surrounded
the methods used by their shaman who enjoyed sacred
spiritual medical knowledge. However, most Native
North Americans believed in the medical techniques of
shamans and many still do today.
Wintu shaman Flora Jones of northern California
died recently, but her work is well recorded by Indians
and scholars alike. She earned a positive reputation as
an Indian healer. She used many powerful spirits in
her healing ceremonies, including star spirits, moon
spirits, and mountain spirits. Other powers also came
to her, but she had to order and structure them in order
to travel to the site of the sickness and remove them.
Like some other Indian doctors, Flora fell into a trance
or altered state of consciousness, and spirits spoke
through her to diagnose and establish a plan of curing.
In severe cases, Flora conducted a Soul Dance,
bringing greater power to and through her to help
heal her patient. She had her own healing songs,
procedures, and material items, which she used in her
healing.
In their healing ceremonies, shamans often use a
variety of material items to further their healing rituals,
including feathers, plant pollens, pipes, tobacco, and
other leaves, sand paintings, fans, prayer sticks, soils,
crystals, and other items, depending on their power and
instructions received from helping spirits. The power
vested in these sacred objects also may speak to the
shaman instructing the doctor to use particular herbal
remedies or specific techniques, such as “roasting” the
patient. In this form of treatment, doctors dug holes into
the ground, built fires to heat the area, then covered
the fire with soil and blankets so that the patients could
be buried in the warm pit with their heads above
ground. The patient sat or lay down in the ground while
the doctor sang and prayed, allowing the warmth of
the earth to help the person with blood flow and
reproductive problems. In addition to the warmth of the
earth, the patient received the spiritual security of
the earth wrapped around his body, and some patients
felt a rebirth as they stepped out of the pit.
Some shamans worked their medicine in secular
sites, while other took their patients to sacred places. In
the early twentieth century, Serrano Martha Manuel
stepped on spirit power set out by Cahuilla shaman
Ignacio Ormego who had warned Martha and her

cousin, Vincent Morongo, not to play in the area.
Martha became violently ill and could not speak or
walk; she ran a high temperature. Her family first took
her to Dr. John Evans who placed Martha in a hospital
in San Bernardino, California, but after a few days of
not being able to diagnose her sickness, Martha’s
family took her by wagon to Palm Springs, California,
where pul amnahwet or the highest-ranking Cahuilla
shaman, Pedro Chino, doctored Martha. He lay the girl
in the sun to help expose her illness. Chino used the
power of the hot springs to diagnose Martha’s problem,
which took him considerable time. He found her
sickness in her leg, which he sucked, drawing out a
white worm that he showed to his family before
destroying it. Martha’s fever declined and she gained
her ability to walk. She recovered fully, telling Chino
and her family of Ormego’s warning, and she also said
that during her ordeal, she saw several tiny men dressed
in black suits, all the same person, running about her
leg. The family believes that Martha had seen her
relative Pakuma or Santos Manuel, another powerful
shaman who had died years before.
Among many Indian people of Southern California,
Indian doctoring took place in the Big House or
Ceremonial House, and this is still true in central and
northern California where tribes have active Dance or
Ceremonial Houses. Indian people throughout North
America build special lodges for healing ceremonies,
including the Medicine Lodge for the Sun or Thirst
Dances, tipis for the peyote church, and pole and mat
longhouses for the Nez Perce, Yakama, Umatilla, and
other tribes of the inland Northwest. Navajos use
female hogans for their healing ceremonies, and
the people of the Northwest Coast use cedar plank
houses for healing ceremonies. Other tribes construct
wickiups, log longhouses, kivas, earthen lodges,
wigwams, brush shelters, and other dwellings, creating
a man-made environment or sacred spaces for their
medicine ceremonies and rituals. Nearly all tribes in
North America also used sweat lodges to purify minds
and bodies, a place to invite the spirits to visit, inform,
and heal. Shamans used the lodges and special places
as part of their medicine, drawing on various means
to follow, find, and eliminate the sources of illness.
Generally, Indian doctors learned from others
and pragmatically employed new plants, techniques,
and ideas in dealing with the sick. When they
found that new ways improved the health of their
people, they often adapted and adopted the new
medicine. After the Columbian encounter of 1492,
Indian people throughout the Americas suffered high
death rates because of the lack of natural immunities
to contagious or “traveling” disease brought to the
Native universe. Since Europeans could barely control
diseases, American Indian shamans could not benefit
greatly from the medical knowledge of the newcomers.
Medicine of native North Americans 1565
However, contact with the newcomers helped medicine
men and women understand more about infectious
diseases and to fear the spread of epidemics. Indians
in some parts of North America became more familiar
with Western medicine after the United States and
Canada established forts in Indian country where
medical doctors first interacted with some Indian
patients. Varying numbers of Indian people sought
relief of their ailments from medical doctors. Some
doctors, like Washington Matthews among the Navajo
and James Walker among the Lakota, learned well
from Indian people and their Indian doctors. Others
denigrated Indian doctors, referring to them as quacks
and charlatans. Still, by the late nineteenth century,
Indian and non-Indian medicine began to converge,
most often with Indians listening and learning about
infectious disease causation and spread.
In 1879, the United States created its first off-
reservation boarding school at Carlisle, Pennsylvania,
where children became ill and died of infectious
diseases, especially measles and tuberculosis.1 As part
of the curriculum at Carlisle and other Indian schools,
students learned the cause and prevention of tubercu-
losis, particularly about the importance of isolating
people known to have the disease. Through lectures,
slide presentations, and pamphlets, students learned
about diseases, and they took their knowledge home to
share with their people. During the late nineteenth
century and early twentieth century, Indians living on
M
the reservations of Canada and the United States
suffered greatly from tuberculosis, measles, influenza,
smallpox, chickenpox, mumps, trachoma, accidental
deaths, and a host of gastro-intestinal diseases. These
diseases also ravaged the Native populations of Mexico
and the other countries of Latin America. In the United
States, the Office of Indian affairs had a medical
division that relied on a few medical doctors often
contracted to conduct part time work with Indians. In
Southern California during the 1880s and 1890s, for
example, the Indian office hired one medical doctor to
serve thousands of Indians from the Chumash villages
surrounding the Santa Barbara region east to the
Colorado River and south to the Mexican border.
Neither the Congress nor the Indian Office funded
Indian health, and in Canada, the federal government
often contracted missionary doctors to serve Native
1
The horror of the Carlisle and other Indian schools is not
dealt with in this article, but we urge the reader to read more.
See Jessica Enoch, “Resisting the Script of Indian Education:
Zitkala Ṧa and the Carlisle Indian School.” College English
65.2 (2002): 117–142. See also Clifford E. Trafzer, Jean
Keller, and Lorene Sisquoc, eds. Boarding School Blues.
Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, forthcoming 2006.
1566 Medicine of native North Americans
populations. Thousands of Indians died as a result, in
spite of the heroic efforts of traditional medicine men
and women as well as some medical doctors.
National reforms focusing on Indians during the
1920s and 1930s led the United States and Canada to
direct more money to Indian health and the high
mortality – including high infant mortality – caused by
tuberculosis. Medical personnel also tackled trachoma,
often resorting to radical grattage (scraping the eyes
with a stuff brush) on Indian patients. Both countries
hired more doctors, established more hospitals, and
built sanatoria for Indian patients. Both countries also
hired public health nurses who became the front line
forces of Western medicine, treating Indian people on
reservations, reserves, and remote regions of the Arctic.
From the 1920s to the 1970s, field nurses traveled
thousands of miles each year in automobiles, hydro-
planes, dog sleds, wagons, horseback, and on foot to
visit reservation populations. Like the teachers in
boarding schools, they taught people to identify signs
of tuberculosis. Nurses isolated Indian patients, drove
Indians to hospitals, conducted clinics, informed
mothers at “well baby clinics,”, directed Indians to
X-ray screenings, and visited families on nearly all
the reservations. Their efforts may have influenced the
decline of Indian deaths caused by tuberculosis in the
late 1930s and early 1940s, before the Indian offices
began to use antibiotics in its treatment of tuberculosis.
The Office of Indian Affairs did not provide Indians
in the United States with high quality medical care as
stipulated by treaties and the laws of Congress. In 1954,
the Public Health Service took over the duties of
providing Indian medical care through the Indian
Health Service. The change proved significant to
Indians in the United States, as the Public Health
Service provided far better care than the Indian Bureau.
Still, Indian health lagged behind that provided to most
Americans, Canadians, and Mexicans. In both rural and
urban areas, Indian people continue to suffer high
infant mortality rates and deaths caused by infectious
diseases. However, after World War II, a new trend
emerged within Indian communities as more Indians
began dying of man-made degenerative diseases such
as heart disease, cancer, kidney problems, and
complications due to type 2 diabetes, alcoholism, and
suicides. Although health services for Indians im-
proved during the late twentieth century, few Indians
received first-rate medical care, and most still do not.
However, the emergence of high stakes gaming among
some tribes has made it possible for some Native
Americans to buy their own health insurance and for
tribes to partner with highly skilled physicians and the
top medical institutions to offer tribal members better
medical care. In 2003, Loma Linda University Medical
Center, one of the nation’s leading medical research
institutions, launch a new American Indian health and
wellness center and is currently working closely with
the Chinook of Shoalwater Bay in Washington state,
Shoshoni–Paiute of Fallon, Nevada, and Chemehuevis
of the Twenty-Nine Palms Band. Although the Indian
Health Service continues to play the significant role in
Indian health today, the new partnerships of Indian
nations with medical institutions and physicians shows
great promise to improve the health of Native
Americans throughout North America.
Today medicine among most Native Americans is a
combination of traditional Indian medicine and Western
medicine. While most Indians consult Western doctors
and nurses and use hospitals, they continue to view
disease, health, and medicine much like their ancestors.
Shamans still perform healing ceremonies in many parts
of Indian country and Indians still use common
medicine taught to them by elders. Some Indians believe
that the combination of Indian and Western medicine
will lead to “new medicine” that relies on medical
sciences and spirit medicine, particularly the power of
prayer and material items taken from the earth.
References
Bahr, Donald M., Juan Gregorio, David I. Lopes, Albert
Alvarez. Piman Shamanism and Staying Sickness. Tucson:
University of Arizona Press, 1974.
Beck, Peggy, Anna Lee Walters, and Nia Francisco. The
Sacred. Tsaile, Arizona: Navajo Community College
Press, 1995.
Joe, Jenny and Dorothy Miller. American Indian Cultural
Perspectives on Disability. Tucson: Native American
Research and Training Center, 1987.
Locust, Carol. American Indian Beliefs Concerning Health
and Unwellness. Tucson: Native American Research and
Training Center, 1986.
Lux, Maureen K. Medicine That Walks: Disease, Medicine,
and Canadian Plains Indian People, 1880–1940. Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 2001.
Murillo, Pauline Ormego. Living in Two Worlds. Highland,
California: Dimples Press, 2001.
Rasmussen, Knud. The Intellectual Culture of Iglulik
Eskimos 7. Copenhagen: Report of the Fifth Thule
Expedition, 1930.
Trafzer, Clifford E. Death Stalks the Yakama: Epidemiologi-
cal Transitions and Mortality on the Yakama Indian
Reservation, 1888–1964. East Lansing: Michigan State
University Press, 1997.
---. American Indian Prophets. Sacramento: Sierra Oaks,
1986.
Trafzer, Clifford E. and Diane Weiner eds. Medicine Ways:
Disease, Health, and Survival Among Native Americans.
Walnut Creek, California: Alta Mira Press, 2001.
Vogel, Virgil. American Indian Medicine. Norman: University
of Oklahoma Press, 1970.
Weiner, Diane. Luiseno Theory and Practice of Chronic
Illness Causation, Avoidance, and Treatment. Ph.D.
Dissertation. Los Angeles: University of California,
Department of Anthropology, 1993.

Medicine in Native North and South
America
Å KE H ULTKRANTZ
“Medicine” is an ambiguous word in American Indian
connections. The first European missionaries and
settlers learned that in the aboriginal languages the
word corresponding to medicine could also be translated
as supernatural power. A “medicine man” could be a
man who healed a human being, but also a kind of a
miracle man who through his connections with the
supernatural world of gods and spirits was able to
prophesy the future, locate lost articles or persons, bring
on rain, attract game animals, call on the spirits, escort
the newly dead to the other world, and many other
things. In short, he was, and still is, a mediator between
humankind and the spiritual world. It is through his
equipment of supernatural power that he can cure the
sick. In this article medicine will be understood as
the way of curing and as a medicament, except in the
compound medicine man, which will retain its old
composite meaning. The role of the medicine man in
curing will be further elucidated below.
All medical measures depend upon the ideas of the
character of the disease. Slight injuries and mild diseases
are not interpreted so much in terms of supernatural
agencies at work, but dangerous diseases – or diseases
considered to be dangerous – are mostly referred to
supernatural intervention. Ghosts, unknown spirits,
disease demons, witches, or taboo infringements are
supposed to be responsible for cases of illness. The
supernatural causation is a consequence of the fact that
the basic harmony between humankind (or parts of
humankind) and the sacred Universe has become
upset. Prayers and propitiatory rituals may enclose all
kinds of healing procedures but are more common
where more grave diseases are concerned.
Whereas the supernatural element in curing is clearly
present in the serious cases of disease and damage,
natural knowledge plays a dominant role in the curing
of ordinary wounds and diseases. Medicine men and
women could relieve the pain and remove the diseases
of this latter kind, but it was also common for old men
and women to take care of them, at least in North
America. These old people who had learned their
medical arts during a long life and furthermore had
particularly observed the traditional healing systems of
the tribe, to a large extent used herbal medicines. They
could, therefore, be called herbalists. It is not too much
to say that herbs, for external or internal usage, were the
most common medical cures in aboriginal America.
There were many different kinds of treatments. In
Algonquian New England the colonists found that
Medicine in native North and South America 1567
people who had been scalded had their sore skin washed
with a strong decoction of tobacco, and thereafter a
powder made from dried tobacco was sprinkled on to the
wound. More to the south, in North Carolina, seeds of
Datura were used for the same purpose. Bleeding was
arrested with spiderwebs in large parts of North
America. James Adair, who was a well-known trader
among the Southeastern North American Indians in the
latter part of the eighteenth century, reports that every
Cherokee carried a variety of herbs and roots such as
snake-root and wild plantain in his shot pouch as a
remedy for the bites of poisonous snakes (Adair 1775).
The Indian chewed the root, swallowed a part of it, and
applied another part to the wound. After some pain and
contortions the man was relieved of the poison. Here we
see how everybody was his/her own doctor.
From the same area the well-informed anthropolo-
gist Swanton (1928) reports that the Creek drank a
cold decoction of “Devil’s shoe-string,” or catgut
(Tephrosia virginiana), to relieve themselves of bladder
trouble. They also boiled the roots of sassafras
(Sassafras officinalis) into a hot drink to get rid of
bowel and stomach ache. Sassafras seems to have been
a health medicament wherever it occurred. Venereal
diseases were also cured with herbal decoctions.
Herbalism was a subject in Aztec schools, and some
herbalists were even examined in the priest schools, the
Calmecac. They were known for their empirical
approach to health. Ortiz de Montellano (1989) writes
M
that “the efficacy of Aztec wound treatments has been
validated, as well as their accurate knowledge of the
physiological activities of plants. Their extensive
ethnobotanical knowledge and accurate taxonomy
indicates that herbals may have existed and were
taught in school, although no genuine pre-Columbian
herbal has survived.” As the same author points out, it
would, however, be wrong to postulate a distinction
between empirical and supernatural knowledge among
the Aztecs, for “good doctors also included those who
used mixed therapies and psycho-religious techni-
ques.” In this respect the old Mexican doctors remind
us of North American medicine men.
In South America herbalism is mainly thought of as
a medical subfield of the medicine man. Herbalist
specialists among the Araucanians might know up to
250 medicinal plants. Ackerknecht (1949), an authority
on South American Indian medicine, has next to
nothing to say about herbalism there. He points out,
however, that such measures as massages, drugs, baths,
bloodletting, diet and enemas do occur, and are
“objectively effective.” At the same time, the causation
of such diseases, indeed, all diseases, is supernatural,
he claims. Another expert, Métraux (1949), insists
that “light and common ailments and the sicknesses
introduced by the Whites often were regarded as
natural and were treated with drugs rather than by
1568 Medicine in native North and South America
shamanistic means.” He admits, however, that most
diseases were attributed to supernatural causes. It is
obvious that these questions have not been satisfactori-
ly investigated. Several works indicate that herbalism
was very widespread in South America, but whether
there were – and are – herbalists who could be classed
as inspirationally initiated medicine men is not clear.
A herbalist is, as seen in this article, a person who
primarily deals with herbal medicine for internal or
external usage. Secondarily he or she also handles
stimulant drugs, emetics, and, in some cases, surgical
operations. In North America the peyote (Lophophora
williamsii), a cactus growing in the vicinity of the Rio
Grande, is supposed to cure all kinds of diseases when
eaten, drunk, or smoked. Peyote is hallucinogenic but
not narcotic; it is not habit-forming. A particular Peyote
religion was formed at the end of the nineteenth century
and spread over large areas of North America. The
taking of peyote against disease occurs frequently in
individual cases. In the cultic connections peyote is
consumed because it gives supernatural blessings,
including a medical cure. Peyote is powerful for many
purposes, not just for medicine, although the medical
reasons have been strongly supportive in the diffusion
of the Peyote religion. It is very possible that other
“herbs” have also had such a general effect because of
their supernatural qualities. In South America narcotic
beverages such as the ayahuasca prepared from the
plant genus Banisteriopsis and the decoctions of
Datura arborea are used in or after shamanic curing
séances. Also here the drugs are active because of their
spiritual force, and not because they have a specific
medicinal content.
Some drugs have been favored since they have
emetic qualities. In both North and South America
poisonous or impure substances in the body are
expelled from the mouth via emetics (and from the
rectum via cathartics). The most well-known emetic is
prepared from a particular holly, Ilex vomitoria, that
grows in the southeastern part of North America. This
drink, called “black drink” by the Whites because of
its color, but “white drink” because of its supposed
purifying qualities among the Indians of the Southeast,
contains caffeine. Drunk in large quantities it provokes
violent vomiting. This emetic was taken as a brew to
produce purity before social and religious ceremonies –
as ritual sweat baths in other areas – and in connection
with diseases. The disease belonged to the impurities
that were removed through the black drink.
There are some reputed cases of surgery in the old
days; however, amputation seems to have been scarce.
Scarification occurred in many places in North America.
Thus, according to Frank Speck, the northeastern
Algonquians tried to relieve pain by creating an exit
for it. Skull surgery, or trepanation, is mentioned
from both Americas. Some scholars have tried to find
rational reasons behind such operations – head injuries,
unconsciousness, and so on. Since they were performed
in pre-Columbian times it is impossible to get a definite
answer. However, it seems more in conformity with
American Indian thinking to presuppose an animistic
model of explanation: the surgeons wanted to relieve the
sick person from the spirit that plagued him. The most
common method was, however, to put some herb or bark
on the wound or over the aching area.
If there is much uncertainty concerning the ideas of
etiology and the nature of the healers in herbalism,
there is more certainty of the medicine men and their
disease ideology. As stated above, the medicine men
and women, or those medicine men and women who
are doctors, function as such when through their own
or other healers’ inspiration it can be stated that the
disease is of supernatural origin. The medicine person
was chosen by his/her guardian spirit to conquer the
malign spiritual influence behind the disease. His or her
healing is dependent upon the power with which he/she
was entrusted in the course of his/her calling.
The supernatural aspect of religious causation can
mean many things, for instance, that witches on
account of their supernatural powers, or sorcerers
because of their magical manipulations, upset the
normal health of individuals. Or it can mean that
transgression of tabooed places or actions, displeasing
of the powers, or imbalance in the cosmic harmony
cause the same result. Sometimes spirits and divinities
introduce disease and wounds without any apparent
reason. The immediate outcome of this supernatural
line of action may be intrusion into a person’s body of
objects or spirits (which could be the same thing since
objects may be inanimate manifestations of spirits, or
instruments of spirits), and the loss of the soul which
may be wandering around, or has been stolen by some
witch or some spirit(s), usually the spirits of the dead.
In the latter case the lost soul may be taken to the realm
of the dead from which it is difficult for the medicine
man to retrieve it and take it home. The soul entity that
has been lost is usually a separable soul, mostly the
free-soul, or the soul that sometimes distances itself
from the body in dreams and trances. As long as the
soul of vitality or, where it exists, the ego-soul remains
with the body, the individual is alive; where all the
souls (usually two souls, the free- and the body-soul)
remain with the body the person is also alive. This is
the general program, but many exceptions from this
rule have been found among North and South
American tribes.
There is a particular tendency among Native
Americans to distinguish two definite systems of
diseases behind the two causation theories. When the
“intrusion” diagnosis is resorted to attention is directed
to the body and its diseases. We can say that the
patient’s physical pain conducts the doctor. In “soul

loss,” however, it is the sick person’s mental state
that stands in focus. His intellectual power fades away,
fever or absent-mindedness rule, he languishes away,
loses his consciousness, and so on. Scholars have until
fairly recently tried to show that intrusion was more
common in America, and therefore is an older
diagnosis, whereas soul loss has had a more spot-like
distribution and is therefore a younger diagnosis. As
will soon be seen, the latter diagnosis corresponds to
more difficult healing procedures. However, the more
field research has proceeded the more cases of soul loss
have been discovered. The present distribution of
diagnoses confirms the generalization made here. Of
course, in some regions we find intrusion as the
dominating complex, in others, soul loss. But the
presence of both diagnoses – for different types of
disease – seems to be the original pattern. In our days
soul loss is missing in many places, but the memory of
its application by capable medicine men some decades
ago is living.
In some places, for instance among the Navajo, the
decision of the nature of the disease is left to particular
diagnosticians who, in an inspirational state, are
capable of finding out the roots of the disease. A
serious disease to them is always referred to as being a
break with the invisible world and its spirits; the
diagnosis is never concentrated on the biological state
of the individual, but on the acting spiritual forces.
Among the Navajo the disease means that the afflicted
person has fallen out with the balance and harmony of
the Universe, so he has to be reintroduced by being
identified with the supernatural powers in nocturnal
rituals of up to nine nights. The officiant is a sacerdotal
singer, not the diagnostician. The former could be
termed a priest, the latter a shaman.
Shaman is a Tungusian word denoting those
medicine men who perform their services in a trance
or ecstasy. The word has since the eighteenth century
become a technical term for medicine men who
communicate with supernatural beings in states of
trance. The Natives in America rarely have a term for
differentiating shamans from ordinary medicine men;
usually a shaman is said to be a stronger healer than
others. Shamans occur, or have occurred, over most
areas in America. The large majority of them, but far
from all of them, handle diseases. When the recovery
demands contacts with or intervention from supernatu-
ral powers, the shaman appears on the scene in order to
meet these powers in a trance situation.
All medicine men, shamans included, receive their
doctor’s powers through inheritance, spiritual calling,
or vision quest. In the question of inheritance it is often
possible to see who is going to become a doctor; he or
she has a nervous psychic constitution or is reminiscent
of a deceased medicine man. In South America it is not
uncommon for a doctor to transfer his profession to his
Medicine in native North and South America 1569
own sons or nephews. The calling of the spirits is more
or less attached to the inheritance idea since the
guardian spirits of a shaman try to find his successor in
the same family. In The American Great Basin,
California, and Gran Chaco are areas where shamans
are called by the spirits. Sometimes this calling follows
very aggressive lines, for instance, among the Mapuche
of Southern Chile. Vision quests are used in the areas in
eastern North America where ordinary individuals also
seek guardian spirits in order to procure their powers
and their protection. Shamanic spirits are stronger and
more specialized in healing than other visionary spirits.
The acquisition of spirits is connected with fasting and
several days’ staying out in the wilderness with the
dangers of climate and wild animals. In South America
the candidate smokes strong cigars and consumes
ayahuasca wine in order to attain shamanic ecstasy.
The novice also joins a medicine man school, or an
experienced older shaman, in order to learn shamanic
procedures and tricks.
The medicine man heals the patient partly through
herbalism and partly through suction, blowing, mas-
sage, and wafting with feathers, to remove the disease
object or disease spirit. In South America the medicine
man may attain some degree of ecstasy by drinking
ayahuasca, whereupon he blows thick clouds of
tobacco into the patient’s mouth. The disease object –
an arrow, a dart – is sucked out by the medicine man
and then regurgitated by him. In both Americas the
M
medicine man often produces a little thing that he
claims to have sucked out of the patient and that is
supposed to have caused the disease.
In cases of soul loss the healing procedure is often
more difficult and more dramatic. Let us, however, first
of all state that the usual background of soul loss, the
serious change of consciousness, in some places can
be healed without too much difficulty on the part of
the acting medicine man. Thus, sometimes the soul
may be called back by the medicine man, or sought by
him and his associates in the neighborhood of the camp
or village. According to Karsten (1955), the Jivaro
Indians at the sources of the Amazon River know no
remedy for fever diseases but destroy their own villages
and leave them, apparently in the belief that not soul
loss, but attacks of disease demons have hit the
patients. In North America, for instance among the
Yuma, it happens that soul loss is cured through
blowing and suction, a proof that the intrusion model
of disease diagnosis has formed a general curing
pattern here.
The most common cure of soul loss is that the
medicine man – who in this case operates as shaman –
sinks into a trance to transgress the boundary between
this and the other world. In North America this entrance
into ecstasy is mostly brought about through autosug-
gestion and drumming, and in South America narcotics
1570 Medicine in native North and South America
such as tobacco and ayahuasca effect the same state.
The shaman’s soul, and in some cultures his guardian
spirit (it also happens that he is transformed into his
guardian spirit) then departs on the long road to the
land of the dead. Sometimes he manages to catch up
with the fleeing soul and can then return it to its owner.
If however the soul of the sick patient has reached the
land of the dead, the shaman has to risk his own life by
seeking the fugitive soul in that realm and trying to
persuade it to come back with him. In such cases the
shaman has to fight violently with the mass of the
departed who want to retain their newly arrived
visitor. Usually the shaman wins the struggle and brings
the patient’s soul back home. He presses the soul against
the patient’s head or some other place, and after a short
while the patient wakes up again. The shaman, who in
most cases has been lying down as if he were dead
during the soul journey, now also comes back to life.
Sometimes many shamans cooperate in a ritual
drama in a so-called imitative shamanistic séance. An
example of the latter is the voyage of shamans in a
symbolical canoe to the land of the dead among the
Puget Sound Coast Salish. The medicine men are
equipped with boards which represent a canoe and
paddles and act out the events of the voyage: the
hardships on the journey, the battle with the dead, the
release of the imprisoned soul, and its transporting
home. Here it is not the question of a deep trance, but a
dramatic performance in the inspired state of an actor.
Collective medical contributions are also given in
some agricultural societies, such as the Pueblo societies
in New Mexico and Arizona. They have curing
organizations constituted of people who have once
been ill and healed by the same organizations. Animal
spirits, so-called Beast gods, are the patrons of the
medical societies among the Zuni Pueblo Indians. The
societies are specialized in curing particular diseases,
and use the methods adopted by medicine men healing
patients suffering from “intrusion” diseases.
See also: ▶Religion and Science, ▶Ethnobotany
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Medicine in Oceania
C LUNY M ACPHERSON
Accounts often portray ‘indigenous’ or traditional
medicine as a culture-bound set of knowledge and
practice, rooted in superstition and indigenous religion,
which will eventually be displaced by a more powerful
scientific biomedicine (Strathern and Strathern 1999).
A study of traditional medicine in Oceania (and
probably anywhere else) reveals that it is, in fact, a
dynamic body which routinely incorporates new forms
of medical knowledge, material and practice which
have been shown to be effective, and which, in the
process, becomes progressively more useful. The
extent of this incorporation is often missed because
its practitioners soon come to regard innovations as part
of tradition, and because users often assume that since a
traditional healer dispenses the medicine it derives
from some indigenous medical repertoire. This makes
it difficult to reconstruct traditional medical knowledge.
It is, however, possible to reconstruct the trajectory of
the incorporation and to identify the sources of new
knowledge and the circumstances in which it occurred.
In the Oceanic case, the late introduction of Western
illnesses and medical knowledge, and the circum-
stances of their arrival, have meant that scientific
biomedicine is considered a useful adjunct to, rather
Medicine in Oceania 1571
than a replacement for, traditional medicine and the two
systems sit alongside one another as complementary
elements of a healing system.
Some 5,500 years ago, people moved out of South
China and, along two routes, into Oceania. Descen-
dants of the original settlers moved steadily eastward,
pausing only briefly while they developed the naval
architecture and navigational knowledge to make the
steadily longer voyages between ever more scattered
easterly islands possible (Goetzfridt 1992). They
eventually settled the furthest reaches of the last
uninhabited region on earth with voyages to Aotearoa
(New Zealand), Rapanui (Easter Island) and Hawaii
some 900 years ago.
The path, progress and timing of the settlement of
the Pacific have been confirmed by oral history, and
by steadily growing volumes of linguistic, archaeolog-
ical (Kirch 2002), anthropological (Kirch and Green
2001) and, more recently, DNA evidence. Studies of
voyaging and navigation techniques and, more recent-
ly, a series of voyages in replica sailing vessels (Finney
1988) have confirmed that the required journeys could
have been made with available nautical knowledge and
technology, and have dispelled the earlier view (Sharp
1957) that these were accidental or drift voyages.
Findings of ongoing research in each of these fields
confirm this theory of easterly settlement and typically
refine dates or clarify processes. There are now
accepted explanations for the presence of the few
M
elements which led to consideration of the possibility
that Oceania had been settled from South America.
On the surface at least, it should be possible to trace
continuities in the knowledge and practices of the
settlers. There was little which would have been
expected to transform established knowledge and
practice as the explorers moved from west to east.
The settlers, who were agriculturalists, carried a
limited range of cultigens and technologies necessary
to farm these. Beyond what is now New Guinea, they
encountered no other peoples on their way eastward,
and settlement occurred within a restricted range of
terrestrial (Muller-Dombois and Rapaport 1999) and
marine ecosystems within a relatively limited range of
latitudes. Once settled, the Oceanic settler societies
were only infrequently visited and then, typically,
by Oceanic neighbours. This situation persisted until
European explorers reached the region some 2,500
years later and limited the external influences on these
Oceanic cultures. Despite thousands of years of
separation, similarities are evident in the lexica of the
Oceanic languages, and these have been recognized in
the designation of an Austronesian language family
(Pawley 1999). There is also evidence of the passage of
some cultural traits from west to east, and explanations
of why these might have taken various forms in
different places (Kirch 1989; Kirch and Green 2001).
1572 Medicine in Oceania
Yet despite that, there is little evidence of the passage
of a body of medical knowledge and practice from
west to east.
That does not, however, mean that there was not a
body of Oceanic medical knowledge and practice, but
rather that it was not documented at contact, which
had more to do with the worldviews of those who were
in a position to record it. The earliest traders and
missionaries typically dismissed the knowledge of
indigenes as insignificant, and as artefacts of a
worldview which they sought to modify or replace.
By the time better educated missionaries and settlers
became interested in documenting indigenous knowl-
edge, much of what had existed had been either lost,
transformed by, or fused with the introduced world-
views with which it had collided. Introduced material
and beliefs had found their way into traditional
medicine and, in some cases, even the practitioners
were unaware of the extent of these incursions.
It has, as a consequence, become difficult to
reconstruct the autochthonous medical knowledges of
Oceania. There are numerous studies of traditional
practices in contemporary Pacific societies (Feinberg
1979; Connell 1980; Parsons 1985; Whistler 1985,
1992, 1996), but few comprehensive reconstruc-
tions of pre-contact Pacific medical knowledge and
practice. One exception is Samoa (Macpherson 1985;
Macpherson and Macpherson 1990) which lies near the
geographical centre of Oceania. This case is significant
because of Samoa’s place in the settlement of Oceania,
and because it provides some insights into the dynamic
nature of traditional knowledge.
Samoa was settled some 3,500 years ago, and a
distinctive society developed over some 1,000 years
before the bearers of this culture set out to settle the
eastern reaches of Oceania. This case is culturally
significant because Samoa lies at the boundary of
Eastern and Western Polynesia, contains elements of
western Polynesian culture, and is widely acknowl-
edged as the birthplace of eastern Polynesian cultures.
From the point of view of cultural reconstruction,
Samoa is also significant. By the time European contact
and settlement occurred in Samoa, there was more
systematic interest in indigenous knowledge and
practices, and a more comprehensive record, from
authors with diverse personal and professional inter-
ests. These provided a more reliable basis for historical
reconstruction. This study is used here as the basis of
an account of what might have existed in Oceanic
societies.
Samoans referred to health as soifua mālōlōina
which means “life rested” and refers to a form of bio-
social equilibrium.1 It embodies the idea of balance in
1
It was also referred to as la’oifua, or “to be recovered from
sickness”, and in the language of chiefs, as laumālie.
relations between individuals, the social entities to
which they belonged, the physical environment
in which they lived, and the supernatural realm within
which all humanity existed. An individual exists at the
intersection of a number of related realms. These
linkages were called va and had to be consciously
maintained, teu, by individuals who wished to maintain
good health. Such relationships were ideally balanced
and reciprocal, or fealoa’i, which implied mutual
respect of rights and obligations which attached to
related roles. This balance existed when norms of
conduct for people in related roles were observed.
Health was attained, and maintained, when a person
attended to his or her relations with others and with the
spiritual agencies, atua and aitu, which controlled
human activity. An ordered society is one in which
relations between the realms were in a form of
equilibrium and is known as one in which relationships
are balanced, va fealoaloa’i.
Conversely, ill health occurred where people vio-
lated the norms and rules of social and spiritual
relations. Ill health was the consequence of offences
against either social or supernatural agencies and the
causes of everything from physical trauma to mental
illnesses were sought in these areas of social and
supernatural relationships (Turner 1983). These gods’
influence was so pervasive, and their powers so
extensive, that they were held to be the principal
authors of all human illness. Gods generally created
illnesses to punish people under their protection for a
lack of appropriate respect or for acts of meanness to
them. Various people, known as taulāaitu or taula ole
aitu, or anchors of the spirits, acted as mediums and
identified social and supernatural sources of an illness
(Moyle 1974). In the case of supernatural causation, the
medium sought to identify the offended spirit or god, to
clarify the cause and offer the appropriate form of
conciliation.
In other cases, offended living persons could call on
another class of gods, known as taula-aitu-vavalo-ma-
fai-tu’i, to make the offender ill. The resulting illness
could take several forms, and the form gave some clues
to the nature of the offence which, in turn, focused
enquiries on people who might have committed it.
Where social offence was suspected, a process of
systematic enquiry led eventually to the offended
person who had engaged in the sorcery which had
created the illness, and to the form of social activity
which would lead to its removal. This consisted of
incantations directed at the identified spiritual agencies
(Moyle 1974). Only when these causes were identified
could the process of intervention commence, and
only when this was completed and accepted, could
relationships be restored.
The focus of activity in each case involved the
identification of the relationships which had been

disturbed, and the activity necessary to teu le va or heal
the relationship. In most illnesses, the human body was
simply the site in which the offended party had sought
to demonstrate their displeasure. To complicate mat-
ters, the person who became ill was not always the one
who had caused the offence, and so diagnostic inquiries
had to extend to the conduct of those around the victim
in case this person was a surrogate.
The level of agreement on an essentially social
intervention process in the writings of a range of early
observers of Samoan society was unexpected: tradi-
tional models of physiology, aetiology and epidemiolo-
gy, an extensive, and apparently thriving, body of
plant-based medicines and forms of massage are in use
in contemporary Samoa (Macpherson and Macpherson
1990). This paradox led to consideration of the
possibility that those who documented it were led by
their religious and social agenda to focus on these
elements of practice,2 and to overlook either acciden-
tally, or deliberately, other elements of Samoan medical
practice. However, an examination of both religious
and a number of secular authors’ works suggested that
there were only very rudimentary indigenous models of
human anatomy and physiology and little in the way
of biomedicine. Early missionary authors, such as
Dr. George Turner, who sought information on
medicinal uses for Samoan plants, reported that
relatively little medicinal use was made of the local
flora and fauna (Turner 1983). This was confirmed by
other missionaries, and surprised them as they were
themselves regular users of herbs and simples.
Comprehensive and well-regarded dictionaries com-
piled by early missionary linguists (Pratt 1862)
contained extensive lists of flora and fauna but few
terms for medical implements or procedures, and
few annotations of medicinal plant uses. Relatively few
indigenous terms or concepts relating to human
physiology or biology were discovered by these
linguists. Early plant collections contained extensive
notes on various practical uses of plants, but little
evidence of medicinal uses (Powell 1868). Compre-
hensive studies of Samoan material culture located no
implements used in medicine (Hiroa 1930).
This finding was remarkable, given that there is an
extensive traditional knowledge and thriving traditional
practice, and that Samoans make regular use of both
traditional knowledge and practitioners, and flora and
fauna in their search for health (Macpherson 1985;
2
These missionaries were dependent on their supporters in
Britain for the resources for the mission. Their records and
tracts tended often to focus on areas of activity which showed
the enormity of their task of conversion and which generated
the most interest and most generous support on the part of
British congregations.
Medicine in Oceania 1573
Macpherson and Macpherson 1990; Whistler 1996,
2000). The finding raised the issue of how missionaries
and other settlers, who had so assiduously documented
other areas of Samoan life, could have missed a body of
traditional medicine.
One possibility canvassed was that the medicinal
material and knowledge was, for various reasons, not
revealed to early missionaries. Other forms of sacred
knowledge, such as navigation, had been hidden from
visitors to Oceania (Lewis 1972). In this case, the
missions had sought to undermine belief in Samoans’
traditional gods, and had ostracized those who had
expressed continued support for them. The close
association between the family and village gods and
health and illness might then have been systematically
hidden from missionary eyes by those who sought to
retain their affiliation with the mission. This does not
appear to be the case. Missionaries, who lived on
mission stations with numbers of Samoans, were well
placed to obtain this information but did not, and
secular settlers who lived close to the Samoans
(Pritchard 1863–1864; Pritchard 1866) also found little
evidence of an extensive indigenous medical knowl-
edge and practice. They were able to obtain information
on and document a range of other sacred practices, and
did so in the belief that their activity would be more
successful where missionaries understood Samoan
culture. Nor is it clear that Samoans were as completely
dominated by missionary power as this explanation
M
requires. At the turn of the nineteenth century, Samoans
were reluctant to share medicinal knowledge, not out of
fear of the missionaries, but out of suspicion that others
might use it. The German naval physician, and pioneer
ethnographer, Dr. Augustin Krämer, reported that
Samoan healers would not share their knowledge with
him because they believed he might expropriate it and
incorporate it in his own medicine (Kramer 1994: 134).
Another, and more likely, possibility is that Samo-
ans, living in relative isolation in the middle of the
Pacific Ocean with few disease vectors, suffered a
relatively limited range of recurrent illnesses (Kramer
1994). Those could be adequately explained by a
paradigm which placed more emphasis on the social
and supernatural causes of illness, and rather less on the
biological and physiological ones. This seems proba-
ble: Samoans lived in that archipelago for some 2,800
years until European contact occurred in the late
eighteenth century. During that time, and after an
epidemic which followed a visit by an Oceanic
neighbour, Samoans prayed daily to deities to prevent
‘sailing gods’ from landing, and physically repulsed
those who sought to land to prevent further epidemics
(Turner 1983; Stair 1983). The presence and absence of
illness could be explained by reference to humans’
relationships within social, natural and supernatural
realms. In the circumstances, there was no need for a
1574 Medicine in Oceania
paradigm which systematically linked illness to
biological vectors and or physiological processes.
This would also explain why in a relatively short
period, between the early nineteenth century and the
present, Samoans incorporated new medical ideas and
practices which are now widely regarded as traditional.
If this is indeed so, the Samoan case demonstrates that
traditional Oceanic medicine is not static but dynamic,
and is constantly expanding as new materials and ideas
become available and are incorporated. The problem
then becomes one of explaining the conditions under
which an indigenous medical paradigm might expand
and of identifying the factors which might influence the
shape of the neo-traditional paradigm.
The commencement of contact between Samoans
and people from beyond the archipelago provided a
motive to rethink the pre-existing paradigm. Contact
resulted in the immediate introduction of new diseases
which struck indiscriminately at a population with little
resistance or immunity to them (Macpherson and
Macpherson 1990: 54–58). Ironically, the isolation
which had produced the relative epidemiological
stability before contact (Kramer 1994) had prevented
the Samoans from developing immunity and ensured
that each of the illnesses introduced between 1830
and 19183 would have significant impacts on Samoan
society. Traditional aetiological and epidemiological
models could not explain the new forms and patterns of
illness. This inadequacy led Samoans to seek new
explanations for the new experiences.
The growing frequency of contact with visitors and
settlers from beyond Samoa also provided opportunity
to expand their models of illness. Settlers from Britain,
Germany, the United States, Australia, New Zealand,
visitors from elsewhere in the Pacific, indentured labour
from Melanesia, and later, from China took up residence
in increasing numbers just as the Samoans’ new health
problems were emerging. Bearers of new models
provided the knowledge necessary to augment the
Samoan explanations and, in some cases, new material
and practices to expand their medical repertoire.
Some of this knowledge transfer was deliberate.
The missions sought to undermine polytheistic
Samoan religion by providing alternative explanations
for illnesses. This involved, ironically, persuading
Samoans to replace many gods who caused and healed
their illnesses with a single one with similar powers.
But not all missionary effort was driven by a religious
agenda. The London Missionary Society, in an attempt
to provide comprehensive theological education for
Samoan missionaries, translated and published works
on zoology and biology including, in 1886, a 330 page
tome entitled, O le Tala i Tino o Tagata ma Mea Ola
3
The 1918 influenza pandemic resulted in the death of some
23% of the population of Western Samoa.
eseese: e iai fo’i o tala i manu ua ta’ua I le Tusi Pa’ia
which is, literally, an account of the bodies of people
and various animals and of animals mentioned the Bible
(Powell 1886). The manual was provided to pastors
who were encouraged to use the information to improve
the quality of their teaching. The missions may not have
fully appreciated the ways in which Samoans would
use the explanations in these to supplement, rather than
supplant, their own earlier ones. Some other manuals
found even wider readerships.
But their efforts were duplicated by those concerned
with public health. In 1912, Cottle, the Health Officer
at the US Naval Station at Tutuila, translated a health
care manual for school children in American Samoa
entitled, O le Tusi e a’oa’oina ai i le Tausiga o le
Soifuaga o Tagata Samoa, sub-titled Health Care
for Samoans (Cottle 1912). A final, and influential,
example was the comprehensive 1937 work by Downs
and Turbott entitled, Health for Samoans (Downs and
Turbott 1937). It was subsequently translated by Drs
Ielu I’iga and Atimalala Mama as Maloloina Mo
Samoa or Health for Samoans, in a text which
contained side-by-side translations of the original
material. The Samoan language version was widely
distributed to upper school students, teachers, native
medical practitioners (NMPs), nurses, and women’s
health committees in villages and copies are still found
often in the possession of healers and others. From the
time that new health problems confronted the Samoans
they had access to a series of texts which opened up
new ways of thinking about the human condition and
managing illness.
Not all health knowledge transfer was deliberate.
Some transfer was incidental and occurred as Samoans
observed and availed themselves of the health
practices of those who increasingly lived among them.
Missionaries and others noted that Samoans were very
interested in the visitors’, often experimental, use of
herbs and simples, particularly since they had access to
the power of an omniscient and omnipotent god, to
whom Samoans expected them to turn for remedies for
their illnesses.
Some transfer was deliberate. Early in the twentieth
century, the German administration and the US Naval
Administration sought to reduce the costs of adminis-
tering their Samoan possessions by training Samoan
paramedics to minister to Samoans. Similar programs
were later extended by the New Zealand Administra-
tion in Western Samoa. The training programs were
based at hospitals and graduates were given medical
kits, texts and basic equipment. The Samoans em-
braced the programs and villages often sent for training
people who had shown a disposition for healing. These
were often traditional healers, known as fofo or foma’i
samoa, who on graduation returned to their former
practice with an expanded medical repertoire.

The availability of new knowledge led to the
expansion of both explanations and treatments. For
instance, the highly influential teachings of Christian
missionaries taught that an omniscient and omnipotent
God could and would bestow on faithful followers the
ability to heal. The gift of healing, given to Jesus and
later to his apostles, and demonstrated in a series of acts
in a sacred text, which rapidly became central to the
Samoan worldview, was also available to the faithful
and was, arguably, more powerful than other forms
of human intervention. This led to the early incorpora-
tion of the belief that the most devout Christians
might receive god-given healing powers, and of such
practices as prayer, singing and fasting into Samoan
healing.
From the mid-1800s, Samoan pastors became central
in the missionary activity as the mission sought to
convert the peoples of western Oceania. Samoan
pastors trained in Samoa and served with distinction
in Western Polynesia and Melanesia. In the mission
fields, they were often left to their own devices, and
became in many cases dependent on their congrega-
tions for food, shelter and medicine. There, and
particularly on high islands with abundant flora and
fauna and often separated from support, they became
familiar with a range of local medicinal plants and
learned local uses for plants. The Samoan pastors, duty
bound to eradicate heathen practices, tended to ignore
forms of intervention which invoked supernatural
agency and to focus instead on plant-based medicine.
These practices and the associated plants were often
repatriated at the end of their mission service, and are
now found so widely in Samoa that they are supposed
to be indigenous. It is not unusual to come across
gardens of introduced plants from Melanesia in
Samoan villages, and to find that their medicinal value
and uses were originally acquired by missionary
relatives who had served in those regions as much as
a century earlier. This may explain why some Samoans
assume that the plants and their medicinal uses are
indigenous. This trend is evident in the steadily
growing range of medicinal plants documented in
Samoa. The ethnobotanist, Whistler, for instance noted
that of 59 plants used in Samoan medicine, about 53%
were native, 30% were Polynesian introductions and
17% were recent or European introductions (Whistler
1992: 64), and that similar mixes were found in the
Tongan islands to the south.
Despite white colonial administrators’ attempts to
prevent it, fraternization between the Samoan, Chinese
and Melanesian populations occurred during the first
half of the twentieth century (Shankman 2001; Field
1984). Intermarriage and cohabitation made the
medical knowledge and practices of these groups
available to Samoans with whom they lived. Melane-
sians, who also came from high islands with similar
Medicine in Oceania 1575
flora and fauna, extended the Samoans’ appreciation of
medicinal indigenous flora, and there are cases where
the Melanesian origins of contemporary Samoan uses
are marked linguistically and or acknowledged by
those who use them. However, it is also true that the use
of certain Melanesian practices connected with sorcery,
and known as fa’alauatau, was banned by missions.
Medical concepts and practices also undoubtedly
derive from Chinese medical models used by the
2000 plus Chinese labourers who worked in Samoa,
some of whom later married into and lived in Samoan
society. Again, the Chinese origins of some contempo-
rary medicinal ideas and practices are marked linguis-
tically and or acknowledged by practitioners who use
them. It is, however, impossible to establish the exact
extent of these influences since only systematic
questioning of those who know of the origins of their
practices could determine this. In some cases, informa-
tion on origins, which is not usually central to competent
healing, has simply been lost in transmission.
The practice of incorporation continues. As Samoans
have become more mobile, and despite increasing
biosecurity measures at Samoa’s borders, new plants
are regularly introduced, established and soon
incorporated into traditional medicine. The dynamic
nature of Samoan medicine is not always apparent to
Samoans since most patients seek relief and do not
routinely ask their healers about the origins of either the
plants or practices in use. Contemporary practitioners
M
do not always know the origins of knowledge and
practices which were incorporated into traditional
medicine two or more generations earlier. Occasionally,
the source of plants is marked linguistically, as in ‘ava
fiti, ‘ava toga and ‘ava niukini which distinguish
varieties of Piper methysticum from Fiji, Tonga and
New Guinea, respectively, but this is often not so.
However, systematic inquiry about exotic plants can
yield interesting material on sources of exotic plants
and ideas in use in traditional Samoan medicine where
these are known. A Samoan rigger who had worked in
Papua New Guinea in the 1970s and had hunted pigs
with local tribesmen, had brought to Samoa a plant
used by hunters to relax cramped muscles. He had
given the plant and instructions for its use to his
mother’s sister who had incorporated it in her
repertoire. A Samoan Mormon missionary had brought
back to Samoa a plant from New Mexico used as a
nasal decongestant by native Americans which is now
in use in her mother’s sister’s practice in Samoa.
Nor is the incorporation confined to plant materials.
A number of traditional medicines are prepared in
different strengths for babies, children, adolescents and
older adults, respectively. This practice, a healer
explained, derived from the filariasis eradication
program carried out in Samoa in the 1960s on which
she had served as a liaison person. She explained that
1576 Medicine in Oceania
the connection between body mass and dosage was
obviously effective and she had subsequently adopted a
variant in her own practice.
The Samoan case offers evidence of two other forms
of medical dynamism. Several studies have pointed
to the declining use4 of certain plants where either
the plants become scarce, or other more efficacious
materials and treatments have become available
(Macpherson and Macpherson 1990; Whistler 2000).
Whistler, for instance, reports that of the 130 plants
which have had medical usages reported for them, only
some 84 are currently in use, and that of the latter group
some are now used by only small numbers of healers.
Other plants, however, have been found in an extended
range of medicines. Significant numbers of the plants
recorded by Kramer at the turn of the twentieth century
are now used in a wider range of medicines. In these
cases, new uses are sometimes the consequence of
experimentation and, more commonly, of a growing
awareness of alternative uses as a consequence of
contact. Unusual uses of particular plants in some
healer’s repertoires were usually tracked to the
presence of migrants from either Asia or the elsewhere
in the Pacific, and occasionally, to the practice of
western-trained medical professionals who recom-
mended readily available local plants as effective
alternatives to more expensive imported medicines.
This search for new ideas and practices has not,
however, led to the abandoning of pre-existing models,
which have, after all, served Samoans well over some
3,000 years of residence, but rather to their augmenta-
tion. The new illnesses, which were determined to be a
distinct category of illnesses, and the property of the
visitors, became known as ma’i mai fafo, sicknesses
from outside, and included ma’i papālagi, the illnesses
of Europeans, ma’i saina, the illnesses of Chinese, ma’i
meauli, the illnesses of Solomon Islanders. Their
diagnosis and treatment required additional medicinal
knowledge which was supposed to be possessed by
those who had brought them. Just as Samoans were
supposed to be familiar with the causes and manage-
ment of ma’i Samoa or ‘Samoan illnesses’, the visitors
were supposed to be familiar with the nature and
management of these new illnesses. The people who
brought the diseases were supposed, by the Samoans,
to be well-versed in their management, and versions
of visitors’ explanations and management became
incorporated into augmented Samoan models of illness
4
The empirical evidence must be considered carefully,
because of the difficulties of accurate sampling of the usage
of plants in healers’ repertoires which is compounded by the
difficulties of doing longitudinal comparisons where plant
names change over time. However, anthropological studies
routinely reveal the dynamic nature of the process and
Whistler’s ethnobotanical work is the very best available for
Samoa.
and management. This meant that there was no obvious
reason to establish empirically which, if any, of the
available medical paradigms was more effective than
another. This way of thinking about illness and its
management opened the way for the co-existence of
a set of complementary medical paradigms which
continues today.
In these circumstances, there is no obvious reason
why healers would not continue to expand traditional
medicine or for patients to discontinue the use of
traditional medicine since its use does not prevent them
from using other forms of treatment where this may
appear appropriate.
This case, outlined in greater detail elsewhere
(Macpherson and Macpherson 1990), shows that
Pacific indigenous medical systems need not be
unchanging, culture-bound paradigms which depend
solely on cultural and religious logics for their power.
They can be dynamic systems in which both knowl-
edge and practice are routinely augmented as observa-
tion and experience of new models and practices
suggests additional and more effective ways of
approaching health. It also suggests that attempts to
reconstruct truly indigenous medical knowledge and
practice in such circumstances confront real problems.
Because of the ways in which the sources of these
ideas, materials and practices are constantly expanding,
and because these are incorporated into traditional
medicine without drama it becomes difficult to tell
which part of today’s traditional medicine was
yesterday’s introduction.
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Medicine in Sri Lanka: Traditional
Medical Knowledge, Its History
and Philosophy
A RJUNA DE Z OYSA , C. D. PALITHARATHNE
A Framework for Medical Histories
The study of Sri Lankan history recognizes four distinct
periods (Bandaranayake 1990) from prehistoric times
(ca. 125000 BCE) to a proto-historic era, when settled
agriculture and Iron Age technology began. The
historical period begins with the growth of advanced
irrigation systems for food production and the surplus
created by this results in the emergence of a flourishing
civilization centered on cities such as Anuradhapura,
Sigiriya, and Pollonnaruwa in the north central
province. These city-centered civilizations spanned
a period of one and a half millennia, from around
300 BCE to 1250 AD (De Zoysa and Palitharatne
M
1992). From 1250 AD onwards one sees a number of
“centrifugal” tendencies, with fragmentation of cen-
tralized power to the periphery. With the arrival of the
Portuguese (sixteenth century), a period of colonization
by European powers followed and ended only after the
Second World War. Modern Sri Lanka was heavily
influenced by this colonial period (ed. note: see the
article on Colonialism and Medicine in Sri Lanka).
From Proto-Histories to Civilizational Periods
Living evidence of conditions in the pre- and proto-
historic periods exists among the Veddha community,
an indigenous people who retain most of their hunter–
gatherer past even today (Spittel). The Veddhas
possessed sufficient medical knowledge for their
survival needs. They had knowledge of medicinal
plants to treat wounds and used python fat for fractures.
They practiced exorcism, which is still practiced today
and reputed to have great value in an appropriate socio-
cultural context. There is however no evidence of any
attempts to build a connected knowledge system out of
these curative practices, and their life spans were short
(Sagara 1995).
With the coming of the city-centered civilizations
(ca. 300 BCE), there was rapid development in all
fields of knowledge. Historical information of this
1578 Medicine in Sri Lanka: Traditional medical knowledge, its history and philosophy
period is derived from several sources (Bandaranayake
1990; Uragoda 1987):
1. Written material, which was recorded on Ola leaves.
The Mahavamsa a collection of historical informa-
tion, is such an example (Guruge 1989);
2. Rock inscriptions at religious and archaeological
sites;
3. Artifacts and buildings from archaeological sites.
A reasonable picture of what constituted medical
knowledge in Sri Lanka during this time can be derived
from these sources (De Zoysa and Palitharatne 1992).
By the end of the proto-historic period, curative
medicines and practices were locally found and
available, but it was probably not until the early
historic period that Āyurveda and Siddhi (Classical
Indian) and Unani (Classical Middle Eastern) systems
were extensively used and integrated with local
regional (Deshiya Chikitsa) practices or folk practices.
Āyurveda forms the major practice of traditional
medicine in Sri Lanka. The well-known texts on
Āyurveda such as the Carakasam . hitā and the Suśru-
tasam. hitā were known and read in Sri Lanka from
before the historical period. The Arkaprakāśa an early
book on Āyurveda, supposedly written by a king,
Ravana, is still available (Buddhadasa 1960). The
Carakasam . hitā refers to a legendary conference on
medicine held in the Himalayas (ca. 6000 BCE), where
a number of Rishis (meditating recluses), worked out
the fundamentals of Āyurveda in consultation with
divine beings. The Rishis are named, and one of them,
Pulasthi, was from Sri Lanka, an emissary of Ravana
who was supposed to have returned with the principles
of medical knowledge to Lanka (Buddhadasa 1960:
1–2). Āyurveda was probably first introduced to
Sri Lanka during the time of king Ravana.
Āyurveda had the character of a well-connected
knowledge system (De Zoysa and Palitharatne 1992).
There were for instance sections describing fields
similar to surgery, toxicology and ear, nose and throat
diseases. The Suśrutasam . hitā, a book on surgery from
India, describes 121 surgical instruments (Pilapitiya
1982), many surgical practices using them, and
dissections on dead bodies for surgical practice.
Surgical procedures show knowledge of the infective
power of microorganisms too small to be seen by the
human eye. The underlying paradigms of Āyurveda
were very different from biomedicine and form a
powerful alternative to such a system.
During the city-centered historic period, extensive
state sponsorship was given for medical practice and
science. Some kings, such as Buddhadasa (fourth
century), Aggabodhi (eighth century) and Parakrama
Bahu (twelfth century), were actual practitioners and
scholars of Āyurveda. The Mahavamsa records the
existence of hospitals (Guruge 1989), dispensaries and
medical halls during this period, and archaeological
excavations are supportive of these claims. Medical
practice at this time was in line with Ayurvedic
practices; as such it would have been comprehensive,
covering both preventive and curative measures which
extended even to the care of animals.
With the decline of the city-centered civilizations
one sees the emergence of a number of regional centers
of administration around the sea port cities such as
Kotte, Jaffna and in the hill country Kandy. Although a
large body of medical knowledge was preserved and
passed down through generations, no notable achieve-
ments were recorded during this period (De Zoysa and
Palitharatne 1992).
The Colonial Period to Modern Times
Colonial conquests started with the Portuguese in 1505
and continued for nearly four and a half centuries. This
period saw also the rapid growth of modern science in
Western Europe and its introduction to Sri Lanka by the
conquering colonial powers, in particular the British.
Both the Portuguese and Dutch had a great respect
for local medical knowledge and used it at times to treat
even their own sick and wounded (Uragoda 1987). The
Portuguese are reputed to have used local knowledge to
cure dysentery and snake poisoning among soldiers.
They did however reject culture-bound practices such
as exorcisms on religious grounds. The Dutch, who
captured the coastal towns from the Portuguese in the
seventeenth century, are credited with building many
hospitals in Sri Lanka (Uragoda 1987), where herbal
medicines were used alongside drugs imported from
Europe. Towards the latter part of the eighteenth
century they even appointed “native” physicians
proficient in Āyurveda in all their hospitals. During
the Dutch period there was a brief renaissance in the
study of traditional medicine. King Narendrasinghe
(1707) translated a thirteenth century palm-leaf manu-
script, the Bhesajja Manjusa, on medicine and was also
responsible for compiling a Vattoru Vedapotha, a book
of traditional medicinal prescriptions. Paul Hermann,
a surgeon attached to the Colombo hospital, was
interested in botany; he was at that time in contact with
Linneaus and sent collections of local plants to him. It
is said that Linneaus used these as part of his famous
plant classification (Goonatilake 1985).
The British colonial period in Sri Lanka started from
1796 and lasted 150 years. During this period the rapid
industrialization of Europe and North America and its
domination of the rest of the world took place. Not
surprisingly, Western medical science was introduced
and it established a dominant position in Sri Lanka.
Āyurveda and traditional medicines were generally
 Medicine in Sri Lanka: Traditional medical knowledge, its history and philosophy
discouraged under British rule and the colonials learnt
little from it. There were however notable exceptions.
Sir Henry Blake, a British Governor in Sri Lanka,
translated parts of the Suśrutasam . hitā using Buddhist
scholars; he claimed in a lecture delivered to the Royal
Asiatic Society in 1905 that malaria was recognized as
a vector borne disease (Uragoda 1987). This was never
accepted in Europe, but it is difficult to envisage how
an irrigation-based civilization flourished if it did not
understand even the causative mechanisms of such a
devastating disease like malaria. Another notable
exception was the establishment of a College of
Indigenous Medicines in 1929 with state sponsorship.
These instances of support were however, very much
the exception.
In spite of heavy state support for Western allopathic
medicines and the marginalization of traditional
practices, the latter survived and were used by a
majority of people; even the urbanized middle classes,
who were heavily “westernized” in outlook, continued
to use them. What were the reasons which made these
traditional systems of medical knowledge so resilient?
We will in the following text investigate the world-
views behind the two knowledge systems of Āyurveda
and allopathy (biomedicine). To do so, we will first
touch on some developments in the philosophy of
modern science.
A Philosophical Note
The term incommensurable first introduced by Kuhn
(1970) and later developed by Feyerabend (1978)
refers to the impossibility of comprehending a theory
“A,” based on a paradigm “A,” by using concepts and
terminology of a theory “B” based on a different
paradigm “B.” By paradigm we mean,
On the one hand it stands for entire constellation
of beliefs, values, techniques, and so on shared by
the members of a given community. On the other,
it denotes one sort of element in that constellation,
the concrete puzzle – solutions which, employed
as models as models or examples, can replace
explicit rules as a basis for the solution of the
remaining puzzles of normal science.
Numerous examples can be taken from the history of
science itself as evidence for incommensurability
between theories. Relativistic and Newtonian physics
form two of the best-known examples. In Newtonian
physics, mass, time, and energy are observer-indepen-
dent entities, existing in absolute space. In relativistic
physics, they depend on the relationship between
the observer and the observed, have no fixed value
and lose all absolute meaning. In fact the concepts
are so radically different that the use of the same
1579
words – “mass,” “time,” etc. – leads to confusion.
A student used to years of reference to “Newtonian
mass” finds it difficult to comprehend and adjust to
“relativistic mass.” Perhaps it would be easier to make
the gestalt switch if different terminology were used.
Werner Heisenberg (1952) provides a rather striking,
but less well-known example of incommensurability.
Heisenberg shows the almost total incommensurability
between Newton’s and Goethe’s theories on color.
Newton’s theory of color was mechanistic, precise and
with later modifications proved to be useful for all
kinds of practical purposes. Goethe’s theory of color
was based on symmetry and complimentarity. Its
purpose was very different from Newton’s; it described
a sensory world of color which was relevant and proved
useful for aesthetic purposes.
Differing Worldviews
The worldviews or broad paradigms on which the two
medical knowledge systems are based are different and
incommensurable. The ontology of classical Western
science takes for granted the existence of subatomic
particles which form atoms, and these arrange
themselves into chemical compounds growing in
complexity to form organic molecules and hence life.
In Vedantic philosophy, material form is described by
five fundamental attributes, the Pañcamahābhūta.
These attributes can be understood metaphorically by
M
use of commonly encountered substances, such as Air
(motion), Water (fluidity), Earthiness (solidity), Agni
(fire), or energy in thermal form and Voidness (or
emptiness). The above list of metaphors exhausts the
discourse on materiality, and there can be no further
additions to this particular classification. One can only
go for an alternative form of classification which
may contain as many as 12 properties. The substance-
based element theories in modern science are different.
They refer to “elements” which exist “out-there” in
material form. The discovery of additional elements to
the original 92 is therefore expected. It is important
to realize this difference; as the foundational base
of Āyurveda is unchanging, its pharmacopoeia and
curative techniques are dynamic. Health in the human
body in turn is described as a balance between three
metaphoric properties, known as the tridos.a: Vata,
Pitta and Kapha. The substance metaphors for these
are often given as Air, Bile, and Phlegm. These
metaphors should not be mistaken to mean the same as
these actual substances. However, a Kapha imbalance
would lead to a preponderance of phlegm in the body.
These properties in turn are connected to conditions
in the natural environment, age and disease. The
knowledge system is thereby connected as a whole.
A superficial understanding of this could lead to
1580 Medicine in Sri Lanka: Traditional medical knowledge, its history and philosophy
“fuzziness.” With the modern focus on quantitative
exactness and reductionism many prejudicial view-
points could result, if one views these ancient sciences
with a simplistic lens. In understanding these concepts,
language itself is an impediment, as they are difficult to
translate. A proper understanding can only be derived
by an appropriate gestalt switch from knowledge
system “A” to knowledge system “B” (De Zoysa and
Palitharatne 1992).
Let us examine the paradigms underlying the theory
of disease causation in the two systems.
In Āyurveda, there are four reasons for disease:
Aganthuka (external factors such as injuries), Sharirika
(Physical), Manasika (mental), and Swabhavika (natu-
ral, such as old age, hunger, thirst). Disease itself is
defined as contact with dukkha (Pilapitiya 1982). The
meaning of dukkha is very comprehensive and includes
unsatisfactory physical as well as mental states, both
temporary and permanent. Negative emotions such as
anger and jealousy are considered to be disease states.
We can at once see why such a system has to deal with
both physical and spiritual treatments. Āyurveda
recognizes the existence of microorganisms, however,
the main causative factor lies in an imbalance within
the human body. Using such a theory, it would be easy
to explain the occurrence of influenza and to adopt
preventive measures against it. Cold temperatures,
moisture, food described as cooling, all enhance Kapha,
leading to an imbalance, which makes the body sus-
ceptible to a viral invasion. Person “A” may contract it in
autumn and not in summer and so forth. The virus after
all presents itself constantly, but it is only sometimes and
only some people who are affected. The tridos.a–vada
of balance and imbalance can be thought of as a
comprehensive theory of resistance and susceptibility
to disease. Its real benefits lie in disease prevention.
There is also the recognition of Kamma (karma; ethical
acts), either done in this life or in a previous life, which
impact on disease. In fact if negative Kammic effects
are dominant (Kamma Roga), special acts are specified
to nullify these before or during medical treatment
(Buddhadasa 1960: 63–64). In the Carakasam . hitā
there are diseases mentioned which cannot be cured
by clinical means alone. It is said that people who think
that one is born purely by the coming together of
man and woman are supposed to have limited vision
(Buddhadasa 1960: 337). The worldviews between
allopathy and Āyurveda are thereby fundamentally
different.
In South Asian traditional systems, the emphasis is on
health, not disease; the re-establishment of a diseased
body to health is extensively dealt with. The cure in
biomedicine might sometimes be worse than the disease.
For example some chemotherapies and radiation treat-
ments for cancers could be worse than the cancer itself
and might lead to a disabled existence or death for the
treated person. In South Asian medical processes such
“cures” are no “cures” as they do not lead the patient’s
body to health. Much could be learnt from the practice of
Āyurveda, and a reasonable cross fertilization of
knowledge systems could be beneficial to all.
Ayurvedic medical treatment is considered to be
both a science (Shashtra) and a craft (Shilpa). The
practitioner takes a personal interest in the patient and
ethical norms are built into the very development of the
Shashtra. For instance, animal experimentation is not
allowed in Ayurvedic research.
On Validation
I will here use a particular example which brings the
problem of validation into sharp relief. The double-
blind test for the efficacy of drugs is a special case of a
control widely used to determine the solely physical
effects of drugs. In Āyurveda we find a category of
herbal medicine known as Khema, in which a “wanted”
physical component interacts with the “unwanted”
psychological action. A Khema is always accompanied
by an intricate story of its origin, and ritualistic
preparations are used before administration. The
patient is made to believe in these, and although the
herbal medicine has a physical effect, its value is
substantially enhanced by psychosomatic interactions.
The two effects may not be separated out and studied,
because in general their interaction is nonlinear,
affecting the whole human body rather than the merely
diseased parts of it. A double-blind test would be
irrelevant in such a case (De Zoysa and Palitharatne
1992). Validation of Ayurvedic efficacy should be
taken as a whole treatment regime, and validation is
a process, not a single medicine, which in any event
is a Sanyojanaya (compound mixture) and not a
chemically extracted active ingredient.
Quantification in classical systems is personalized.
For instance Āyurveda gives three major measures –
Anguli, Anjali, and Matra – with reference to the
patient’s body size (Balasubramaniam 2005). In the
Western medical system measurement is with reference
to abstract quantities. This difference means that any
validation of classical medicines should be quantified
accordingly.
The Future
Both Ayurvedic and Western medical practice claim to
rest on a firm “scientific” basis. These claims are only
partly true. The practice in a number of cases does not
flow naturally from a theory based within a broad
paradigm. In a Kuhnian sense, we cannot say that both
are fully “mature sciences” flowing from broad
generally accepted paradigms of theory to practice.
There are many practices and medicines, in both

Western and Ayurvedic systems, which are used simply
because they work. Some times ad hoc practices which
do not deeply penetrate the respective knowledge
systems are used. Vaccinations were used in Europe
for smallpox long before any theory of immunity had
been accepted as a specialist discipline. Smallpox
inoculation is mentioned in the ancient Indian text,
Atharvaveda, and was practiced in Ancient India by
introducing “inoculated pustules of the previous year”
to healthy persons (Pilapitiya 1982). Again it is
unlikely that Ayuvedic theory prompted such treat-
ments. Treatment of many common ailments, such as
back pain, is treated on a “try and see” basis in
biomedicine, and often the patient knows what course
of action would be best for him. Many other examples
can be taken to show this disjointedness between
theory and practice in both systems (De Zoysa and
Palitharatne 1992).
Western medical scientists interested in creative
work have a fertile field in traditional systems of
medical knowledge. They can learn much from the
history of Western science itself, in particular from its
major creative periods, to develop an openness and
methodology for fruitful cross-fertilization of knowl-
edge with traditional knowledge systems. A healthy
respect for alternative knowledge systems would be a
liberating force for science.
See also: ▶Medicine in India: Āyurveda
References
Balasubramaniam, A. V. Walking on Two Legs, Seeing with
Two Eyes. Presentation at the Conference on Traditional
Knowledge, Aug. 2005.
Bandaranayake, S. Notes on a Lecture on Stages of Historical
and Technological Development in Sri Lanka. Colombo:
Institute of Engineers Sri Lanka, 1990.
Charaka, Samhita and Trans. To Sinhala. Ed. R Buddhadasa.
Sri Lanka: Govt. Press, 1960.
Dash, Vaidya Bhagwan. Fundamentals of Ayurvedic Medi-
cine. New Delhi: Bensal & Co., 1978.
De Zoysa, Arjuna. Differing World Views in Āyurveda and
Bio-Medical Science. Proceedings of the Annual Session
of the Institute of Biology, Sri Lanka, Sept. 2002. 33–8.
De Zoysa, A. and C. D. Palitharatna. Models of European
Scientific Expansion: A Comparative Description of
“Classical” Medical Science at the Time of Introduction
of European Medical Science to Sri Lanka, and
Subsequent Development to Present. Science and Empires:
Historical Studies about Scientific Development and
European Expansion. Ed. Patrick Petitjean, et al. Dodrecht:
Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1992. 111–20.
Feyerabend, Paul. Against Method. London: Verso, 1978.
Feyerabend, Paul. Science in a Free Society. London: Verso,
1982.
Goonatilake, Susantha. Aborted Discovery. London: Zed
Books, 1985.
Medicine in the Talmud 1581
Guruge, A. Mahavamsa: The Great Chronicle of Sri Lanka.
Colombo: Lake House, 1989.
Heisenberg, Werner. Philosophical Problems of Nuclear
Science. New York: Pantheon Books, Inc., 1952.
Jung, C. G. The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious-
ness. Trans. Ed. R. F. C. Hull. Vol. 9, Part 1. London:
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1959.
Kuhn, Thomas. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970.
Pilapitiya, Upali. Āyurveda. Nawinna, Sri Lanka: Ayurvedic
Research Ins., 1982.
Sagara, Kusumaratne. Folk Medicine Among the Sinhalese.
Colombo: Mahima, 1995.
Science of Three Humours (in Sinhala). Colombo: Sri Lanka
Āyurveda Department, 1985.
Spittel, R. L. Wild Ceylon. Colombo: General Publishers,
1970, 1945.
Uragoda, C. G. A History of Medicine in Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka
Medical Association, 1987.
Medicine in the Talmud
S AMUEL S. K OTTEK
Although whole books have been devoted to the study
of talmudic medicine and quite a number of studies to
specific related topics, only a small number of scholars
in the field of medical history are aware of this rich M
corpus of knowledge. The core of the Talmud (the
authoritative body of Jewish law and tradition), called
Mishnah (divided into six tractates), was compiled
between the second century BCE and the second century
AD. Two extensive commentaries and glosses were
added to the basic text. One is the so-called Jerusalem
Talmud, which was completed in the fifth century AD.
The Babylonian Talmud, which was much larger, was
sealed in the sixth century. No medical texts from the
ancient Hebrew–Jewish period have reached us, so the
wealth of medical knowledge that is interspersed in
the Talmud is the sole source of documentation in these
matters. It should be made clear that these medical data
are recorded by talmudic scholars in the midst and for
the sake of legalistic discussions. In most cases few
details are provided and only those that are relevant to
the specific point under consideration.
The spectrum of medical knowledge covered in the
Talmud is very wide. The field of anatomy (mainly
of animals) is impressively represented, particularly in
the tractate H. ullin which deals with dietary laws. The
inspection of slaughtered animals is one of the
remarkable institutions of Jewish law, as it related to
public health. In order to decide whether an animal was
acceptable for consumption (kasher) or not (taref ),
anatomy and pathology had to be mastered to a
considerable degree. Two examples will be given here.
1582 Medicine in the Talmud
The number of bones is considered in the context of
uncleanliness: it is ruled that everything contained in a
tent (or room) in which there is a number of bones
amounting to more than half of a corpse becomes
unclean. The body is comprised of 248 bones (it says
“members,” evarim), corresponding to the number
of days of the lunar year, and 365 “sinews” (gidim)
corresponding to the solar year [bab. Makkot 23b]. The
Talmud mentions that once research was done on the
corpse of a young female prostitute who had been
executed by the (Roman?) authorities, and it was found
that there were 251 bones. The Sages opined that the
discrepancy was due to the fact that this was a young
woman [bab. Bekhorot 45a]. Another opinion was that
the number of bones may vary from 200 to 280
[Tosefta, Oholot 1: 7]. Osteology was not very exact,
even in “academic” medicine. Galen speaks of “more
than 200 bones” [De Form. Foet., Bk. 6]. Interest-
ingly enough, Ibn Sīnā (Avicenna) and al-Zahrāwī
(Abulcasis) both accepted the number 248, most
probably in accordance with the lunar analogy and
the macrocosmos/microcosmos similarity.
The second example is related to neuroanatomy. The
case history featured a lamb which dragged its hind
legs along, and the question was, “What kind of lesion
does it have?” One sage said, “This is a case of sciatica”
(Hebr. shigrona). Another replied, “Possibly this is
a lesion of the spinal cord” (Hebr. h.ut ha-shedrah).
The text then says, “They examined it (i.e., they
performed an autopsy), and the second diagnosis was
authenticated.” This shows a remarkable experimental
approach. The sages decided that if an animal dragged
its legs it would be said to have sciatica, and such an
animal would be permitted for consumption [bab.
H.ullin 51a]. This is a very typical example of talmudic
casuistry. The sages not only allow, they even advocate
thorough examination of the case, but the decision is
based on the opinion of the majority and on the most
frequent occurrences.
The Talmud, in both versions, is full of observa-
tions of medical and historical interest pertaining to
internal medicine, gynecology and obstetrics, derma-
tology, neuropsychiatry, surgery, traumatology, and
most other specialties (including otology, ophthalmol-
ogy, and dentistry). Other fields such as dietetics,
preventive medicine, forensic medicine, public health,
and materia medica are also widely represented. Instead
of listing a catalog of items, we shall give a number of
examples that stand out for their detailed description
and/or for their originality.
Commenting on the scriptural verse [Deut. 7: 15]
which reads, “And the Lord will take away from thee
all sickness…,” the Talmud asks the question, “What is
sickness?” A number of answers are provided by the
Sages in both versions of the Talmud [bab. Baba Mezia
107b; jer. Shabbat 14: 3]. In both versions we find three
cardinal causes of diseases. One pertains to scientific
medicine: the bile; one is related to popular medicine:
the cold (or cold-and-warm); and one belongs to magic
lore: the evil eye. Other agents that appear only in one
version include: air (or wind); fever; abnormal or
superfluous secretions; climatic factors (the sharav
wind); obsession (one who is persuaded that he is sick),
and carelessness (which is particularly stressed, thus
enhancing the preventive aspects of medicine). Two
other factors are mentioned elsewhere in the Talmud.
One is blood (i.e., plethora): “At the head of all (causes
of) diseases am I, the blood” [bab. Baba Bathra 58b].
The other is changes in one’s habitual way of life
[ibid. 126a]. Another version mentions changes in
one’s usual diet [bab. Kethubot 110b]. This particularly
developed topic is characteristic of talmudic lore, as
it includes popular beliefs, empirical notions, and
scientific aspects. Humors (blood, bile), specific
symptoms (fever), environmental causes (winds, cold),
magical aspects (evil eye), psychic factors (obsession),
and a heedless way of life (carelessness): these are part
of a broad spectrum of the agents of sickness.
Gynecology and obstetrics are well represented in
the talmudic corpus, particularly in the tractate Niddah.
Menstruation (during, and 7 days after which a woman
cannot be approached by her husband), vaginal
bleeding, recognition and duration of pregnancy, as
well as a wealth of details related to embryology,
sterility, and abortion, are only examples of the topics
considered by the Sages. We shall again select two
items: cesarean section and embryotomy. Regarding
cesarean section, it is stated [bab. Arakhin 7a], “If a
woman dies during labor, the operation is performed
even on the Sabbath day and the child is ripped out
of the womb.” A decree of this kind was already extant
in the early Roman Lex Regia of Numa Pompilius.
More challenging is the question of whether cesarian
section was performed on a living mother in talmudic
times, a procedure that has not been documented
in adjoining contemporaneous cultures. We read
[Mishnah, Bekhorot 8: 3]: “A child born through the
(abdominal) wall (Hebr. yoze dofen), and the one who
comes (i.e., is born) after him, none of them are
considered (legally) as being first-born.” It seems that it
was acceptable in the times of the Mishnah (second
century AD) that a woman gives birth by cesarean
section, recover, and gives birth later to another child
in the normal way. Such a possibility seemed quite
strange to Maimonides [see his commentary ad loc.],
who tried painstakingly to devise a case that would
make sense. There has been a lively and prolonged
discussion among historians of medicine and talmudic
scholars regarding the definition of yoze dofen. Some
think it could mean extrauterine pregnancy; others

advocate abnormal birth through a perineal tear, or
even through the anus. I am among those who think
that this was a theoretical case based maybe on animal
pathology [see ibid. Bekhorot 2: 8], but the question is
still open to discussion.
Embryotomy is mentioned in the Mishnah as well:
“In case a woman experiences difficulty in labor (her
life being in danger), her fetus should be cut to
pieces inside her womb and extracted limb by limb”
[Mishnah, Oholot 7: 6]. It is clearly stated that the life
of the mother has preference over that of the fetus.
However, once his head, or the majority of his body,
is out of his mother’s body, the fetus may no longer
be harmed, for one life cannot be put aside for the sake
of another.
Circumcision was, according to the biblical narra-
tive, first performed by Abraham, and was hencefor-
ward to be performed on every male child at the age of
8 days [Gen. 17: 10–14], The technical details of the
surgical procedure are nowhere mentioned in the Bible;
they are, however, discussed in the Talmud. What
interests us here are some of the complications of the
operation. It is stated that if two children of the same
mother have died (from hemorrhage) as a result of
circumcision, the third child should not be circumcised.
It says further that if two children of one mother or one
child each of two sisters dies, the third should not be
circumcised.
The sages remark that there are families in which
the blood is “loose,” whereas in others it is “tied up”.
This is most probably the first historical description
of hemophilia and of its genetic transmission [bab.
Shabbat 134a and Yebamot 64b].
The operation that should be performed on a
newborn baby which presents an imperforated anus
is described in detail [Shabbat, ibid.]. It says that
the membrane should be opened crosswise. This is
noteworthy because a circular incision would indeed
have been ineffective.
In accordance with Hippocratic medicine, the
Talmudic sages considered that an eight-month baby
could not be viable [bab. Shabbat 135a]. A baby was
usually breast fed for 2 years. Therefore if a nursing
mother lost her husband, she was not allowed to marry
again until 2 years (at least 18 months) had elapsed,
for fear that she might become pregnant again and her
milk production could be stopped [bab. Yebamot
42ab]. In order to prevent a nursing mother from
becoming pregnant (which could stop lactation), some
sages advocated the use of a pessary (mokh) during
intercourse. Others promoted withholding intercourse
altogether during lactation, which was repeatedly
urged in ancient medical lore. Wet nurses were hired
in case the mother could not nurse her child. The wet
nurse was supposed to tend this nursling exclusively;
Medicine in the Talmud 1583
she could not even nurse her own child [bab. Kethubot
60b]. The use of non-Jewish nurses was permitted. Some
sources granted this permission without any condition
[Tosefta, Niddah 2: 5]; others asked that the nurse be
under the parents’ close supervision [Mishnah, Avodah
Zarah 2: 1]. Moreover the use of milk from animals, even
from unclean beasts, was permitted, as the child was
considered in deadly danger if he got no milk whatsoever.
Even a brief abstract of talmudic medicine cannot
disregard the topic of public and personal hygiene.
Dietetics is not exclusively centered on dietary laws.
Several axiomatic statements, based on empiric and
popular lore, are recorded. One should eat simply [bab.
Shabbat 140b], slowly (carefully chewing food)
[bab. Berakhot 54b], moderately [Shabbat 33a], and
regularly. “Any change in one’s usual diet is the
beginning of bowel disease” [bab. Sanhedrin 10la].
Wine and meat are characteristic of a festive meal
[bab. Pesahim 109a]. Excess of meat is considered
harmful; the priests in the Temple suffered from bowel
diseases, as they consumed too much meat (from the
offerings). There was even a “specialist” for these
diseases; his name was Ben Ahijah [Mishnah Shekalim
5: 1–2].
Fasts were instituted by the sages to commemorate
great calamities such as the destruction of the Temple.
The only fast that is of biblical foundation is the Day of
Atonement (Yom Kippur). Fasts were also initiated in
case of oncoming epidemics, wars, floods, or drought.
M
Such fasts did not usually exceed 24 h [Mishnah,
Ta’anit 3: 3–5].
Personal hygiene included cleanliness as reflected in
the laws of purity. Women took a ritual bath after
menstruation and observed an additional 7 days purifica-
tion period. General hygiene is featured in a number of
regulations on water supply, lavatories, bathing, care for
the dying and burial, and the Sabbath rest.
Even after all this explanation, we can still ask the
question: Is there actually a specifically talmudic
medicine? I prefer the view that there is definitely a
fascinating topic labeled “Medicine in the Talmud.”
These rich and multifaceted data should take their
legitimate rank in the history of both medicine and
culture.
References
Codell Carter, K. Causes of Disease and Death in the
Babylonian Talmud. Medizinhistorisches Journal 26.1–2
(1991): 94–104.
Dvorjetski, Estée. The History of Nephrology in the Talmudic
Corpus. American Journal of Nephrology 22.2–3 (2002):
119–29.
Ebstein, Wilhelm. Die Medizin im Neuen Testament und im
Talmud. Stuttgart: Enke, 1903.
1584 Medicine in Thailand
Geller, Mark J. Hippocrates, Galen and the Jews: Renal
Medicine in the Talmud. American Journal of Nephrology
22.2–3 (2002): 101–6.
Kottek, Samuel S. Breast-Feeding in Ancient Jewish Sources.
Assia 7.3–4 (1980): 45–56 (in Hebrew).
---. Concepts of Disease in the Talmud. Koroth 9.1–2 (1985):
7–33.
---. Andrologie et anthropologie dans le corpus talmudique.
Medicina nei secoli 13.2 (2001): 401–11.
---. The Surgeon as Depicted in Talmudic Literature.
Proceedings of the 37th International Congress on the
History of Medicine, Galveston (10–15 September, 2000).
Galveston, Texas: University of Texas Medical Branch,
2002. 275–9.
Leibowitz, Joshua O. Jews in Medicine. Mah.anaim 102
(1969): 18–35 (in Hebrew).
Preuss, Julius. Biblical and Talmudic Medicine. New York:
Sanhedrin Press, 1978 (first German ed. 1911).
Rosner, Fred. Medicine in the Bible and the Talmud. New
York: Ktav, 1977.
The Babylonian Talmud. Trans. I. Epstein and colleagues.
London: Soncino Press, 1935–1952.
Medicine in Thailand
V IGGO B RUN
There exists in Thailand a medical tradition based on
local disease concepts, the use of natural products and
certain magical rituals which have been practiced by
local doctors for centuries. This local wisdom has been
passed on both orally and through manuscripts from
teacher to pupil for generations. Traditional Thai
medicine exists in two versions: a village variant,
containing many regional and personal variations, and a
court variant influenced by Indian (Ayurvedic) medi-
cine, which has been standardized to a certain extent.
Since around 1900 the official medical system in
Thailand has however been solely based on biomedi-
cine, and biomedicine is now widely accepted by the
Thai public. But even without any official support,
traditional Thai medicine has survived quite well in the
rural areas, and in present-day Thailand, the public
makes use of both traditions – predominantly the
official cosmopolitan medicine, and, to a lesser extent,
traditional medicine. Since the beginning of the 1990s
the attitude of the state towards traditional medicine
has changed, and the official policy is now to integrate
traditional medicine into the public health system.
The Village Tradition
In villages all over Thailand one finds people referred to
as traditional doctors (moo phaen booraan) who mainly
use medicinal herbs (samunphraj) and other natural
substances to cure diseases. The sum of knowledge and
practices of these experts is labelled “traditional Thai
medicine”. There is no traditional doctor who knows
the entire body of traditional medical knowledge,
and there are many local and individual variations of
traditional Thai medicine within Thailand, both in the
way plants and diseases are labelled, in the way disease
terms are understood, in the way concrete cases of
illness are diagnosed, and in the way plants and other
materia medica are used in the curing process.
Traditional Thai medicine includes knowledge
about the identification of plants (and minerals and
animal components) and their curing properties, about
diagnosis, cause and development of diseases, about
prescriptions and about relevant incantations and
ceremonies. The prescriptions, which exhibit the con-
crete relationship between diseases and the plant
world, are – together with the incantations – considered
to be the essential and most valuable part of the
tradition and are surrounded with a certain amount of
secrecy. The prescriptions contain any number of
ingredients, normally from five to ten, but sometimes
less and often more, even comprising as many as 50
different ingredients. For each ingredient the prescrip-
tion will ideally specify which part of the plant should
be used – root, leaf, bark, fruit, etc. – and normally in
what quantity. While much of the medical knowledge is
transmitted orally, the prescriptions are written down.
There are a vast number of medical manuscripts in
Thailand, both in temple libraries and in the care of the
herbalists, and almost all of these manuscripts are
merely collections of prescriptions.
In order to access the information in the manuscripts
as well as to copy them and write down the prescriptions,
it was necessary to be able to read and write. In former
times these skills were taught only in temples to boys,
so the traditional doctors were exclusively male. Monks
and former monks were central in the transmission of
all written traditional knowledge, including medicine,
and Buddhism has – as we shall see below – left a deep
imprint on the way traditional medicine has been
organized.
To a certain extent, the general public also possesses
medical experience and knowledge which people use
to talk about diseases, to chose between available
curative alternatives, and for self-medication. There are
a number of simple traditional remedies known to
villagers, commonly referred to as “household remedies”
( jaaklaangbaan).
The traditional doctors are often called to a career in
medicine after they themselves have been sick. They
will seek out a traditional doctor, get cured, and
thereafter ask to be accepted as a student of that doctor
and learn the prescription that cured them. After that
they start treating people with this particular disease. If

the treatment is successful, and if the new doctor feels
he has a knack for traditional medicine, he seeks out
more knowledge from other teachers, and thus
gradually expands his curing range. Another path is
to learn the trade from a practicing relative. Few
traditional doctors become true generalists, though, and
few become full-timers. For most of them, curing
provides them with supplementary income, although a
successful traditional doctor will be respected and
obtain higher social status.
Traditional Thai doctors neither perform surgery,
except for lancing abscesses, nor do they undertake
dissection. Thus they do not have a very precise or
systematic knowledge of the human’s interior organs
and how they function. A certain amount of anatomical
knowledge is gathered from partitioning animals, and
Buddhist scriptures do enumerate body components.
Some traditional doctors perform bone setting. The
broken bones are pulled back into place – no painkiller! –
and the area around the fracture stabilized with sticks of
wood tied together, after which incantations are blown
onto the fracture. Traditional bone setting may result in
the bones growing together at unusual angles, so most
people prefer to go to Western-style hospitals to be
treated for fractures.
Massage and midwifery are separate branches of the
local medical tradition. Traditional midwifery is fast
disappearing, while Thai massage has become tremen-
dously popular – also outside Thailand. A number of
drawings of the human body in Wat Pho, the largest and
oldest temple in Bangkok, pertain to Thai massage,
indicating points on the exterior of the body on which
applications of pressure have a therapeutic effect for
specific ailments. Other drawings of the human body
show lines (sen) connecting various points on the body.
The meaning and practical application of these lines and
how they connect up with the rest of traditional medical
theory and practice are not clear. One homepage,
▶http://www.bomi.info/books/thai_massage.htm, lists
12 books on Thai massage which have been published
within the last decade – some accompanied by videos –
mostly practical introduction written by people who
operate clinics for Thai massage in various countries.
Traditional saunas, where steam from herb-steeped
water is directed into a small, closed room, are also
used. These steam baths are regarded as generally
healthful but are also used specifically to cure certain
skin or respiratory diseases.
In the countryside people used to rinse their mouths
with water after eating, and they used toothpicks and
sometimes rubbed their gums with salt. Now most
people use toothbrushes and toothpaste. Previously
toothache was simply considered to be bad luck. When
the pain became intolerable, the tooth was pulled out.
Until recently there were peddlers appearing in the
villages trying to convince people that their toothache
Medicine in Thailand 1585
was caused by small worms eating the teeth – they
could miraculously produce such worms from the
mouth of any bystander with toothache – and that their
bottles of medicine would kill these worms. This
medicine was very popular. The bottles they sold
merely contained a simple plain painkiller.
Transmission
The medical tradition in Thailand is said to have been
transmitted through a chain of teacher–pupil relation-
ships which goes back to the tradition’s original
teacher, Jivaka Komarabhacca, the legendary physician
of the Lord Buddha, and each practitioner pays respect
to his teacher at annual rituals. On every occasion in
which he uses the knowledge from the tradition, he
should ceremonially invoke the whole chain of teachers –
living and dead – to be present and thus infuse his
actions with their sacred power. Medical knowledge is
in principle restricted to those who have been ritually
initiated into the tradition, and thus every potential
doctor has to find a teacher who will accept him as a
pupil and share his knowledge with the student. The
teacher is important because the tradition consists of
both oral and written information. The written manuals
contain the essence of the tradition – the prescriptions –
but the manuals contain almost no information about
each particular disease or plant, beyond their names.
All the background knowledge and detailed informa-
M
tion which the manuals presuppose are transmitted
orally. The student needs a teacher to give him this oral
information and from whom he can observe the finer
points of medical practice.
The ideal would be if the complete primordial
knowledge was passed on verbatim through faithful
repetition and copying. Still, time involves change and
decay, and it is recognized by everyone that losses,
fragmentation, external additions and copying mistakes
have occurred all along the transmission chain. Medical
manuals are no longer complete and homogeneous, but
fragmented and heterogeneous. The actual transmis-
sion of knowledge is no longer only faithful copying
but also a continual process of selection and reorgani-
zation, and new knowledge may even be added to the
tradition. The standard way of justifying additions is to
present them as revelations, often referred to as tamraa
phii book (manual told by the spirits). In other words,
additions and innovations are permitted as long as they
are received directly from the “other world”, i.e. as long
as they are disguised as restoration, rediscovery or
reestablishment of something original.
Traditional Pharmacy
There are probably several thousand plants (and
ingredients from the mineral and animal kingdoms)
1586 Medicine in Thailand
in traditional Thai medical prescriptions, and these
should – alone or in combinations – have a curing
property of one kind or another. There are a number of
herb stores in the larger towns where the traditional
doctor can buy the ingredients he needs. Still it is
convenient if he has the plants he uses most frequently
ready at hand. Many traditional doctors therefore grow
medicinal plants in their gardens and possess some
botanical knowledge.
A number of monks also practice as traditional
pharmacists or doctors. In Buddhist temples one can
sometimes find extensive gardening of medicinal
plants.
There are also a number of traditional pharmacists
who produce homemade traditional medicines for sale
at markets and fairs or through local stores. With the
increasing popularity and growing demand, the tradi-
tional medicines – and herbal-based cosmetics – are
now also being produced industrially by a number of
firms. Thus people have easy access to ready-made
traditional medicines, which are cheaper than the available
biomedical medicines, and although it is widely viewed
that they may take a longer time to produce results, it is
also claimed that they have fewer side effects than
cosmopolitan medicines.
The Ministry of Public Health stipulates that traditi-
onal drugs should be approved before public sale, but
this law is not strictly enforced.
Botanists and pharmacists in Thailand have published
a large number of books on Thai plants and their claimed
curative properties. There is also a “pharmdatabase”,
▶http://www.medplant.mahidol.ac.th/index.asp, where
one can search by plant name (English or Thai), genus,
or biological activity.
Etiology
Many of the disease causes recognized by traditional
Thai doctors are also causative factors in modern
medicine. Some diseases are, for example, regarded as
contagious and some as inherited; some as caused by
changes in the climate and others by contact with
external agents such as metal chains or washing
powder, resulting in skin eruptions. Some are caused
by insect or animal bites and others by spoiled food, or
bad smells. There are natural causes for fracture,
dislocation, contusion, burns, or wounds.
The close relationship between food and disease can
be seen in the monastic rules (Vinaya pitaka) where
medicines are classified as “non-substantial food”.
Many of the most common medicinal plants are also
ingredients in food. Food prohibitions are, moreover,
integral to the treatment of many diseases. Such
prohibitions might be against meat, frogs and fish with
skin, seafood, pickled food, certain vegetables, eggs,
liquor, or foods with certain tastes – all depending on
the disease in question. There are also specific dietary
rules for the post-natal period. Adding and withdrawing
certain foods from the diet can also function as
preventive measures.
A causative factor specific to the medical tradition of
the court is “imbalance in the elements (thaat)”, i.e.
imbalance between wind, water, earth, and fire. These
are the elements of which our body (and indeed all
matter) is composed.
In addition, traditional Thai medicine operates with
other types of causes, which modern science summarily
dismisses as superstition. These can be classified as
spirits, black magic, and karma (past actions). If the
diagnosis is that a patient in some way has offended
and angered a spirit, who in retaliation has caused the
offender to fall sick, then the curing process may
consist of ritual offerings only.
There are cases characterized by sudden violent and
abusive behaviour, which may be attributed to
possession by an inferior, evil spirit. A specialist is
then called upon who will talk to the spirit and ask it
who it is, where it lives and what it wants. If the spirit
does not want to leave the body after offerings have
been given, it is mercilessly beaten out – the spirit
apparently feeling all the pain, while the possessed
person feels nothing.
Another type of mental disturbance may, after all
other treatments have proved fruitless, be attributed to a
superior, good spirit who wilfully has inflicted this kind
of suffering on the patient to force her to become its
medium. When the person accepts mediumship, the
spirit immediately withdraws the ailment, and the
person recovers.
Piercing or lancing pains in the joints, abdomen, or
chest may, if unresponsive to treatment, be attributed to
black magic. This means that an object – like a nail or a
lump of skin – has been inserted into the patient’s body
by a doctor using special incantations and acting on the
instructions of an enemy of the patient. The only
solution for the victim is to find a doctor who has even
stronger incantations to counteract the original ones
and can thus remove the object or even send it back to
attack its owner. The Northern Thais say that the Karen
and the Khamu hill tribes harbour powerful incanta-
tions, in Northeastern Thailand they may blame the
Khmer for the black magic, and in Southern Thailand
the Malays.
The Buddhist concept of karma may also be used as
an ultimate causative factor, but normally only after all
other explanations have failed. Using karma as the
cause implies that the disease is a deserved and
inescapable result of a previous action by the patient.
People do not favour this explanation, because it means
that a cure is impossible and that a person simply must
endure his or her fate. However, people confronted
with the inevitable deterioration and malfunctioning of

their bodies, such as the elderly and those with
incurable diseases, use karma to indicate that they
have accepted the inevitable. This resignation can also
be a relief for relatives, who no longer need to feel
obliged to search for new remedies and pay even
more bills.
The recitation of holy words plays an important role
in many contexts in Thailand, and there is a strong
belief that recitation of holy stanzas (weedmon
khaathaa-aakhom), if performed by the right persons,
produces power and that this power is transferable.
Incantations are an integral part of traditional medicine
and are in many cases recited over or blown on to the
medicines and the patients by the traditional doctor.
Magical practices are a central part of Thai culture and
thus also of traditional Thai medicine. Still this must
not overshadow the fact that traditional Thai medicine is
basically a rational tradition based on experience. The
traditional doctor will first seek a natural and rational
explanation to a disease. Only if this does not work will
he resort to other types of explanations and treatments.
And if one accepts the premises of magic, such as the
existence of spirits and other levels of existence, it too
possesses its own rational logic.
Heterogeneity
A central feature of the Thai medical tradition is its
heterogeneity: it generates many different answers to
the same question. This is true at all levels of the
tradition.
The names for one and the same plant may vary from
locality to locality, and one and the same name may be
used for different plants in different places (which is
nothing peculiar to Thailand, of course).
The claimed medical properties of plants in isolation
vary from informant to informant, and do not necessarily
conform with the prescriptions in which the plant
actually occurs. When one, for example, asks, “What
are the curative property/properties of plant P?” the
first informant says, “It cures disease A”, the second
informant says, “It cures disease B”, and when we check
the prescriptions we have collected, we find that plant P
does not occur in prescriptions against diseases A and B,
but in prescriptions against diseases C and D.
The content of the local disease names varies accord-
ing to the informant. Furthermore, disease names known
by one expert may not be known by another even if
they live in the same area. And finally actual diagnosis
varies a lot.
One could speculate that a likely reason for this
heterogeneity is a slow and erratic process of crystal-
lizing experience, which again could be due to the lack
of communication (i.e. competition) between the
herbalists and the lack of records of the experiences
of the individual herbalist. Furthermore, the lack of
Medicine in Thailand 1587
standardization of disease concepts and the lack of
an explicit epistemological framework could well be
factors which have hampered the crystallization
process of the popular medical tradition and contrib-
uted to its continued heterogenic character.
But there exists another branch of the medical
tradition in Thailand emanating from the royal court
with an explicit and rather elaborate theoretical
framework.
The Court Medical Tradition
At the Thai court royal physicians (moo luang), who
held official positions within the Medical Department
(krom phaet), were responsible for the well-being of the
king and his court. The knowledge of the court medical
tradition was kept within the court, and transferred in
many cases through certain families. Rama III decided
to make public parts of the traditional knowledge
harboured within the court when he restored the Wat
Pho (Wat Chetuphon) temple in central Bangkok from
1834 onwards – including medical knowledge, espe-
cially related to massage (stone inscriptions) and
physical exercise (stone statues).
In 1870, during the reign of King Chulalongkorn
(=Rama V, 1867–1910), a committee of royal physi-
cians was appointed to collect and edit old medical
manuals. The result of their work became known as
tamra luang, the Royal (Medical) Treatise, and was
M
kept in the library of the palace, available to court
physicians only. When Siriraj Hospital was established
in 1887, the patients could choose between cosmopoli-
tan and traditional treatment, and likewise the curriculum
at the Siriraj Medical School (1889) included instruction
in both cosmopolitan and traditional Thai medicine. To
standardize the teaching of traditional medicine, a printed
version of the tamra luang was introduced as textbook
at Siriraj Medical School with the title tamraa phaetsaat
songkhro. Thus the court medical tradition went public,
and became the official medical tradition until the
teaching of traditional medicine was discontinued
around 1906 (some say in 1913). Some 50 years later,
in 1957, the Association of the School of Traditional
Medicine was established at Wat Pho (Bangkok), and
both the teaching and the officially supervised examina-
tions there were based on reprints of the tamra phaetsaat
songkhro. The Wat Pho school later established schools
at a number of temples in major towns. Since 1957, in
order to practice traditional medicine legally one has had
to pass examinations from these schools, where courses
in traditional pharmacy, midwifery, and general medical
practice are offered. As an innovation women have been
allowed to participate on equal footing with men.
In the court medical tradition we find a theoretical
framework which is based on the four elements (earth,
water, wind, and fire), the three humours (bile, wind, and
1588 Medicine in Thailand
mucus), and the ten tastes (hot, cool, mild, astringent,
sweet, poisonous, bitter, oily, salt, and sour). The fact is,
though, that the theoretical framework lacks internal
coherence and consistency, and that its relationship
to actual medical practice is weak: it is not readily
applicable to diagnosis and treatment of concrete cases
of diseases. One could say that the theoretical frame-
work we find in the court tradition is divorced from
practice and functions only as a frame of reference, a
model. This framework legitimates practice, but does
not dictate it.
During the Aythaya period, the capital was a lively
international trading port with many foreign commu-
nities from various Asian as well as European
countries. A number of these foreigners were employed
in the King’s service. It is quite likely that these
foreigners left an imprint on the court medical tradition,
although it is not clear how and to what extent this
actually happened. It is quite obvious, on the other
hand, that there is an element of Sanskrit influence in
the court tradition. A number of court medical manu-
scripts on which the tamra luang is based have Sanskrit
names – although no one has yet been able to identify
these names with titles of Sanskrit medical manuals in
India – and many of the concepts and the disease
names are borrowed from Sanskrit. Still, no compre-
hensive comparative studies on this matter have, to my
knowledge, been undertaken, so it is difficult to
ascertain the extent and exact nature of Ayurvedic
influence on the court medical tradition in Thailand.
Even now, there are separate institutions for Ayurvedic
medicine, such as the Ayurvedic Society of Thailand
(samaakhom ajuraweed haeng pratheedthai).
Many Thais regard the court medical tradition as
more advanced than the village tradition, and thus
accord it the status of the Thai medical tradition,
considering the village tradition but a crude simplifica-
tion with many local variations (cf. Somchintana 1989:
280). This attitude is unfortunate because it glosses over
the fact that even if the royal tradition has an explicit
theoretical framework which the village tradition lacks,
the medical practices of the two are still very similar.
Furthermore, there have not been any court physi-
cians proper practicing traditional medicine for the
last 100 years, so that the oral tradition that goes
with the court medical tradition has been broken.
Today there are therefore hardly any people who can
explain the theories, concepts, organization, and the
quite numerous unintelligible passages in the court
medical manuals with authority.
Buddhism and Traditional Medicine
Buddhism is a crucial factor in Thai culture, but still
there is no study of the influence of Buddhism and
Buddhist medical lore on the Thai medical tradition.
In his study of the development of Buddhist medical
knowledge within a broader Indian medical tradition,
Kenneth Zysk points out that Buddhist monks at the
time of the Buddha already acted as healers for their
fellow bhikkhus (monks), and that “from around the
mid-third century BCE monk-healers and the monas-
teries extended medical care to the population at large”
(Zysk 1991: 41). Portions of the medical knowledge
and experience of the Buddhist bhikkhus were recorded
in a chapter on medicines (Bhesajjakhandhaka) in the
Mahavagga of the Vinaya Pitaka, the monastic rules,
thereby giving rise to a Buddhist monastic medical
tradition.
Medicines were part of the five requisites a monk
could possess, and originally the monks were allowed
only a very limited number of basic medicines. As time
went by the list of medicines allowed was increased
and became in principle open ended. Furthermore,
Medicines of the Buddhist monastic materia
medica were considered to be foods but classified
as nonsubstantial nourishment, allowing them to
be consumed at any time (Zysk 1991: 73).
The medical knowledge in the Vinaya is organized in
the form of case histories, where Buddha tells about the
disease of a certain person and the remedies used to
cure that person:
The section on medicines in the Mahavagga (of the
Vinaya Pitaka)… is characterized by reference to
actual cases, and functioned as a handbook and
guide for the treatment of common afflictions… The
medical importance of these Buddhist records,
however, is their recounting of patients’ medical
problems and the corresponding treatments. The
academic medical treatises of classical ayurveda
offered no such case-by-case medical instruction…
Between those two traditions [i.e. the Buddhist Pali
records and the classical Indian medical treatises]
many similarities, but also numerous differences,
exist – significantly, the Buddhist emphasis on
practical application devoid of the theoretical
considerations of disease etiology (italics added)
that dominate the [non-Buddhist] medical books.
This difference supports the view that codified
Buddhist monastic medicine, with its emphasis on
materia medica and case-based therapies, represents
an early attempt to provide a manual of medical
practice and in some sense legitimated the for-
malized collections of prescriptions… (Zysk 1991:
71–72).
As for knowledge of anatomy we find that:
In the Mahasatipatthanasuttanta of the Dighani-
kaya (in Sutta Pitaka), the four intents of contem-
plation (cattaro satipatthana) are detailed. The first

of these was the human body (kaya) in all its parts,
aspects, and impurities. The monk was to endeavor,
through persistent contemplation, to realize the
fundamental impermanence of his physical and
mental constitution by meditating on the body:
And in addition, O monks, a monk contemplates
this very body, up from the soles of the feet (and)
down from the crown of the head, bound by skin
(and) full of manifold impurities. “There is in this
body (the following): hair of the head, hair of the
body, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, sinews, bones, bone
marrow, kidney, heart, liver, pleura, spleen, lungs,
bowels, intestines, stomach, excrement, bile,
phlegm, pus, blood, sweat, fat, tears, grease,
saliva, mucus, serous fluid, and urine…” There is
in this body “earth element, water element, fire
element, and wind element” (Zysk 1991: 34).
This list includes anatomical parts, but does not give
any further descriptive details, neither how they
function and relate to each other nor how they relate
to diseases. The four elements are mentioned, but only
to underline that the body, like all other matter, is
ultimately composed of these elements.
Buddhist medical knowledge encompasses concepts
such as the four elements, the three humours, and the
32 constituents of the body, and shows a very practical
attitude to the curing process, but it does not attempt
to construct specifically medical theoretical frame-
works. Thus when Zysk concludes that, “The medical
doctrines codified in the monastic rules probably
provided the literary model for the subsequent
enchiridions of medical practice” (Zysk 1991: 118), it
is not difficult to agree that this has indeed also been the
case for traditional Thai medicine.
Traditional and Cosmopolitan Medicine
If we look at patients’ choices of curing methods in the
countryside nowadays, we find, according to some
statistics, that 95% prefer cosmopolitan medicine as a
first choice, while only a small minority chooses
traditional medicine. Furthermore, traditional medicine
is in many cases resorted to only after treatment with
biomedicine has failed. This means that patients who
no longer can afford modern treatment or people with
terminal, incurable, or chronic diseases will resort to
traditional medicine. But there are also certain illnesses
where traditional medicine has a reputation of being
more efficient than biomedicine. These include hae-
morrhoids, kidney stones, and diseases with “wind” as
the prominent symptom. In addition, the simple fact
that traditional doctors are local people who know their
patients’ social situation, speak the local dialect, talk in
a way the patients understand, and have more time to
listen may give them an advantage over the more sterile
Medicine in Thailand 1589
and impersonal relationships the patients have with the
Western-trained physicians and hospitals.
From the patient’s side, it is not an either–or
situation. Many patients will choose both traditions.
People who are sick often go to several doctors and
several pharmacies at the same time, both biomedical
and traditional, and thus follow parallel treatments. This
may have the consequence that they stuff themselves
with too many drugs, thus rendering it impossible to
decide which medicine actually cured the disease.
While cosmopolitan-trained doctors are quite scepti-
cal of the efficacy of traditional medicine, the reverse is
not true. Traditional doctors recognize quite readily the
qualities of cosmopolitan medicine, such as the surgical
skills and the value of vaccination and antibiotics for
example. They also in some cases refer patients to
modern doctors and they may (re)sell certain Western
drugs they find useful. Ideologically they also feel akin
to biomedicine in that, as one traditional doctor put it,
Diseases are a terribly complicated business, so
traditional doctors must use the same method as
the Western trained ones, namely the trial-and-
error approach: If one prescription does not work,
I will try another, and yet another, until I have
found one that works, just like the pharmacists and
the modern doctors.
But cosmopolitan medicine does indeed also take an
interest in traditional pharmacopoeia, trying to identify M
and extract medically active chemical components
from traditional medical herbs in the hopes of being
able to design new drugs. Transnational – and Thai –
pharmaceutical firms are involved in this search, and
the Government Pharmaceutical Organization has in
fact for years been producing herbal remedies for sale
based on their own research.
Cosmopolitan medicine in Thailand is also adopting
traditional Thai disease terms for modern diseases, thus
eroding the traditional concepts and causing some
confusion. Modern medicine has, for example, adopted
the traditional term mareng for cancer, while the term
originally was a vague disease term covering various
skin diseases with itching eruptions. So it seems rather
far-fetched to claim – as some traditional doctors do –
that traditional prescriptions against certain skin diseases
(mareng) also cure cancer (mareng) in general, simply
because the names for the two diseases coincide. Also,
some traditional doctors are claiming to have found or
invented herbal medicines which can cure other “new”
diseases, such as diabetes and AIDS, and herbal mixtures
have also been used to cure heroin addicts.
Current Developments
Over the last decade or so, the Thai government has
radically changed its policy towards traditional medicine.
1590 Medicine in Thailand
The general context for this change has been the new
WHO policy to encourage governments to incorporate
traditional medicine into their official medical systems.
Furthermore, public expenses for medical care have
continued to increase at an accelerating rate, and so has
the bill for imported medicines and medical supplies.
Thai politicians and bureaucrats also see the possibility
for export of traditional Thai drugs, and that Thai
medicine can play an important role in transforming
Thailand into Asia’s health service centre.
There has also been a growing awareness of and
pride in one’s national heritage and local wisdom
and knowledge, and “nature”, “ecology”, and “holistic
approaches” have become very popular concepts and part
of the current discourse on health. Some even feel that
there is an incongruity between modern technology
and the Thai way of life and indigenous culture. All these
factors have contributed to strengthening the hand of
traditional medicine and also in changing the attitude
of the bureaucracy. One of the first official steps in this
direction was the Seventh National Economic and Social
Development Plan for 1992–1996, which stated that:
The promotion of people’s health entails the
efforts to develop traditional wisdom in health
care, including Thai traditional medicine, herbal
medicine and traditional massage, so as to in-
tegrate it into the modern health service system.
The Thai government has followed up on this plan, by
adopting the goals of the plan in its official health
policy and by establishing in 1993 the National
Institute of Thai Traditional Medicine (NITTM) under
the Ministry of Public Health. Its first director was the
energetic and knowledgeable Dr. Phennapa Subcaroen.
The basic aim of the NITTM is to integrate Thai
Traditional Medicine (TTM) effectively into the
National Health Service system. To achieve this aim,
NITTM must, according to a brochure it has published,
“systematize and standardize the body of TTM
knowledge” and thus “gather knowledge, revise, verify,
classify, and explain TTM knowledge” as well as
“compare and explain the philosophies and basic
theories of TTM and to produce textbooks on TTM”.
Thus in order to revitalize traditional medicine and
make it acceptable to the official medical system, the
NITTM has deemed it necessary to create a new
traditional medicine with a coherent medical theory, a
consistent diagnosis and a consistent use of medical
herbs, as well as a safe and efficient medical practice, or
in other words, to replace heterogeneity with homoge-
neity. The result is no longer called “traditional Thai
medicine” but simply “Thai medicine”, “traditional”
having been dropped because it sounded too outdated.
This recreation of tradition is supposed to be done in
cooperation with traditional doctors, NGOs, and other
interested parties. But, according to Rancarati:
Not all health care workers, academics and
traditional healers are content with official views
of TTM… since they (particularly those in
peripheral regions) feel that it is just another form
of homogenization and domination of Central
Thai culture within national boundaries… Stan-
dardized Ministry of Public Health TTM exams
favour the Central Thai model, particularly by
adopting Central Thai names and concepts related
to medicinal herbs (Roncarati 2003: 209).
Another important step taken by the NITTM has been
to protect Thai traditional medicine from being
appropriated and exploited by foreigners. Thus the
NITTM drafted the Traditional Thai Medicinal Wis-
dom Protection Bill which, after several years of
discussion, was approved and came into effect in May
2000. This bill makes Thailand one of the first third
world countries to regulate foreigners’ access to all
aspects of traditional medical knowledge. The law
drew quite irate comments from the US embassy in
Bangkok but was lauded by the local media. In a
commentary in the Bangkok Post of 18 June 1997 for
example, the editor Sanitsuda Ekachai praised this
initiative to “defend our indigenous plants and age-old
knowledge of their use from being hijacked by richer
countries”. She deplored the fact that rich countries
with advanced biotechnology and sophisticated labora-
tories can use the genetic resources of developing
countries free of charge, extract the effective chemicals,
patent them and sell them back as expensive Western
medicines. She also referred to the unfair global trade
laws, and concluded, “The Traditional Medicine Bill is
a small effort by Thailand to defend itself against such
injustice. No one can rob us of this right”.
The increased awareness about the value and
potentials of traditional medicine in Thailand and the
attempts to revitalize this tradition will hopefully
contribute to a better and more self-reliant public
health system, but it has also made traditional medicine
a highly political issue.
Chinese Medicine
Chinese medicine is quite visible in Thailand, especial-
ly in the towns, where drugstores sell Chinese herbs
and where acupuncture treatment is offered. Still,
Chinese medicine remains quite a distinct tradition
used mainly by the Sino-Thai population. Although the
use of certain Chinese herbs and prescriptions – as well
as massage theories – may have entered the Thai
medical tradition over the centuries, no systematic
study has been made to verify the extent of such
influence. The popularity among the Chinese – be it in
the Mainland, Taiwan, or parts of Southeast Asia – of
using the horns, bones, or bile of certain animals as
aphrodisiacs has contributed to the endangering of

mammals like the rhinoceros, tiger, wild boar, bears,
and certain snakes, among others.
References
This bibliography includes works on Thai traditional
medicine defined narrowly, thus works on botany,
pharmacy, medical practice in general as well as
contemporary health problems and policy issues have not
been included. I have also left out numerous studies on
rituals and religion, many of which have a bearing on
traditional medicine. Furthermore, the bibliography con-
fines itself to Thailand and does not include relevant works
from neighbouring countries, and it contains only works in
Western languages, thus omitting a number of studies in
the Thai language. For further bibliographic references to
works on traditional medicine in Thailand, including works
in Thai, see Shigeharu Tanabe, ed., Religious Traditions
Among Tai Ethnic Groups: A Selected Bibliography.
Ayutthaya (Thailand): Ayutthaya Historical Study Centre,
1991 (which contains special sections on Traditional
Medicine).
The bibliography below reveals that most studies in Western
languages on traditional Thai medicine are articles on
specific aspects of traditional medicine. There exist only a
few more comprehensive studies: Golomb (1985) gives a
broad anthropological view of medical practices in
Southern Thailand; Bamber (1987) studies disease classi-
fication from a linguistic point of view; Brun and
Schumacher (1987) concentrate on medical practice in
Northern Thailand using the traditional doctors as
informants; Mulholland (1987) studies traditional paediat-
rics based on manuscripts from the court tradition; and
Somchintana (1989) studies the concepts and system of
traditional court medicine in Bangkok from a cognitive
anthropological point of view.
There are but few works on the historical development of
traditional medicine in Thailand for the simple reason that
there is very little material in Thai which has survived from
before around 1800. Scattered evidence can be found, but
thorough and critical studies are extremely time-consuming
and would not necessarily yield substantial results.
Furthermore, detailed and critical comparative studies,
both historical and contemporary, between the Thai
medical tradition(s) and similar traditions in India,
Sri Lanka, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and China have yet to
be undertaken. Thus how and to what degree these traditions
have influenced each other is still an open question. What
role Buddhism and the Buddhist sangha have played in the
development of Thai traditional medicine awaits further
studies. There is also a huge number of medical manuscripts
which are in need of critical study which would also deepen
our understanding of regional variations – just to mention
some obvious areas of study which are needed to give us a
better understanding of traditional Thai medicine.
Today Thai scholars conduct most of the research on
traditional medicine, with basically two aims: to preserve
tradition and to make it applicable to the health needs of
contemporary Thailand.
Bamber, Scott. Trope and Taxonomy: An Examination of the
Classification and Treatment of Illness in Traditional Thai
Medicine. Ph.D. Thesis, Australian National University,
1987.
Medicine in Thailand 1591
Beyer, C. About Siamese medicine. Journal of the Siam
Society 4 (1907): 1–9.
Boesch, E. E. Communication Between Doctors and Patients
in Thailand. Part I. Survey of the Problem and Analysis of
the Consultations. Saarbrucken: University of the Saar,
1972.
Bradley, D. B. Siamese Theory and Practice of Medicine.
Bangkok Calendar, 1865 (Rpt. in Social Science Review
(Bangkok) 5.2 (1967): 103–19).
Brun, Viggo. Traditional Manuals and the Transmission of
Knowledge in Thailand. The Master Said: To Study and… To
Søren Egerod on the Occasion of His Sixty-Seventh Birthday.
East Asian Institute Occasional Papers 6. Ed. Birthe
Arendrup, et al. Copenhagen: University of Copenhagen,
1990. 43–65.
Brun, Viggo and Trond Schumacher. Traditional Herbal
Medicine in Northern Thailand. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1987.
Chantana, Banpasirichote. The Indigenization of Develop-
ment Process in Thailand: A Case Study of the Traditional
Revivalist Movement (Thai Massage). Ph.D. Thesis,
University of Waterloo, Ontario, 1989.
Cunningham, C. E. Thai ‘Injection Doctors’: Antibiotic
Mediators. Social Science and Medicine 4 (1970): 1–24.
Damrong, Khun Ying. Siamese Midwifery in the Old Days.
Bangkok, 1931.
Dhani Nivat. The Inscriptions of Wat Phra Jetubon. Journal
of the Siam Society 26 (1933): 143–70.
Feltus, G. H. Samuel Reynolds. House of Siam, Pioneer
Medical Missionary 1847–1876. New York: Fleming H.
Revell, 1924.
Goldschmidt, A. M. F. and B. Hofer. Communication
Between Doctors and Patients in Thailand. Part II. M
Analysis of the Interviews with the Doctors and the
Patients. Saarbrucken: University of the Saar, 1972.
Golomb, Louis. An Anthropology of Curing in Multiethnic
Thailand. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1985.
Griswold, A. B. The Rishis of Wat Pho. Felicitation Volumes
of Southeast-Asian Studies Presented to His Highness
Prince Dhaninivat Kromamun Bidyalabh Bridhyakorn.
Vol. 2. Bangkok: The Siam Society, 1965. 319–28.
Hanks, J. R. Maternity and Its Rituals in Bang Chan. Data
Paper 51, Southeast Asia Program. Ithaca, New York:
Cornell University, 1963.
Highet, H. C. Smallpox Vaccination and New Vaccination
Law in Siam. Journal of the Siam Society 9.1 (1914): 17–8.
Hinderling, P. Communication Between Doctors and Patients
in Thailand. Part III. Interviews with Traditional Doctors.
Saarbrucken: University of the Saar, 1973.
Hofbauer, R. A Medical Retrospect of Thailand. Journal of
the Siam Society 34.2 (1943): 183–200.
Ionescu-Tongyonk, J. Explication of Wind Illness in Northern
Thailand. Transcultural Psychiatric Research Review
18 (1981): 42–5.
Irvine, W. The Thai-Yuan ‘Madman’, and the Modernising,
Developing Thai Nation as Bounded Entities Under
Threat: A Study in the Replication of a Single Image. Ph.D.
Thesis, University of London, 1982.
Konoshima, M., M. Tabata, and D. Pecheraply. On a Thai
Native Doctor and His Folk Medicine. Tonan Ajia Kenkyu
(Southeast Asian Studies) 11(1973): 238–55 (in Japanese).
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ence? Choice Points in Medical Systems Available
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1592 Medicine in Turkey
Asian Societies. Ed. A. Kleinmann, et al. Cambridge,
Massachusetts: Schenkman, 1978. 185–217.
Lafont, P. -B. Practiques médicales des Thai noirs du Laos de
l’ouest. Anthropos 54 (1959): 819–40.
Le Grand, Amanda. Herbal Drugs in Primary Health Care.
Thailand: The Impact of Promotional Activities on Drug
Consumption, Drug Provision and Self-Reliance. Bangkok:
Mahidol University, 1989.
Lord, D. C. Mo Bradley and Thailand. Grand Rapids,
Michigan: Wm. B. Ferdonans, 1969.
Mougne, Christine. An Ethnography of Reproduction:
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Nature and Man in South East Asia. Ed. P. A. Stott.
London: School of Oriental and African Studies, 1978.
68–106.
Muecke, M. A. An Explication of ‘Wind Illness’ in Northern
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267–300.
Mulholland, Jean. Thai Traditional Medicine: Ancient
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Samruay, Subchareon. Thai Traditional Medicine System and
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(1980): 11–60.
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Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 63
(1933): 441–51.
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and Change in Indigenous Healing in Northern Thailand.
Social Science and Medicine 18.2 (1984): 117–28.
Yoddumnern, Benja. The Role of Thai Traditional Doctors.
Bangkok: Mahidol University, Institute for Population and
Social Research, 1974.
Zysk, Kenneth G. Asceticism and Healing in Ancient India.
Medicine in the Buddhist Monastery. Oxford: Oxford
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1998).
Medicine in Turkey
C HRISTOPHER D OLE
Turkey comprises a territory that has long been a cross-
roads for numerous empires, religions, and cultures. The
medical and healing techniques that are practiced and
utilized in contemporary Turkey reflect this diverse
history. While cosmopolitan medicine has been practiced
in Turkey for centuries and patients overwhelmingly
prefer it when available, there exists a rich set of health
care options for problems not defined as treatable within
medical settings, in instances where one has no access
to or cannot afford medical treatment, or, most com-
monly, alongside biomedical treatments. Despite a
history of opposition toward nonbiomedical forms of
healing (Dole 2004, 2006), traditional healing practices
are still widely practiced and used within both urban
and rural settings. As with any social practice, these
healing practices change in relation to ongoing political,
economic, historical, and social transformations.
The majority of traditional healing practices are
closely related to Turkey’s dominant religious orienta-
tion, Islam. Of these religious forms of healing, four
general categories or types of healing can be identified.
While there is a significant degree of regional, local,
and individual variation, these categories reflect the
most widespread practices and can be distinguished
based upon their respective conceptualizations of
therapeutic efficacy, of how each form of healing is
understood as affecting a cure.
The first form of healing, kurşun dökme, roughly
translates as “the pouring of lead” and consists of a lead
pouring specialist (kurşuncu) who treats patients who
have been struck by the nazar, or evil eye. The evil eye
can manifest itself in a variety of forms – fever,
sweating, “fright,” bad luck, pimples, skin rashes, and
nightmares, to mention but a few (Maloney 1976; Çelik
1974). Although practiced exclusively by women, both
men and women go to this specialist for treatment.
Women and children (both male and female) are,
however, the most frequent visitors. The primary ritual
feature of the kurşuncu is the pouring of molten lead

into a basin filled with water over which the patient,
with a scarf or covering of some sort over her or his
head, leans. While the lead is being poured, the
kurşuncu recites prayers and commonly says, “It is not
my hand, it is the hand of our mother Ayse Fatma.”
After the lead has been poured – which creates a cloud
of steam that passes over the patient’s face – the
kurşuncu removes the solidified piece of lead and reads
it to divine the source of the evil eye. This is typically
repeated three times.
Outside of this basic ritual formulation, there is
remarkable variation, particularly in the many addi-
tional items that accompany the lead pouring and what
the kurşuncu instructs the patient to do with them. For
instance, items such as onions, bread, salt, oil, coal,
keys, soap, strainers, brooms, forks, and gold rings can
be utilized within kurşun dökme rituals. After finishing
the lead pouring, the patient can be given specific
instruction about what should be done at home and
what should be done with each item. Instructions can
include such things as not talking with or kissing
anyone, not telling anyone that their condition has
improved, throwing the water where no one will walk,
tossing the onion behind oneself without looking,
feeding the bread to a dog or cat, burying the bread at a
crossroads, and so forth.
Women who specialize in the pouring of lead
commonly learn the practice from older female relatives.
As children, they assist their elder relatives with the
ritual, thus learning the ritual variations of each healer. In
this regard, the relationship between female elder and
daughter or granddaughter is central to the succession of
healers. In addition to passing on the specifics of ritual
practice, this relationship is significant in that the ability
to heal is passed through the female line of a family. The
actual passing on of the ability to heal is described as
el vermek – to give one’s hand. As compared to other
forms of healing, this has perhaps shown relatively little
historical change (Dole 2002).
A second category of religious or ritual healing
widely practiced is that of the ocaklı. The practices of
the ocaklı are incredibly broad and overlap with kurşun
dökme. This form of healing, however, is not defined
so much by the ritual style of its healing, but its
association with holy or sacred ancestors. The term
ocak, the root of ocaklı, while having many connota-
tions (furnace, hearth, fireplace, mine, political body,
guild, fraternity), is associated here with the notion of
“family line.” To be ocaklı – literally, “with the ocak” –
connotes someone having special powers to heal based
upon their relationship to an ancestor. The ocaklı is thus
usually linked to a particular tomb, that of his or her
dead ancestor, which is generally located near his or
her home village.
While different ocaklı may perform very different
rituals, they all tend to be marked by a considerable
Medicine in Turkey 1593
specialization in regard to the problems treated. There
are respective ocaklı who, for instance, treat specifical-
ly warts, rashes, arthritis, shingles, and jaundice. In
addition to these more localized ailments, some ocaklı
were known for their ability to cure alcoholism, to
miraculously induce fertility for those who were unable
to conceive, and provide good fortune in general.
Although the ritual techniques of the ocaklı vary
considerably, the recitation of Quranic verses appears
to be consistently present. Many, as well, utilize
particular verses from the Qur˒ān known as şifa ayetler
(curative Quranic verses) that are recognized as being
particularly effective in treating specific problems.
While these verses are supposed to be effective no
matter who reads them, the ocaklı is regarded popularly
as having special powers in the realization of the
verse’s intent. Beyond this, there are some common but
less ubiquitous ritual components to the practice of the
ocaklı. Drawing or scratching (çizmek) on the skin is
one such practice, particularly for skin related ailments.
As with the kurşuncu, the efficacy of the ocaklı is
attributed to their inheritance of a special gift or power
to heal from an ancestor to whom miraculous or
extraordinary powers are accredited. Similar to the
kurşuncu as well, the training of the ocaklı typically
occurs through assisting an elder ocaklı as a child.
Although like the kurşuncu the ocaklı is customarily
elderly, unlike the kurşuncu both men and women can
be ocaklı. Likewise, both men and women go to ocaklı.
M
Similar to the kurşuncu, the practices of the ocaklı seem
to have changed little over the years and there appears
to be little difference between ocaklı practicing in rural
and urban settings.
While the ocaklı may be popularly ascribed titles like
ana (lit. “mother”) or dede (lit. “grandfather”), mention
should be made here of the distinct category of dede
among Turkey’s Alevi Muslim minority (comprising
approximately 20–25% of the total population). For the
Alevi, dede is a title used to describe someone whose
lineage can be traced back to Muh.āmmad through one
of the Twelve Imams. While a given village, or group
of villages, may be headed by a dede recognized as
having spiritual and moral authority, there are com-
monly many more dede who do not perform the
customary judiciary, ritual, and religious functions of
the dede who heads a village or group of villages.
These individuals are dedes principally in name only.
On occasion, however, particular dedes – in their
association with their lineage, or ocak – are considered
to have the ability to cure illness or fulfill wishes. While
at times referred to as an ocaklı, they may also be
described as a dede. The Alevi dede, however, is
distinct from the ocaklı discussed earlier, although the
latter may also be referred to as a dede. Among
Turkey’s Sunni Muslim majority, there is no figure that
precisely resembles the dede, as it is understood among
1594 Medicine in Turkey
the Alevi. In terms of the more general category of
ocaklı, however, there were few discernable differences
in how the Alevi ocaklı and the Sunni ocaklı practiced.
The third form of healing, that of the cinci hoca or
üfürükçü, treats a range of illnesses and problems
which typically involve people being struck, harassed,
or possessed by spirits (cin) or fairies (peri). Hence the
title cinci (exorcist) hoca (teacher, or more specifically
Muslim teacher or cleric). The cinci hoca, however,
does not only treat those who have already been
affected by cin. They may also work to control cin, and
thus bring harm upon others. In this regard, such
cinci hoca are considered practitioners of magic (büyü).
Furthermore, their characteristic ritual blowing over
either the patient while being prayed for or over the
object being made serves as the basis for the title
üfürükçü, itself a derivative of the verb üfürmek, to
blow on someone or something. Although they address
an incredible range of problems, the most common
ones are epilepsy, nightmares/fright (korku), adultery,
and a host of relationship problems.
Rather than an emphasis upon the inheritance of a
sacred gift, such as with the ocaklı and the kurşuncu,
the capacity of the cinci hoca to heal centers upon
training and the learning of specific ritual formulas.
Correspondingly, many hocas base their practice on
such texts as Gizli İlimler (Secret Sciences), Havasu’l-
Havas, and Kenzü’l-Havas. These books, which are
readily available at many religious bookstores, contain
extensive lists of ritual prescriptions that are said to
have been passed down from the distant past. A given
treatment is typically the result of computations based
on the Arabic equivalent of the letters of a patient’s
and that patient’s mother’s name, the patient’s birth
date, and the presenting illness, problem, or intention
(niyet). Based upon these, the book then provides the
appropriate ritual formula. This ritual formula can
include not only the appropriate prayers to be recited a
specific number of times and at specific times, but also
instructions for the production of different ritual objects
or talismans (tılsım).
The muska is by far the most recognizable object
produced by the hoca. A cinci hoca may also be
referred to as a muskacı – a writer of muska. The muska
is a sheet of paper over which a Quranic verse, a ritual
prescription, the patient’s name, the patient’s mother’s
name, and/or the object of the spell’s intent has been
written in Arabic. The paper is then folded, frequently
into a triangle, and put into a pouch. This pouch can
either be worn or placed on the body of the patient (e.g.,
around the neck, in one’s pocket), or can be placed in
prescribed locations to realize the desired effect. For
example, there are numerous accounts of muska being
placed under a bed so as to block the sexual drive of a
person. Alternatively, the muska can be burned or
soaked in water, after which the water is consumed
(Eyuboğlu 1987, 1998). Although there are instances
of female cinci hoca, male cinci hoca are far more
prevalent. Both women and men, however, visit the cinci
hoca. The cinci hoca is a highly controversial figure
and the target of considerable animosity (Dole 2006).
In many a neighborhood mosque, or cami, the local
imam may treat members of the community for various
problems using some of the same practices as the
üfürükçü. While any imam, or cami hoca as they are
sometimes distinguished from the cinci hoca, would
fervently disagree with being compared to the cinci
hoca, many imams utilize similar rituals treatments for
the ill, assign enormous importance to the şifa ayetler,
and incorporate the ritualized blowing over the patient
while reciting prayers. There are however drastic
differences. The imam does not utilize the astrological
and numerological aspects of the üfürükçü’s practice.
Outside of perhaps writing out the şifa ayet for the
patient, the imam also does not utilize talismans such as
the muska. Finally, the cami hoca tends to treat minor
ailments and does not venture into the realm of magic
and witchcraft. On theological grounds, imams cate-
gorically denounce the work of the üfürükçü as not part
of Islam. The cami hoca is relatively rarely utilized and
not typically conceived of as representing a specific
tradition of healing.
The fourth, and far less prevalent tradition of
healing, is that of the evliya. Although the meaning
of the term is most closely approximated with the
English concept “saint,” one should be careful not to
assume a homogeny between Christian and Islamic
notions of sainthood. Nonetheless, an evliya, as with a
saint, is broadly definable as a person acknowledged as
possessing extraordinary spiritual powers, which in
turn connotes exceptional status. An evliya is com-
monly defined as a possessor of keramet, the God-
given power to perform miracles. Unlike the ocaklı, the
saint’s power does not necessarily have to be the result
of being a descendant of a holy person; they are the
holy person from whom the ocaklı will be descended
and to whom a türbe, or tomb, will most likely be
dedicated. Türbe visitation is an extremely popular
tradition in Turkey and commonly coincides with
requests for cures (Olson 1991, 1994). It could possibly
be viewed as its own form of traditional medicine,
although no designated healing practitioner is com-
monly associated with tomb visitation.
Although there are no specific passages in the Qur˒ān
that authorize the recognition or veneration of saints,
saint worship is nevertheless extremely popular. The
existence of those recognized as living saints is
however still rare. It should be noted that unlike
Christian sainthood, particularly in Catholicism, there
is no formal system of canonization when discussing
the evliya. Evliya are, in many regards, “self made”
(Faroqhi 1979:658). As with the Christian saint,

though, the principal task or duty of the evliya is to
intercede with God on behalf of petitioners or
supplicants. While being able to heal is one of the
commonly ascribed God-given powers of the evliya,
they are not solely healers. Because the centrality of their
efficacy revolves around an ability to perform miracles
and speak directly with God, training is of little
significance for the evliya’s authority. Though there is
supposed to be only one evliya on earth at any given
time, scattered throughout Turkey are nonetheless
rumors of numerous saints appearing and disappearing.
Other than the principally religious based forms of
healing discussed earlier, there are also prominent
forms of healing for which there is limited scholarship.
For instance, the use of herbal remedies is widespread
in Turkey. In addition to frequently being self-
prescribed, one can find individuals in both urban
and rural areas who have received special training in
mixing medicinal herbs. Additional healing specialists
that were in the past particularly widespread in rural
areas of Turkey are the kemikçi (bone-setter) and the
traditional midwife (Önder 2005).
The traditional healing practitioners described earlier
constitute significant aspects of local health care systems,
and people (from all backgrounds) seek their assistance
for a variety of reasons. Most commonly, they are
utilized alongside biomedical treatments. With the
exception of perhaps the evliya, such practitioners are
not leaders of religious groups or organizations. They are
individuals who, like others, assume a variety of social
positions – neighbor, greengrocer, butcher, relative – but
have acquired a body of specialized knowledge that
bestows upon them a certain degree of reverence.
References
Çelik, İsmail. Nazar, Nazarlık, ve İlgili Büyüsel İşlemler.
Boğaziçi Üniversitesi Halkbilim Yıllığı, 133 (1974): 155–84.
Dole, Christopher. Mass Media and the Repulsive Allure of
Religious Healing: The Cinci Hoca in Turkish Modernity.
International Journal of Middle East Studies 38.1 (2006):
31–54.
---. In the Shadows of Medicine and Modernity: Medical
Integration and Secular Histories of Religious Healing in
Turkey. Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry 28.3 (2004):
255–80.
---. Outlaws, Swindlers, and Authentic Healers: Legitimacy,
Identity, and Religious Healing in Urban Turkey. Ann
Arbor, MI: University Microfilms, 2002.
Eyuboğlu, İsmet. Anadolu Büyüleri. İstanbul: Der Yayınları,
1987.
---. Anadolu İlaçları. İstanbul: Toplumsal Dönüşüm Yayın-
ları, 1998.
Faroquhi, Suraiya. The Life Story of an Urban Saint in
the Ottoman Empire: Piri Baba of Merzifon. İstanbul
Üniversite Fakültesi Tarih Dergisi 32 (1979): 651–76.
Maloney, Clarence. The Evil Eye. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1976.
Medicine wheels 1595
Olson, Emelie. Of Türbe and Evliya: Saints’ Shrines as
Environments that Facilitate Communication and Innova-
tion. Structural Change in Turkish Society. Ed. M. Kıray.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991, 75–94.
---. The Use of Religious Symbol Systems and Ritual in
Turkey: Women’s Activities at Muslim Saints’ Shrines.
The Muslim World 84.2–3 (1994): 202–16.
Önder, Sylvia. We Have No Microbes Here: Healing
Practices in a Turkish Black Sea Village. Durham, North
Carolina: Carolina Academic Press, 2005.
Medicine Wheels
L AWRENCE T YLER
The Indians of the North American Plains, because
of their nomadic ways, were not dependent upon
permanent settlements and structures. Aside from rings
of stone left after tipis were moved there is little
evidence of construction left by these tribes. The noted
exceptions to this generalization are the formations
known as “Medicine Wheels”. More than one hundred
of these formations have been found in North America
ranging through Saskatchewan, Alberta, Montana,
North Dakota, Wyoming, and Northern Colorado.
These sites are all located north to south, within a
few hundred miles of the eastern boundary of the
Rocky Mountains, suggesting the migratory patterns
M
of the Native American culture of this area. They
are distinguished from tipi rings and camp sites by
their size and by the spokes or arms which radiate
from a central cairn. These formations are found in
isolated locations, inappropriate to community dwell-
ing. Always of native stone, these “wheels” usually
consist of a central hub of stone, and/or an inner circle,
from which other stone lines radiate out toward the
horizon. They are not meticulously constructed but
rather seem like a design that a few workers could put
together in a matter of days. However, the dimensions
are sometimes substantial. The Bighorn Wheel in
Wyoming, for example, has a central hub about 12 ft
across; with radiating spokes 90 ft in length.
The existence of many of these stone formations
has been known for at least a century. The Bighorn
Medicine Wheel was reported in the 1880s by explorers
and prospectors; by radio carbon analysis it has
been dated AD 1600–1700. The first archaeologists
to investigate the Bighorn site asked local Native
Americans about its use or origin but initially none of
the tribes claimed responsibility for its existence or
knowledge of its use. Gradually stories emerged, but
there is always the question of whether the informants
were creating the sort of responses that they thought
anthropologists wanted to hear. In point of fact, none of
the indigenous groups, such as Sioux, Cheyenne, and
1596 Metallurgy in Africa
Arapaho, have folk legends and traditions which either
explain or validate the role of Medicine Wheels in their
traditional cultures.
Until the 1970s, the generic explanation for
Medicine Wheels was that they must have been of
“ceremonial” use, though no one was forthcoming with
any detailed account of just what ceremony. The Sioux
and Cheyenne are known for their Sundance ceremo-
nies, for which special circular medicine lodges were
built. Some observers have been tempted to point out
the spatial similarities between the circular medicine
lodges built around a living tree used as the center pole
with roof and walls radiating from that center and
the medicine wheels with central cairn and radiating
spokes. The symbolic similarity may be clear, but real
intent and purpose remain unknown. So until the 1970s,
Medicine Wheels were at most a curiosity of Plains
Indian culture neither well known nor well explained.
Then an integrative approach called archaeoastronomy,
linking the previously separate disciplines of archaeology
and astronomy, emerged as a new way of examining
ancient phenomena. Basically its unifying theme is to
examine megalithic and prehistoric formations for
astronomical significance. One example of this is Gerald
Hawkins’ work documenting the astronomical align-
ments of Stonehenge in Salisbury, England. Soon
practitioners of both astronomy and archeology were
looking with renewed interest at ancient megaliths around
the world, including Medicine Wheels.
The astronomer John Eddy is most closely asso-
ciated with an archeoastronomical interpretation of
North American medicine wheels. He, in collaboration
with an archeological team, studied several medicine
wheels, including the Bighorn Wheel in Wyoming and
the Moose Mountain Wheel (radio carbon dating,
AD 100–500) in Saskatchewan. His findings suggested
that many such formations could have been used
as landmarks in the rolling plains of an otherwise
undistinguished terrain. The simplest of these seem
only to point to other stone formations, in the same way
guideposts mark long trails across isolated lands.
However, for both the Bighorn and Moose Mountain
wheels, Eddy notes solar and stellar alignments that
could have been used for solstice calculation. Normally
solstice observation is associated with agricultural
societies, but nomadic groups such as Plains Indians
also needed techniques for anticipating the severe
weather changes of the northern plains. While such an
interpretation is not conclusive, various studies are now
suggesting that the Plains Indians were very careful
observers of the evening sky as well as the land. The
Medicine Wheels may be indicators of their ability to
use markings on the earth to note celestial changes
in the sky and the corresponding journey of the seasons;
all useful information for high plains travelers. In
any case Medicine Wheels could have been of both
ceremonial and astronomical utility since the world
view of the plains tribes would have made no significant
distinction between spiritual and stellar forms.
References
Eddy, John A. Astronomical Alignment of the Bighorn
Medicine Wheel. Science 184 (1974): 1035–43.
---. Medicine Wheels and Plains Indian Astronomy. Technology
Review 80.2 (1977): 18–31.
---. Mystery of the Medicine Wheels. National Geographic
Magazine 151.1 (1977): 140–6.
Krupp, Edwin C. ed. In Search of Ancient Astronomies. New
York: Doubleday, 1977.
Nikiforuk, Andrew. Sacred Circles. Canadian Geographic
112 (1992): 50–60.
Tyler, Lawrence. Medicine Megaliths, Wheels and Man.d. alas.
The Midwest Quarterly 21.3 (1980): 290–305.
Metallurgy in Africa
S. T ERRY C HILDS
A condensed discussion of African metallurgy is
difficult because of the large size of the continent and
the 3,000 years over which it developed south of the
Sahara desert. Furthermore, several metals were
produced and used in Africa, and metal production
involved many technological steps which were not
necessarily used for each metal type (i.e., iron, copper,
gold, and tin). Iron production, for example, involved
mining iron ore and smelting it to a bloom, a nonmolten
mass of metal intermixed with a waste product called
slag. The bloom was then forged into objects by
hammering, welding, and other processes. Some
preindustrial societies made cast iron, a molten form
of iron, but there is little evidence for this technology in
Africa. Copper and copper alloys, on the other hand,
were often made by reducing ore into molten metal and
pouring it into molds, or by hammer forging solid
copper. Gold was hammered out from its original
nugget form, or melted and cast. Pellets of tin were
removed from the slag output of tin smelting and were
then melted into ingots. Moreover, not all societies
used the same metals or mastered the same manu-
facturing steps for any given metal. Some cultures
specialized in iron smelting, while others forged iron
blooms into objects. In copper producing areas, some
societies had craftsmen who cast molten copper into
molds, others hammered out unrefined copper, and still
others specialized in drawing out copper wire.
Much of the current knowledge about African
metallurgy concerns iron production. There are several
reasons for this. Iron has the clearest presence in the
archaeological record, iron ore is virtually ubiquitous

across Africa, and, for centuries, it was a subject of in-
terest to Greek and Arab travelers and, later, European
explorers, missionaries, and scholars. Copper smelting
and casting, as well as the production and use of bronze
(an alloy of copper and tin), brass (an alloy of copper and
zinc), and gold, have also received considerable atten-
tion. The more isolated occurrences of these technologies
across Africa in the archaeological and ethnographic
record, however, have resulted in less detailed recon-
structions of their diverse histories and their significance
to African cultures. Some tin production occurred in
southern and western Africa, but this is the least studied
indigenous metal and may have a relatively short history
as compared to iron, copper, and gold.
The prehistory and history of African metallurgy
come from several sources. Archaeological excavations
often yield metal objects, and/or the physical remains
of production centers (i.e., smelting furnaces contain-
ing slag, tuyères or blow pipes, and charcoal fuel;
forging pits; casting crucibles; molds). Increasingly,
archaeologists submit these remains to laboratory
analysis to determine how an object was made, or the
chemical and physical dynamics of an ancient metal-
lurgical process, its environmental context, and its age
by radiocarbon dating. Some scholars conduct collabo-
rative research with village elders who still remember
how to smelt and forge iron, or cast copper. Several
projects have resulted in important films which under-
score the complexity of many metallurgical operations,
provide critical insights into poorly understood ancient
practices in Africa and worldwide, and highlight the
nontechnical aspects of production. Some researchers
also perform experimental reconstructions of metallur-
gical processes to understand further the thermody-
namics involved. A final source of information is the
archival record of numerous visitors to Africa over
the centuries. The reports from the early twentieth
century first featured the nontechnical characteristics
of African metallurgy, including esoteric knowledge,
decorated furnaces, ritual, music, and taboos.
The following discussion begins with a brief
overview of the prehistory of African metallurgy, then
examines the technical diversity of metallurgical prac-
tices across Africa, and concludes with a look at its social
and ideological components.
Although this review principally concerns Africa
south of the Sahara desert, the earliest evidence of
metal production and use was in Egypt. Copper was
first used there around 5000–4000 BCE and was being
smelted by 3000 BCE. Iron objects were rare through
the Middle Bronze Age, but became more frequent
during the New Kingdom after about 1570 BCE. Iron
smelting was practiced by the eighth century BCE.
Ancient Egyptian metallurgy had no influence on the
rest of the continent except to the immediate south in
Nubia and the later kingdom of Kush, both in modern
Metallurgy in Africa 1597
Sudan. An Egyptian outpost was established in Nubia
to smelt local copper ores in 2600 BCE, and Egyptians
exploited Nubian gold from an early time. By the next
millennium, Nubian craftsmen worked copper, bronze,
silver, and gold. At Meroë (ca. 500 BCE to AD 300),
the capital of the Kushite state, there were craftsmen of
copper, bronze, gold, and iron. The earliest iron slag
from the site dates to the fifth century BCE; domed,
brick smelting furnaces, possibly of Roman influence,
were used after about 200 BCE.
There is controversy over two interrelated aspects
of the origins of metallurgy in sub-Saharan Africa
(1) whether it was invented indigenously or introduced
from elsewhere and (2) which metal – copper or iron –
was smelted first. Researchers looking for a “natural”
progression of pyrotechnological knowledge (i.e.,
simpler copper smelting to more complex iron smelt-
ing) to prove indigenous origins have been thwarted to
date. Copper smelting only seems to have preceded
iron smelting in Nubia and, during the early to mid first
millennium BCE, along the southern Sahara in Niger
and Mauritania. Current evidence shows that iron
appeared first or at the same time as copper in the rest
of sub-Saharan Africa. Other than at Meroë, the earliest
indications of iron smelting are in Nigeria (ca. 900–
800 BCE), Niger (ca. 500 BCE), Rwanda/Burundi
(ca. 700–500 BCE), and Tanzania (ca. 300 BCE).
Many archaeologists believe that knowledge of iron
smelting was brought from abroad, but they cannot
M
agree on the route of introduction. Several routes have
been proposed (1) Egypt to Meroë, then west and
south, (2) from the Phoenician or Roman coast of North
Africa across the Sahara desert, and (3) via the Indian
Ocean. The first has been ruled out because of the early
evidence of iron smelting in West Africa. Little else can
be resolved until issues over radiocarbon dating are
settled, excavations are conducted in poorly explored
regions, including the North African coast and
Ethiopia, extensive historic linguistics are done, and
the possibility that more than one route existed is
carefully investigated. It is now recognized, however,
that iron and copper were introduced to different
regions of Africa at different times.
Iron working spread from the regions of early
introduction in West Africa, Sudan, and East Africa to
Southern Africa in 500–700 years. This rapid expan-
sion was once thought to be linked to the movement of
Bantu-speaking agriculturalists as they traveled south
and east from their homeland in present-day Cameroon,
over 3,000 years ago. Recent archaeological and
historic linguistic evidence discredits this theory.
Traces of early iron smelting have been found in
modern Gabon and Congo, but not in northeastern
Zaïre. Historic linguistics suggest that iron working in
East Africa probably had northeastern, not western,
origins. The earliest evidence of copper smelting to the
1598 Metallurgy in Africa
south of Cameroon, on the other hand, occurs by the
fourth century AD in copper-rich areas on the Congo
coast and in northern Zambia/southeastern Zaïre at
about the same time as iron working.
Intensified use of iron, copper, bronze, gold, and
brass during the first and second millennia AD was
connected to, but not the cause of, the rise of African
states, urbanization, and the development of long
distance trade routes in some regions. For example,
the city of Jenne-Jeno in present-day Mali was well-
developed by the third century AD. It did not begin
to receive gold from across the Sahara desert until
around the eighth–ninth centuries AD or brass (a known
import based on the nonindigenous zinc present in
the alloy) until the ninth–tenth centuries AD. Jenne-
Jeno then became a major trade center in metals. In
southern Africa, a long distance trade in gold developed
between people living in modern Zimbabwe and those
in coastal towns on the Indian Ocean by the tenth century,
on the back of an earlier trade in ivory and skins.
A powerful state with its capital at Great Zimbabwe
(AD 1275–1550) prospered, in large part, by taxing the
gold mined and traded from this region. Bronze, a
golden alloy of copper and tin, also was developed in
the area around this time, but little is presently known
about the technology and its local significance.
In many other parts of Africa at this time, relatively
small quantities of iron and/or copper were produced,
used, and traded locally. The diversity of mining,
smelting, and forging techniques that developed over
the last two millennia is extensive.
Metal ores, such as specular hematite, malachite, and
galena, may have been mined many millennia ago in
sub-Saharan Africa, but they were ground to powders
for cosmetics. Once ores were mined for smelting,
several techniques were developed depending on the
type of ore exploited and the physical and technical
constraints encountered.
A similar array of mining techniques was developed
for copper, iron, gold, and tin across Africa. Some
copper and gold ores differed from iron and tin ores in
one critical way, however: they could be found in their
native metallic state. Mining for native metals involved
picking up workable nuggets, panning for and con-
centrating metal flakes in watery contexts, or digging
shafts along seams of metal. This was often labor
intensive, such as in ancient Zimbabwe where gold
mining involved considerable digging, crushing the
matrix rock, and then amassing the gold by panning.
African miners exploited the oxide minerals of
copper, iron, and tin at or near the earth’s surface for
smelting. They dug narrow shafts until the ore was
exhausted, the shaft was unsafe, or they reached water.
Large open ditches were also excavated. Both techni-
ques required metal tools and, in the latter case, fire-
setting was also used to break up the rock. Often, the
matrix rock had to be crushed to concentrate the ore.
Cases also existed of panning to concentrate rich iron
ores dispersed in sandy matrices. While many aspects
of African metallurgy were performed and controlled
by men, the labor of carrying the ore, panning, and
working in the narrow shafts was often done by women
and, probably, children.
A facet of African metallurgy that has long intrigued
scholars is the bewildering diversity of iron smelting
furnaces over lime and across space. At a very general
level, three types of furnaces were built: pit or bowl
furnaces lacking walls and operated by bellows and
tuyères; shaft or walled furnaces with a pit beneath,
also operated by bellows and tuyères; and tall furnaces
(ca. 2.5–4 m), often without a pit, that used natural
draft to stimulate combustion. Within each general
type, there was enormous variation based on whether or
not slag was tapped from the furnace during smelting,
numbers of tuyères, bellows type, pit depth and dia-
meter, height and shape of the furnace walls, building
materials, decoration on the furnace walls, and
presence/absence of interior furnace features.
Some scholars have theorized a chronological
sequence for these general furnace types, from
“primitive” pit furnaces in which wrought iron was
made to shaft furnaces in which low grade steel was
produced to natural draft furnaces. Regional and local
variations would have then developed over time.
Recent findings reveal that the earliest furnaces all
had walled shafts, and that a heterogeneous bloom,
varying from soft wrought iron to high grade steels,
could be produced in each furnace type. It is now
generally thought that furnace variation was a response
to certain local constraints, such as ore types, but
primarily to the different sociocultural contexts into
which iron smelting was brought or developed.
Less is known about African copper smelting
because it was practiced less widely and has been the
subject of less research and ethnographic observation.
Most copper smelting furnaces were the shaft type, but
considerable variation existed based on whether the
molten copper was tapped directly from the furnace
into molds or was melted in crucibles within a furnace.
Pit size, building materials, wall height and shape,
number of tuyères, bellows type, mold sizes and
shapes, and wall decoration also varied.
Gold was not smelted, but melted in crucibles over
an open fire. There is little evidence of gold extraction
technologies in Africa except for occasional pieces of
gold-encrusted crucibles from Zimbabwe and South
Africa. Tin ore, like iron ore, had to be smelted or
reduced in a furnace, but little is known about the
processes used or when they were developed. An
ethnographic account from Nigeria indicates that tin
and iron ores were cosmelted and tin was removed
from the slag. In South Africa, tin ore was smelted in

tiny furnaces, pellets of tin were extracted from crushed
slag, melted in crucibles, and cast in molds.
The fabrication techniques used to transform raw
metal into objects were also diverse and varied by type
of metal and region. Iron and steel, for instance, were
always hammered into shape, but many types of
hammers and anvils were used over the continent. Skill
at welding together pieces of iron and/or steel and other
joining techniques varied widely. Evidence that iron
was drawn out into wire comes from East Africa and to
the west in modern Angola, but the history of this
technique is vague. Interestingly, no evidence of pre-
colonial heat treatment of steel (i.e., quenching it in water)
to harden and strengthen an object has been found.
Copper was manipulated in several ways: hammer
forging solid metal into various forms; drawing out
wire; casting molten copper into molds; and alloying
copper with another metal, like tin to make bronze, and
then casting the alloy (the ability to cast copper is
improved by adding tin). Evidence to date suggests that
a sophisticated lost-wax casting technology (intricate
forms are made of wax and encased in clay; molten
metal is poured into the mold which replaces the wax)
was developed in West Africa by the ninth–tenth
century AD. The site of Igbo Ukwu in Nigeria has
yielded remarkable castings that were followed by later
traditions at nearby Ife and Benin.
Igbo Ukwu also provides the earliest evidence of
bronze which was used to make many lost-wax
castings. Investigations into whether bronze alloying
was an indigenous discovery in West Africa is ongoing.
The only other region where bronze alloying developed
was around present-day Zimbabwe, although little is
known about the stimulus and dating of this technolo-
gy. It probably arose after the beginning of the maritime
trade along the Indian Ocean, perhaps in the eleventh–
twelfth centuries AD, and was used to make wire,
beads, and simple two-sided mold castings. Brass, the
alloy of copper and zinc, on the other hand, was used
extensively for lost-wax casting in West Africa
beginning around AD 1000, although the metal itself
was imported into Africa from across the Sahara Desert
and along the West and East African coasts.
There is no evidence of lost-wax casting outside
West Africa, although casting traditions did exist.
Open-faced or one-sided molds seem to have been
used to cast copper into bar shapes as early as the
seventh century AD in present-day Zambia. In the
Zaïre–Zambia copper belt region, cross-shaped molds
were made by the ninth–eleventh centuries AD in
northern Zambia, but not until the fourteenth century
in southeastern Zaïre. These ingots were then traded.
Objects were made as the ingots or raw metal were
hammer forged into sheet, rods, ribbon, and other shapes.
Drawing copper into wire, a fabrication technique found
in Central, Eastern, and Southern Africa, was used by
Metallurgy in Africa 1599
the mid-second millennium. The history of its develop-
ment and spread is unknown, although iron/steel draw
plates for wire were found at Ingombe Ilede, Zambia,
dating to the fourteenth–fifteenth centuries AD.
Gold objects tended to be produced by the same
techniques as copper in a given region. Lost-wax
casting of gold in West Africa, such as among the
Asante of present-day Ghana, is particularly exquisite.
Wire drawing of gold was also practiced in West
Africa. At ancient Zimbabwe, gold was usually
hammered to shape beads, wire, and sheet. Finally,
there is no evidence that any objects were made of
pure tin in Africa. Occasional ingots cast of tin are
found in South Africa, presumably for used trade.
A critical part of African metallurgy that has not been
discussed is the nontechnical – the social organization of
labor, the use of space, and the esoteric knowledge,
rituals, taboos, special clothing, and music involved.
The innumerable processes of African iron and copper
smelting, in particular, were complicated mixtures of
technique, special knowledge, and ritual controlled
and designed by men to ensure success and circumvent
danger and malevolence. This involved not only
pleasing the ancestors, but countering the acts of sorcery
that were perceived to be a threat to the process.
Central to this examination is the recognition that all
social activity, including technology, must be explained
and done so within a framework meaningful to the
people involved. Questions concerning the sources of
M
ore, how rocks become shiny metal, why some smelts
are unsuccessful, and what slag is are answered in
modern, Western societies by scientific principles of
geology and engineering. In pre-colonial Africa, these
questions were resolved through principles based
largely on human physiology and social structure.
A compelling framework was offered recently to
consider how many pre-colonial African societies
explained metallurgical activities. This is based on
two fundamental aspects of human experience – gender
and age. Gender concerns the interaction of males and
females through a life cycle, but focuses on one critical
stage of life that is not shared. Women are capable of
transformation and creation through their ability to give
birth, a process that is interrupted by monthly periods
of sterility and ends at menopause. The links between
women, production, and reproduction are poignant.
Male metal workers could only generate similar creative
forces with which to transform rock into metal and then
into objects by controlling and appropriating women’s
natural abilities through symbol, metaphor, and ritual.
The axis of age encompasses the relationships
between youth and elders, as well as between the living
and the dead. In many African cultures, the human life
cycle involves the accumulation of wisdom and power
through adulthood. Greatest power is acquired as an
ancestor. Thus, elders have the expertise and knowledge
1600 Metallurgy in Africa
to demand and exploit the labor of youth in most
activities, including metallurgy; the ancestors have
ultimate power over all significant activities of the
living, particularly its reproduction. Integral to mining,
smelting, and fabricating metal objects, therefore, was
gaining and maintaining ancestral approval.
The cultural influences of gender and age were most
obvious during iron and copper smelting – technologies
of transformation and creation with many opportuni-
ties for failure. These influences were manifested in
highly diverse ways. Often, smelting involved rituals
and song that simulated significant times in the life
of a productive woman, such as marriage, pregnancy,
and birth. The Fipa of Tanzania, for example, adorned
and treated a newly built iron smelting furnace as
a bride who would have many children. The furnace
was perceived as a “wife” to the iron smelters in
many African cultures, such as the Phoka of Malawi.
Furthermore, various parts of furnaces were often
given the same names as female body parts, particularly
those related to sexuality and birth. The Shona of
Zimbabwe, the Chokwe of Angola, and others were
more explicit and built their furnaces as women. They
decorated the walls with breasts and scarification,
denoting fertility, and the bloom sometimes came out
between leg-like projections. Rituals also were used to
consecrate new iron forges or tools which drew
analogies between the anvil/hammer (the most impor-
tant tool of a smith) and a second wife, such as among
the Nyoro of Uganda, or a child, such as among the
Ondulu of Angola.
Both age and gender strongly affected the roles
played and choices made during metal working,
including the significant influence of ancestral spirits,
the technical and ritual expertise of elders, the work
load of the youth, and the exclusion of women.
Although women were often miners in cultures with
labor shortages, all women, particularly pregnant or
menstruating ones, were excluded from smelting
operations. Prepubescent girls and postmenopausal
women, however, sometimes participated in presmelt-
ing rituals or cooked and transported food to the
smelters. Furthermore, strong taboos existed to prevent
men from having sexual relations prior to a smelt. Such
behavior represented infidelity to the furnace, and
adultery was often thought to cause miscarriages in
pregnant women. Furnaces were usually placed far
away from villages to minimize this potential threat.
These rules of participation were designed to please
the ancestors by preventing the presence of forces –
uncontrolled fertility and temporary sterility – that
might jeopardize a productive metallurgical operation.
Young girls and postmenopausal women were not
threatening because of their lack of fertility and active
sexuality. The rules also served to separate metalwor-
kers from the general public as people with special
knowledge and capabilities. Many accomplished metal
workers became wealthy members of their societies, as
well as important political figures.
Other forces influenced how a smelt proceeded and
how failure was explained, including visible problems
with the materials or technical steps used. In less
obvious circumstances, however, a common explana-
tion for failure was sorcery by jealous villagers or by
competing metalworkers. Since iron, copper, bronze,
brass, and gold workers were often relatively rich and
powerful men, they sometimes became foci of envy.
Actions to avert evil spells, therefore, involved meti-
culous attention to the preparation and placement of
medicines in and around a furnace and, sometimes, a
forge. Ethnographic and archaeological evidence reveal
that the placement of medicines inside furnace pits has
been practiced for two millennia. As a result of this
integral part of the metallurgical process, metalworkers
were often believed to be sorcerers and/or people with
special powers. Particularly skilled metalworkers were
regularly in demand by the general public for their
abilities to heal and divine.
Two significant lessons – actually two sides of the
same coin – may be learned from the study of African
metallurgy (1) a technology can exhibit tremendous
variation through time and across a continent and
(2) a technology is a system that is at the same time
technical, economic, social, ideological, and political.
A technological system affects and is affected by the
culture and society in which it operates such that a great
diversity of associated behavior and knowledge may
result over time and space. Unfortunately, all the
complexity and variation of African metallurgy will
never be fully appreciated and known, particularly as
the elderly experts die with much of their precious
knowledge untapped.
See also: ▶Technology and Culture
References
Childs, S. Terry. Style, Technology and Iron-smelting
Furnaces in Bantu-speaking Africa. Journal of Anthropo-
logical Archaeology 10 (1991): 332–59.
Childs, S. Terry and David J. Killick. Indigenous African
Metallurgy: Nature and Culture. Annual Review of
Anthropology 22 (1993): 317–37.
Cline, Walter. Mining and Metallurgy in Negro Africa.
Menasha, WI: Banta, 1937.
David, Nicholas and Yves LeBléis. Dokwaza, Last of
the African Iron Masters (Film). Calgary: Depart-
ment of Communications Media, University of Calgary,
1988.
de Maret, Pierre. The Smith’s Myth and the Origin of
Leadership in Central Africa. African Iron Working. Ed. R.
Haaland and R. Shinnie. Oslo: Norwegian University
Press, 1985. 73–87.

Herbert, Eugenia. Red Gold of Africa. Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press, 1984.
Herbert, Eugenia. Iron, Gender and Power: Rituals of
Transformation in African Societies. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1993.
Mclntosh, Susan and Roderick Mclntosh. From Stone to
Metal: New Perspectives on the Later Prehistory of West
Africa. Journal of World Prehistory 2 (1988): 89–133.
Miller, Duncan and Nikolaas van der Merwe. Early Metal
Working in Sub-Saharan Africa: A Review of Recent
Research. Journal of African History 34 (1994): 1–36.
O’Neill, Peter, F. Mulhy, and Winifred Lambrecht. Tree of
Iron (Film.) Gainesville: Foundation for African Prehistory
and Archaeology.
Schmidt, Peter R. ed. Iron Technology in East Africa:
Symbolism, Science, and Archaeology. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 1997.
Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia
K ATHERYN M. L INDUFF
Background
The development of metallurgy is considered funda-
mental to the emergence of complex societies in many
regions of the ancient world. Until recently, little
evidence could be obtained to explain the emergence
and spread of metal technology in the third and second
millennia BCE in the Eurasian Steppe where life was
centered in kin-based, relatively independent pastoral
or agropastoral communities. Archaeologists in central
and eastern Eurasia have recently uncovered informa-
tion about early metal use and production by residents
of the steppe and the significance of this development
in the area east of the Urals and west of the Yellow
River. This is the area addressed in this essay.
Eurasia is a term given to the combined areas of
Europe and Asia. Eurasia forms the largest landmass
on the globe, or about 20,816,400 square miles. Many
geographers claim that this is one continent and
therefore that Europe is merely a peninsula of Asia.
But whatever one’s conception of continent, the area
extends from the Balkans to the Yellow Sea and links
Europe and Asia. Lying between the 40th and 50th
latitude of this enormous land belt is a steppe land with a
fairly uniform terrain with an average altitude of
between 500 and 1,000 m. Like the prairie across
much of the mid-section of the United States, this terrain
is covered either by coarse grass or low woods. Only one
mountain barrier with high forests, the Urals, crosses
Eurasia in a north–south direction, giving rise to the
nineteenth century conception of two continents of
Europe and Asia divided at the mountains. The Urals
are, however, merely an interval, rather than an
interruption, in the vast sweep of the Eurasian steppes.
Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia 1601
Decades ago studies on the beginnings of metallurgy
envisioned the setting in the centers of early civiliza-
tions. Mesopotamia and Egypt in the west and China
in the east, and early centers of production could be
documented in West and East Asia, but not in between
(Tylecote 1992; Moorey 1985; Knauth 1974). Both
the intellectual climate and the evidence available
conceptualized the advent of metal use as a spontane-
ous occurrence in a single ancient society. But, given
the discrepancy in start dates and distance between
the Near East (beginning as early as the fifth
millennium BCE) and the Far East (beginning at the
earliest about 3000 BCE), there has been much
speculation about what role, if any, Eurasia had in the
process of transmission. Researchers asked whether
such a complex technology could be transmitted across
the vast steppe to East Asia by the peoples of Eurasia or
whether it was spontaneously generated in the Far East.
Sites excavated in Eurasia, that is in the border
provinces of present-day northern and western China,
the Republic of the Altai, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, and
Russia east of the Urals, in the past two decades
document the production and use of metals as early as
the late fourth and third millennia BCE (Chernykh
1992: 190–234, 2000; Linduff et al. 2000; Linduff
2003). Based on a synthesis of the current Russian and
Chinese chronological and metallurgical information
from the area, it is possible that the entire area,
including north China, might be better understood as
M
part of a larger sphere of interaction that produced
metallurgical traditions that emerged during the late
fourth to the second millennium BCE. Technological as
well as typological differences found across the area
may be explained by noting the availability of ores,
use of artifacts, and social complexity and even the
environment of the generative societies. It is clear that
many regional traditions abound, but that movement
of ideas as well as artifacts, and people, perhaps
technicians more than whole groups, was likely and
was a stimulus for the transfer and invention of the
variety of technologies now known to have been
employed in this vast area.
The Problem
At the eastern edge of the Asian continent, analysis of
metallurgy has figured centrally, for its development
was thought to signal the advent of “historic Chinese
civilization.” In establishing ownership of the earliest
bronze, priority was conventionally given to central
China largely because it was where a high Bronze Age
civilization eventually arose. The areas adjacent to
ancient dynastic Chinese lands where early metallurgy
was documented, even as distant as southern Siberia
and Mongolia, were seen as peripheral to it as
independent centers of invention. The direction of
1602 Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia

exchange of people, ideas, artifacts and/or technology
in the area, was a topic hotly debated in the past, and is
no better exemplified than by the dispute between
Bernhard Karlgren (1945) and Max Loehr (1949a,b)
over bronze daggers and knives. They described the
differences in the weapon and tool inventories of each
area and agreed that there were two distinct traditions
represented by diagnostic artifacts known from a
limited number of excavations and from museum
holdings. China was represented by straight-edged
bronze knives; outward curving, hafted knives; single-
edged daggers with tangs decorated with conventional
Chinese motifs, particularly taotie (animal mask) and
dragon designs. The Eurasian (or Siberian) typology
included socketed axes; curved knives with naturalistic
images of animals on the pommels; and double-edged
short swords, also often with recognizable animal
designs on the handles (Fig. 1). The discussion was
focused on issues of cultural primacy and the dating of
the Siberian against the Chinese Bronze Age. Since no
carbon dates were available then, the discussion rested
on reasoning about typological sequencing. This debate
has persisted in the literature for many decades.
Based on her own fieldwork and that of others in
Russia and Kazakhstan, Legrand has recently reviewed
the discussion, but not with an eye toward solving the
debate over initial invention (2003). We now know that
the “Karasuk” and “Andronovo” material does not
represent the earliest use of bronze in either area and
that the broadly defined dichotomous model developed
by Karlgren and Loehr is far too simple to address the
question of the emergence and spread of metallurgical
technology, even in eastern Eurasia between the Altai
mountains and the Yellow River.
Among Chinese and Russian scholars, study of the
metal industry and proposals about who initiated
the technology have been affected by mutual lack
of information because of language barriers, and
especially by modern political borders and nationalistic
sentiments. The Chinese and Russian studies, as well as
the now-dated debate between Profs. Karlgren and
Loehr, presented judgments about the direction of

Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia. Fig. 1 Diagnostic Types of Copper and Bronze Object Categories from the
Seima-Turbino Complexes (Asian Centers). From: Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia from the Urals to the Yellow River.
Ed. Katheryn M. Linduff. Chinese Studies Vol. 31, Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2003. Fig. 1.10.

transmission for the technology that were based on
comparisons of style of artifacts and on relative dating
of each “host” culture. Their arguments, Karlgren as the
champion of Chinese and Loehr of Siberian prototypes
for certain artifacts and ultimately for the technology
itself, were mounted at times when excavated, tested,
and dated materials earlier than about 1250 BCE were
lacking, so that only the fully developed phases of the
second millennium BCE were studied. And, although
archaeologists and metallurgists still debate the diffu-
sionist and spontaneous generation models, new archae-
ological data, C14 dates and metallographic studies from
both Russia and China (Chernykh 2000; Linduff 2003)
permit a different way of thinking about the issue. After
the break-up of the Soviet Union, both Kazakh and
Mongolian Institutes of Archaeology have conducted
their own investigations and some of those results have
been reported as well (Goriachev 2003; Erdenebataar
2003). These studies are the first in English to document
carefully the earliest known use of bronze in each area.
In the current literature, there is another problem
worth mentioning. Field archaeologists, whether
trained in the Russian or Chinese intellectual tradition,
for the most part have defined cultures according to
pottery types and styles and discussed the transmission
of technology accordingly by these “archaeological
cultures.” The metallurgical scientists have looked at
metallurgical traditions first, and then connected them
with cultures. The application of a single term to
identify a “culture” such as the “Andronovo” in much
of Eurasia generalizes to the point where its descriptive
meaning is useless since it often ignores regional
cultures and perhaps even very different traditions
altogether (Korochkova and Stefanov 2003).
For instance, bronze artifacts that follow the shape
and style of ones called Andronovo or Seima-Turbino,
such as trumpet-shaped earrings and socketed axes, have
been excavated at a site called Huoshaogou, in Gansu
Province in western China and date from between 1900
and 1600 BCE (Linduff et al. 2000: 15–19). Russian
archaeologists might, on the basis of those objects,
identify Huoshaogou as an Andronovo or Seima-Turbino
culture site. One the other hand, no Chinese archaeolo-
gist has labeled it thus, but rather consider it as part of a
western extension of the “Yangshao” culture because the
painted pottery found at Huoshaogou, they say, is a
variant of the Yangshao diagnostic type known from the
central Chinese heartland. Not only is the terminology of
archaeological cultures true to neither “type” in this
case, the application of these labels obscures the nature
of the local setting. The site, its organization and use,
shows that this community both produced metal
artifacts, and also imported metal items for burial. The
issue here is not about to what “culture” they might
belong, but how the local community was constituted
Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia 1603
and connected to traders, metal workers, and each other.
Clearly the site and its regional neighbors absorbed
peoples and information from both their west and east,
but are quite self-sufficient and distinct.
Or, similarly, there is no doubt that the Semireiche
region in Kazakhstan is an important one for the
development and transmission of metallurgical materi-
als and technology throughout its immediate region as
well as to its east, especially into what is now western
China. Although the several pottery traditions have been
identified there have been variously labeled Andronovo
or Fedorovo, the distinctiveness of these sub-areas is
argued for by Goriachev while recognizing how
important large regional networks might have been to
them (2003). Such a network has been determined with
the excavation of a site where a massive mining effort
was recently identified and dated in the late fourth or
third Millennium BCE at Kargaly (Chernykh 2003).
Kargaly is now known, for example, to have supplied
large numbers of artifacts and raw materials to peoples
living to the west of the Urals. Another such network
probably connected patrons and metal manufacturers
living in areas to the west and east of the great tin loads in
the Altai Mountains (Chernykh 1992). The territorial
extent of these Eurasian trade networks are only
beginning to be understood, but the amount of data
now available allows us both to examine carefully local
operations as well as to speculate on how individual
societies might be connected others.
M
The Data from Southern Siberia, Kazakhstan,
and the Altai
Debates and assessments of incipient metallurgy and its
consequences in the ancient world now consider
several crucial factors:
1. Knowledge of the presence of ores and the corollary
existence or creation of trade networks
2. The presence of knowledgeable local and/or itin-
erant artisans who knew metals and their properties
3. A community able to support such workers, with a
degree of social and/or ritual complexity to create a
demand for metal products
4. The ability to create high temperature furnaces for
smelting and refinement of ores and final castings
The most sophisticated and earliest known metal-
producing industries were located in or near the more
complex societies in the Near East where these
products were used for many purposes ranging from
utilitarian to luxury items for use in everyday activities
to solemn rituals. The Eurasian metal period is on the
whole later than that in western Asia.
The publication of Evgenii Chernykh’s texts and
bibliographies on the early metallurgy in the USSR
1604 Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia

(Chernykh et al. 2003; Chernykh 1992, 2000, 2003)
and many reports on individual sites have provided
data on excavated materials from the territories between
the Near East and the current Chinese borders. In
addition, more complete reports on copper- and bronze-
using sites in Russia, especially those near the Ural
Mountains, such as Arkaim and Sintashta-Petrovka
(Gening 1992; Zdanovich 1997), have been published.
Chernykh and his colleagues in Moscow have collected
almost 2500 C14 dates from metal using sites across
Eurasia (Chernykh et al. 2000). The map of the earliest
known metal production from Chernykh’s essay (2003)
shows quite clearly that metals were part of village life
in Eurasia no later than the late fourth millennium
BCE (Fig. 2).
Chernykh defined “Metallurgical Provinces” as large
contiguous regions linked through shared utilization of
morphologically defined ornaments, tools, weapons; a
common technology of metallurgical production; avail-
ability of or access to the same metallurgical resources
often emerging into large trade networks; and compara-
ble dating (Chernykh 1992: 7–16). These provinces
cover distinct areas at different times and include discrete
sub-areas of metallurgical knowledge and metalwork-
ing. What he calls the Eurasian Metallurgical Province
(EMP) and its sub-category, called the Seima-Turbino
chronological horizon, date from the late fourth and third
millennia BCE, or Late Bronze Age, are the most
relevant here (Chernykh 1992: 7) (Fig. 3). Some artifacts,
such as fishhooks, awls, rings, and bracelets, are
ubiquitous in the Seima-Turbino contexts.
Although Kuz’mina challenges the method and
details of dating this complex against the Andronovo
(2003: 37–84), there seems to be little argument about
the importance of this metallurgical development. The
disagreements over the dating of each sub-area complex
depend at least in part on the methodology used to
establish a chronology. Chernykh depends largely on C14
testing with calibration (Chernykh et al. 2000). Since
carbon dates are never precise, Kuz’mina, for instance,
proposes that the most reasonable dating can be derived
from classification method using evolutionary-typologi-
cal analysis (2003). Her system finds the Andronovo (and
possibly the Fedorovo in Kazakhstan) and the Seima-
Turbino synchronous in the seventeenth century BCE
(2003). Many authors use a combination of both methods
(Korochkova 2003; Legrand 2003; Goriachev 2003).
More recently, however, regions called foci, or
distinct centers of production, were also identified
within the EMP (Chernykh 1992). For example, the

Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia. Fig. 2 Borders of the Eurasian Region and Main Archaeological Cultures (The
Early/Initial Phase). Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia from the Urals to the Yellow River. Ed. Katheryn M. Linduff.
Chinese Studies Vol. 31, Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2003.
 Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia 1605

Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia. Fig. 3 Borders of the Eurasian Province and Main Archaeological Cultures at
the Second Phase (The Period of Stabilization). Metallurgy in Ancient Eastern Eurasia from the Urals to the Yellow River.
Ed. Katheryn M. Linduff. Chinese Studies Vol. 31, Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2003. M
eastern region includes the Andronovo historico-cultural Currently available materials make clear these differ-
community and other archaeological cultures recognized ences, while recognizing that there is interchange
previously by archaeologists in the southern Urals and throughout this region no later than the third and early
central and northern and eastern Kazakhstan to the Altai second millennia BCE (Linduff 2003).
and Tianshan mountains (Kuz’mina 2003: Fig. 2.5). The Spectrographic analysis was carried out on all dated
significance of these regional centers is very evident in metal items from the Seima-Turbino area and Cher-
the study of sub-areas just east of the Ural Moun- nykh attributes fundamental innovations in metallurgy
tains (Korochkovo 2003) and in eastern Kazakhstan and metalworking to this region at this time; his
(Goriachev 2003) where small Andronovo/Fedorovo conclusions are based on analysis of the 422 metal
type metal objects have been excavated recently; and in objects and 30 casting moulds excavated from burials.
western China where similar metal items have also been In the “eastern focus” area (that is, up to the borders of
uncovered (Han and Sun 2003; Mei 2000, 2003). present-day China), only two examples of arsenic–
Although separated in many cases by large distances, copper were found; all other examples were tin–bronze
analogies in the shapes and décor of these metal objects (all from Rudny Altai, Rostovka). The curved knives
can and have been noted. In each case, however, regional with horse figures on the hilts, for instance, are all high
peculiarities such as pottery types or décor and/or quality tin–bronze and were found by him only in the
metallurgical traditions clearly mark important distinc- Altai. The vast quantity of tin ore in the Altai is given
tions which Chernykh claims constitute sub-areas of a as the reason for such a concentration of tin–copper
larger complex. For instance, unique types such as alloys in eastern and southern Siberia (Chernykh 1992:
socketed axes with hatched triangles and rhombuses, 224–226). By contrast, products typical of the western
forked-shank spearheads, and curved knives with ani- sub-area were made from “pure” and arsenical copper
mal (sheep and horses) and human subjects on the and billon found in abundance in the Urals. And,
pommel were made only in the eastern region in the Altai although tin–copper and tin–arsenic–copper products
and Tianshan. Because these items were used sparingly were found throughout the EMP defined by Chernykh,
in burial and were unique in décor, they have been only certain shapes such as ornately decorated Seima-
labeled “princely” artifacts (Chernykh 1992: 218–219). Turbino socket axes were excavated in the western
1606 Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia
region, suggesting that the axes were supplied in a
finished state (Chernykh 1992: 224, 2003). Finally,
Chernykh proposed that the Altai was the source of
particular tool types and chemical compositions of tin–
bronze and depictions of animals (Chernykh 2000). In
addition, jade and flint, bone tools and protective armor
are also exclusive to this area. The notion of an EMP
can be extended to include Xinjiang, and even probably
Gansu and various of the northern provinces in present-
day China, given the materials found and analyzed
there in the past couple of decades (Han and Sun 2000,
2003; Mei 2000, 2003; Linduff 1997; Linduff et al.
2000: 1–29).
The Data from the Northern Zone of China
Syntheses that investigate China usually view the
archaeological landscape during the fourth millennium
BCE as a mosaic of regional groups that interacted with
each other (Chang 1986). When dealing with the period
of early metal use however, most Chinese archaeolo-
gists have accepted a traditional model which regards
the Central Plain of northern China as the dynamic
center of social, political and technological change and
proposes that complex societies emerged in Asia
through a process of political expansion and cultural
diffusion from the Yellow River Basin (An 1982). The
elevated position of metal artifacts as well as the highly
specialized and sophisticated multipiece mould tech-
nology developed to produce them in early Chinese
society has led to the assumption/conclusion that
the commencement of metallurgy in East Asia was to
be found inside the early Chinese cultural, and/or even
the political sphere. Now this conclusion must be
reexamined because there is adequate information to
show that metal artifacts were locally produced in
enough volume to confirm their regular use all across
the Northern Zone. Moreover, the types of objects
found in this region as well as the component
percentages of metals in the alloy corresponds to metal
types and alloying formulae found in the EMP,
including both arsenic- and tin–bronzes (Sun and
Han 1997) and suggest that the advent of metallurgy in
this region was not a separate occurrence.
Over the past two decades, articles about more than
seventy sites that can be dated either by C14 and/or by
archaeological context earlier than 1500 BCE have
been published. These sites yielded metal artifacts and/
or metal production materials such as crucibles or slag,
and so forth. These sites date to the late fourth and third
millennia BCE (Linduff 1997: 306–418; Mei 2000).
The earliest metal-using communities are in Qijia/Siba
sites in Gansu, with comparable sites in Xinjiang in the
west, and others in Shandong, Liaoning and Inner
Mongolia in the east and north, and in the Central Plain
in the lowest levels at Erlitou. Because several levels of
excavations are C14 dated and those dates have been
matched up to ceramic types and styles, chronologies
are more secure. An approximate chronological
correspondence between the sites in the earlier eastern
Eurasian steppe and China is now clear, and suggests
that the emergence of metallurgy was supra regional
(Linduff 2000 et al.).
Analysis of both the Chinese and Russian data,
including metallic composition, casting technology, as
well as types and uses in the period from about 3000 to
1500 BCE has led to some surprising observations
about the advent of metallurgy in eastern Asia.
(Barnard 1993: 3–48; Barnard 1987: 3–37; Linduff
1997, 1998: 619–643). First, we can see that one of the
most striking, as well as usual, additions to late
Neolithic village life in northeastern Asia as far east
as the Russian Far East was the use of metals. Sites
where metals (including copper as well as alloyed
metals) were first used and manufactured are located
across a large area, showing that the growth of the
industry did not solely, or even primarily, occur in the
Central Plain. Moreover, preliminary observations on
the process and patterns of use of the technology
are both shared and diverse (Siba versus Erlitou)
(Sun et al. 2000).
Areas in China where metallurgical knowledge was
in use emerged near ore sources of metals, especially
copper in several combinations. For instance, arsenical
bronzes produced in Gansu at Siba sites must have been
manufactured by exploiting local arsenical copper
resources still available in present-day Gansu. All
areas developed a taste for items made from “pure”
copper and copper alloys, and gold items have been
found in the northeast and northwest China. Trumpet-
shaped earrings, for instance, have been found all over
eastern Eurasia and northern China and were made
from copper, tin–bronze as well as gold and sliver
according to the local preference. The lack of consistency
in formulae suggests that that knowledge was gained
from several sources and not through local invention
(Han/Sun 2000; 2003; Mei 2003).
In contexts where manufactured metal artifacts have
been found in China, excavated villages have yielded
evidence of both cultivated crops and domesticated
animals, as well as the continued practice of hunting
with improved arrowheads made of bronze, especially
in the northeast. Chernykh’s fanciful speculation that
the Seima-Turbino was formed though a fusion of
metallurgists and warrior horse-riders of the forest
zones of the Altai and eastern Siberian taiga mobile
hunters (1992) is supported in the recent excavations of
the village at Gorny (Chernykh 1998), Kargaly
(Chernykh 1997, 2003), and many others including
Arkaim and related sites (Zdanovich 1997). Located
close to vast resources of ores in the Urals, these
excavations reveal that isolated groups of miners and

metallurgists worked in specialized communities for
many generations supplying patrons across western,
and possibly eastern, Eurasia.
General Observations
The many shared traits discussed above suggest that
there was a “metallurgical network” of some type,
however loosely connected. The region is linked
through comparable artifact types, by closeness to
ores, and by shared metallurgical technologies not
easily transmitted without movement of craft workers
or even groups of travelers. The consistently local
character of pottery types and styles in sub-areas, as
well as the appearance of metal items with affinities to
cultural debris from Bronze Age southern Siberia, has
suggested that there was movement into the area of
western China, likely bronze producing peoples of
Andronovo background from eastern Kazakhstan and/
or Transbaikalia (Ke 1998; Linduff 1998; Mei 2000;
Kuz’mina 2000). Although animal sacrifice signified
status and/or leadership in burial and metal items
included tools, weapons and personal ornaments
associated with individuating societies in the region
of Gansu (Linduff 1997), metal items ultimately were
used to identify only elite members of a centralized
political unit at Erlitou in the center of early dynastic
China (Linduff 2000). As Kuz’mina suggests (2003)
the appearance of wheeled transport, metallurgy and
use and/or breeding of horses signal not only
movement of ideas, technology, and perhaps peoples,
but also significant societal change, often to a more
complex social order.
This change evidenced and discussed for the earlier
to middle second millennium BCE was not a one-time
affair. That was not the only period of interchange
between the peoples of western China and points west.
Continued stimulation, moving in both directions, can
be witnessed in the later second and early first
millennia BCE (Legrand 2003). Nor are the border
regions of present-day western China the limit of that
exchange system. Both local pottery and early metal
artifacts suggest that knowledge of metallurgical
traditions and artifact types extended into northeastern
China (Linduff et al. 2000) and into what is now the
Russian Far East (Konkova 2002).
Nevertheless, when considering the advent of
metallurgy in the late fourth and third millennia BCE,
all the criteria of the EMP defined by Chernykh are
found in the “Chinese” contexts. If separated from
modern nationalistic and centric views of ancient
culture and considered as part of a larger metallurgical
context, even the multipiece-mould casting method
developed in the late second millennium BCE at
Erlitou, seen as a hallmark invention of early dynastic
China, may be seen as a local technological variation
Metallurgy in ancient Eastern Eurasia 1607
within the easternmost Eurasian territory made for
specialized ritual use.
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Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron
and Steel
R. B ALASUBRAMANIAM
Early ideas about the Aryan migration theory and the
introduction of iron into India from the West have now
been proved to be incorrect. For example, Pleiner (1971)
proposed that so-called Aryans had no iron production
until the second half of the first millennium BCE, and
that there was no iron export to the West from the area of
the Aryans, whom he assumed to be “the Sanskrit
speaking people.” However, there are firm dates for the
advent of iron in the Indian subcontinent before this
period. The independent origin of iron has been con-
vincingly argued by Chakrabarti (1992). Agrawal and
Kharakwal (2002) have compiled radiocarbon dates of
excavated iron manufacturing sites in the Indian sub-
continent. The earliest available date, 3050–90 BP, is
from Raja-Nala-Ka-Tila in Uttar Pradesh (Tiwari 2003).
The primacy of iron technology in the Indian
subcontinent is well established and there are several
published books on the state of ancient Indian iron
technology (Neogi 1914; Chakrabarti 1992; Biswas
1996; Tripathi 2001; Balasubramaniam 2002). The
metallurgy of iron and steel in ancient India is the topic
of this article, which includes the working of iron, the
extraction of iron and salient features of ancient Indian
iron. Some objects illustrating the skill of the Indian
blacksmiths are provided. The Delhi Iron Pillar (Fig. 1)
illustrates the pride of Indian blacksmithy skills.
Metal Extraction
The direct reduction method of iron extraction was
used for a fairly long period in India’s history. Iron
lumps were the starting material for the fabrication of
most objects.
Iron melts at 1,540°C and the ancient Indian furnaces
were incapable of attaining this high a temperature. The
various aspects of construction and operation of ancient
Indian iron furnaces (called bloomery furnaces because
 Metallurgy of ancient Indian iron and steel 1609

Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel. Fig. 1 Delhi

Iron Pillar located in the Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque in the
Qutub Complex at New Delhi.

the end product was an iron bloom) have been

discussed in the literature (see Tripathi 2001). The
ore for extracting iron was carefully collected by the
ironsmiths. Interestingly, specific ore was collected
depending on the end application. Preheating facilitated
breaking of the ores, and the fine dust was separated by
washing or by wind. The preheated iron ore and
charcoal were charged in alternating layers, the furnace
ignited and slowly heated to the reduction temperature
(1,000–1,200°C). Different designs of iron extraction
M
furnaces have been described in the literature. Their
heights ranged between 5 and 20 ft. A typical ancient
Indian bloomery furnace is schematically compared
with a modern blast furnace in Fig. 2.
Bellows placed at the bottom of the furnaces were
operated at a controlled rate. The iron ore had to be
reduced in order to obtain the iron. Iron ore is essentially
oxide of iron and it is reduced by the carbon monoxide
(CO) that is produced by the burning of charcoal in the
bloomery furnace (or coking coal in a modern blast
furnace). The other unwanted oxides, like silicon Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel.
Fig. 2 Comparison of (a) modern and (b) ancient furnaces
dioxide (SiO2), which is commonly found in iron ores,
for extracting iron from ore.
have to be removed and this was possible by the creation
of a liquid slag called iron silicate or fayalite FeSiO4 or
2FeO·SiO2. While some of the liquid slag flowed out of oxides (for example, wüstite FeO) and glassy phases
the bloomery furnace during the reduction of iron ore (due to calcium silicon phosphates). As a result of
to iron, some of the liquid slag still remained when the entrapped slag particles and iron oxides in the structure,
hot iron lumps were taken out of the furnace. Therefore, the specific gravity of ancient irons is lower than that for
the hot lumps that were extracted from the bloomery the purest form of iron (Fe).
furnace at the end of the heat (typically lasting for about The slag present in ancient irons is generally micro-
6 to 8 h) were immediately hammered. In this process, scopic in nature with a few in larger sizes. As the solid-
most of the entrapped liquid fayalitic slag flowed out state reduction resulted in a fine distribution of slag
of the solid reduced iron mass. However, it was not particles, it was difficult to completely hammer the
possible to remove all the entrapped liquid slags and slag out of the metallic matrix. The resulting sponge
ancient irons produced by the direct reduction process iron always contained some amount of entrapped slag
will always contain entrapped inclusions. The inclu- inclusions and unreduced FeO. These are not of uniform
sions are essentially composed of fayalite, some iron size and also not strictly uniform in composition.
1610 Metallurgy of ancient Indian iron and steel

Viewing the production of iron lumps from a powder

metallurgical viewpoint, the ancient Indians produced
iron “pre-forms” directly from iron ore which implied
that the powder production, powder consolidation, and
sintering1 processes were combined into one operation
(Dube 1990).
The end product of the extraction process was a lump
of iron that was subsequently used for a wide variety
of applications, either directly or after further heat
treatments. One important heat treatment that was
successfully conducted was controlled carburization of
iron in specially designed crucibles. The carbon content
of steel (i.e., an alloy of iron and carbon) was carefully
controlled by subsequent decarburization treatments.
It is important to control the carbon content in steel
because the mechanical properties of steel are critically
dependent on the carbon content. As a rule of thumb,
the higher the carbon content, the higher the strength
of steel.
The relatively small iron lumps produced in the
bloomery furnace were the starting materials for the
manufacture of large iron objects. The lumps were also
used, after suitable heat treatments, for manufacturing
agricultural (hoes, spades, sickles, and weeding forks), Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel.
household (knives, ladles, spoons, sieves, saucepans, Fig. 3 Gilded wrought iron Buddha image of the sixth
cauldrons, bowls, dishes, saucers, and tripods), build- Century AD, now in Lucknow State Museum.
ing (nails, clamps, staples, sheets, door handles, and
spikes), tools (anvils, hammers, scissors, saws, chains,
and smithy tools), and warfare (swords, javelins, armor,
helmets, and shield bases) items. A marvelous example
of a forge-welded object is the gilded Buddha head
from the Gupta period (320–600 AD) (Fig. 3).
With the advent of the carburization of iron, a special
type of high carbon steel was produced in India from as
early as the fourth century BCE. This steel was known
as wootz steel and it was much prized by warriors
because tough swords could be wrought from wootz
steel (Srinivasan and Ranganathan 2004). There were
several applications for wootz steel, like the manufacture
of tough swords (see Fig. 4), helmets (see Fig. 5), and
armor (see Fig. 6).

Classification
Ancient Indians were masters in the production of
iron and steel. The method of production of wrought
iron directly from the ore by the process of direct
reduction continued for a fairly long time, up to the end
of the eighteenth century AD. The Indians knew fairly
early about the beneficial aspect of carburizing iron
to increase its strength. The earliest evidence for

1
Sintering is a process in which fine solids are combined
into a porous mass that can then be added to the blast furnace.
These include iron ore fines, pollution control dust, coke
breeze, water treatment plant sludge, and flux.
Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel.
Fig. 4 Typical watered blade manufactured from wootz
steel.

carburization of iron dates to about 800 BCE (Ghosh
and Chattopadhaya 1982). The second urbanization of
India (i.e., settlements along the Ganga) was strongly
influenced by the steeling of iron.
Three principal varieties of iron were recognized
based on the carbon content. Each of these was further
subdivided into other varieties depending on the
composition and properties (Prakash 1991). Sanskrit
literary sources (for example, Rasa Ratna Samuch-
chaya dated to the eighth to twelfth century AD)
classify iron into three basic categories: wrought iron
(Kanta Loha), carbon steel (Tikshna Loha), and cast
iron (Munda Loha). Rasendrashār Samgraha also
mentions these three classifications and states that
“munda is ten times better than iron rust, tikshna
hundred times better than munda, and kanta million
Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel. Fig. 5 A
typical medieval Indian helmet fabricated out of wootz steel.
Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel. Fig. 6 Typical medieval Indian body protection gear wrought out
of wootz steel.
Metallurgy of ancient Indian iron and steel 1611
times better than tikshna iron.” These three basic
categories were further classified according to the
carbon content, heat treatment, and end use. Munda
was again subdivided into three varieties: mridu, which
easily melts and does not break and is glossy; kuntha,
which expands with difficulty when struck with a
hammer; and kadāra, which breaks when struck with
a hammer and has a black fracture surface. Six varieties
of tikshna were provided: khara, sāra, hrinnāla,
tārābatta, bājira, and kālaauha (black metal). One
variety is rough and free from hair-like lines and has a
quicksilver-like fracture surface, while another variety
breaks with difficulty and presents a sharp edge. Five
different varieties of kanta were recognized: bhrāmaka,
chumbaka, karshaka, drāvaka, and romakāntā. The
variety of iron which makes all kinds of iron move
about was called bhrāmaka; that which kisses iron was
called chumbaka; that which attracts iron was called
karshaka; that which at once melts iron was called
drāvaka and romakāntā was the kind which, when
broken, shoots forth hair-like filaments.
The ancient Indian iron furnaces were capable of pro-
ducing iron of consistent (low) carbon content-containing
entrapped slag inclusions (Tripathi 2001). Iron meant
for corrosion-resistant applications contained higher
phosphorous (P) contents. Therefore, it is reasonable to
conclude that the ancient Indian metallurgists pos-
sessed the art of manufacturing iron and steel according
to the desired application and corrosion-resistant steel
M
was one among them. The excellent corrosion re-
sistance of ancient Indian iron can be attributed to its
relatively high phosphorus contents. This is due to
the absence of CaO (calcium oxide, i.e., limestone) in
the charge of the bloomery furnace.
Microstructures
In materials engineering, the close correlation between
structure and properties is well known. Structure
indicates arrangement of the material. When one views
the arrangement of electrons, neutrons, and protons, we
call it atomic structure. On a microscopic scale, in the
order of micrometers, the grain structure of engineering
1612 Metallurgy of ancient Indian iron and steel
materials is understood. Finally, the macrostructure
refers to observations made in the range millimeters.
Structure affects the properties of engineering materials.
The microstructures of ancient irons are highly
heterogeneous; the iron normally possesses nonuni-
form grain structures.
In the unetched condition, the specimens generally
reveal slag inclusions irregularly distributed in the
microstructure. The end product of the bloomery
furnace was a lump of direct reduced iron, which
contained phosphorous as the major alloying element.
The end product of the ancient Indian direct process of
extracting iron can be called phosphoric iron. The end
product of modern blast furnaces is pig iron, in which
carbon is the major alloying element. In contrast to
macrosegregation of P in pig iron, microsegregation of
P is realized in ancient phosphoric irons. Fig. 7 shows
an optical metallograph obtained after polishing an
ancient Indian iron sample to a mirror-like finish and
etching it with Oberhoffer etchant. The particular
etchant reveals the distribution of P in the microstruc-
ture. The dark areas in Fig. 7 are the regions where the
P content is less, while the bright areas are indicative of
higher P contents. Notice that P is depleted from the
grain boundaries and from the regions surrounding the
entrapped slag particles. There are several fascinating
insights that can be obtained from the study of
microstructures but this is beyond the scope of this
article.
The forge-welding method of manufacturing iron
objects continued for a long time. Indians did not
quickly adopt the cast iron technology that was
becoming popular in Europe from the beginning of
the sixteenth century. They continued with their
traditional method of forge welding to manufacture
large objects like cannons. One typical example of a
Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel.
Fig. 7 Microstructure of Gupta period (320–600 AD) iron
revealed using Oberhoffer etchant. The regions depleted in P
appear darker in contrast. The dark structures are entrapped
slag inclusions.
massive cannon manufactured by forge welding is seen
in Fig. 8. This cannon was fabricated in the early part o
the seventeenth century and is located at Thanjavur.
There are several other massive forge-welded cannons
from the medieval period (Balasubramaniam 2007).
Death of Indian Iron
Indian metal crafts flourished until the end of the
Mughal period (1526–1705). After the establishment
of the British Empire, restrictions were imposed by
them in the form of production taxes and bans on
export. It was natural that this industry should die. This
disappearance of the ancient technology during the
eighteenth to nineteenth centuries was aggravated
by the discovery of new scientific principles and
development of new industrial process of metal
production in Europe.
The direct reduction process of iron making declined
after the advent of the processes for making liquid steel
in large-scale in the middle of the nineteenth century.
The iron and steel trade from India declined and the
ancient method of extraction and processing became
extinct by the beginning of the twentieth century.
The British in India made attempts to work on iron
ores on a large-scale by modern methods. Several iron
and steel works were set up in the country. For example,
the Bengal Iron Company was established at Barakar in
1874. It employed 821 people in 1891 and produced
12,000 ton of pig iron (Jaggi 1989). However, these
iron works depended on the availability of charcoal and
this necessarily meant the destruction of forests and
depletion of charcoal supplies. Another factor was also
at play. By the end of the century, indigenous iron ceased
to be produced because of the import of iron.
Another factor in iron’s decline is the fact that certain
essential steps were not shared by the master smiths
with anybody except their favored apprentices. Tradi-
tional artisan communities in India never reveal full
Metallurgy of Ancient Indian Iron and Steel. Fig. 8 The
massive forge-welded iron cannon called Rajagopala located
at Thanjavur.

details to outsiders and when the communities
disappeared, so did the methods. Other factors include
the use of the same age-old furnaces, processes, and
blowers (bhathi) by many tribes. This shows that these
process secrets were well guarded and any change in
the process or equipment was considered a bad omen.
Probably this is one of the reasons for the loss of metal
technology like wootz steel manufacture.
In the twentieth century, the condition had become
so bad that the memory of ancient glory remained only
in the form of stories narrated by old men. After
independence in 1947 India had to borrow the modern
technology from western countries to set up steel
plants. The situation is now changing with India again
rising to the challenge and hoping to be one of the
largest producers of iron and steel in the twenty-first
century.
The wishful thinking of Neogi in 1914 is worth
recollecting.
We hope we have been able to give a trustworthy
account of the process of the manufacture of
Indian steel, which was an object of envy of all
nations but successfully imitated by none and
which supplied the materials of many a true blade
of warriors both in the East and the West. It is sad
to reflect that an ancient indigenous industry
which attracted merchants from Persia, as narrated
by Dr Voysey, barely a hundred years ago, is on the
point of extinction; but as even the darkest cloud is
not without a silver lining, a distinct ray of hope is
visible in the not very distant horizon presaging
that India will yet regain her lost iron industry
under modern scientific conditions together with
other attendant industries depending upon iron.
References
Agrawal, D. P. and J. Kharakwal. Outstanding Problems of
Early Iron Age in India: Need of a New Approach.
Tradition and Innovation in the History of Iron Making:
An Indo European Perspective. Girija Pande, Jan af
Geijerstam. Nainital, India: PAHAR Parikrama, 2002. 3–20.
Balasubramaniam, R. Delhi Iron Pillar – New Insights.
Shimla/New Delhi: Indian Institute of Advanced Studies/
Aryan Books International, 2002.
Balasubramaniam, R. The Saga of Indian Cannons. New
Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2007.
Biswas, A. K. Minerals and Metals in Ancient India. Vols. I
and II. New Delhi: D. K. Printworld, 1996.
Chakrabarti, D. K. The Early Use of Iron in India. Delhi:
Oxford University Press, 1992.
Dube, R. K. Aspects of Powder Technology in Ancient and
Medieval India. Powder Metallurgy 33 (1990): 119–25.
Ghosh, A. L. and P. K. Chattopadhaya. Masca Journal
2 (1982): 63.
Jaggi, O. P. Science and Technology in Medieval India. Delhi:
Atma Ram and Sons, 1989.
Metallurgy in Arabia 1613
Neogi, P. Iron in Ancient India. Calcutta: The Indian
Association for the Cultivation of Science, 1914.
Pleiner, R. The Problem of the Beginning Iron Age in India.
Acta Praehistorica et Archaeologica 2 (1971): 5–76.
Prakash, B. Metallurgy of Iron and Steel Making and
Blacksmithy in Ancient India. Indian Journal of History
of Science 26 (1991): 351–71.
Srinivasan, S. and S. Ranganathan. Wootz Steel – Legendary
Material of the Orient. Bangalore: Indian Institute of
Science, 2004.
Tiwari, R. The Origins of Iron-Working in India: New
Evidence From the Central Ganga Plain and the Eastern
Vindhyas. Antiquity 77 (2003): 536–45.
Tripathi, V. The Age of Iron in South Asia: Legacy and
Tradition. New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2001.
Metallurgy in Arabia
G ERD W EISGERBER
Geology
The Arabian Peninsula as a whole is rich in metallifer-
ous ores and minerals, especially in gold, lead and
silver, and copper. In the North there are the copper
deposits of Feinan and Timna (Hauptmann 2000;
Weisgerber 2006); the Yemen also has many. There are
many ore bodies in the Hedjaz Mountain range in the west M
of Saudi Arabia that are nearly archaeologically unex-
plored. In the early 1980s three visits to ancient mining
and smelting sites were undertaken (Hester et al. 1984).
So far only the copper deposits of Oman and their
exploitation during the last 5,000 years have been
studied (Fig. 1). There is not only the Early Bronze Age
production of the third millennium connected with the
Sumerian copper country of Magan, but also the Iron
Age and the Early Islamic productions represent real
industrial scale production.
Copper ores occur in two occurrences of ophiolite
in the Oman mountains: in the Semail Nappe forma-
tion and on Masirah Island (Peters 2000). Copper
deposits are formed by irregular mineralization at
the transition zone of peridotite to gabbro. Of the
44 locations studied until 1975 more than the half
comprise shear zones with secondary copper minerals
in gabbro and peridotite (Goettler et al. 1976: 47;
Hauptmann et al. 1988). Other copper deposits occur
in ophiolitic pillow lavas. These stratified deposits
sometimes are indicated by gossans, a rusty-red mineral-
ization originating from the weathering of massive
cupriferous sulphides (Coleman et al. 1979, 1981;
Hauptmann 1985). In total the entire mountain chains
of Oman and those in the Masirah Island have more than
150 copper ore deposits (Goettler et al. 1976; Hauptmann
et al. 1988; Peters 2000). They were newly discovered
1614 Metallurgy in Arabia
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 1 Copper deposits (squares) and important Bronze Age (third to second millennium BCE) find
spots (dots) in Oman (scale 100 km).
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 2 ‘Arja. The red gossan on top
of the copper deposit results from the weathering and
oxidizing of mainly chalcopyrite. This ore body recently has
been completely removed by modern opencast mining.
either by copper slags or by the red colour of their
gossan (Fig. 2).
Except for a few big ones, most of the deposits in
Oman are small. Small green showings indicate veins
of the copper ore, e.g. malachite. They were mainly
exploited during the Chalcolithic and the Bronze Age,
between 3000 and 1300 BCE. During the Iron Age and
probably during medieval times, the large deposits
under the gossans were preferred, perhaps mainly in the
enrichment zones.
Therefore most copper production sites show more
than one period of production. But today no site shows
the whole spectrum of ruins – from mine to cemetery.
The Chalcolithic
There are some rare metal finds in the shell middens
of the Neolithic found of Oman. But in the following
Hafit period more metal occurs in the tombs. During
this time copper production started. The oldest slags
come from Batin in the Wadi Nam near Ibra (Fig. 3).
They indicate local metal production (Yule and
Weisgerber 1996). In the new burial cairns all over
the country metal finds are standard but beside the new
metal finds flint tools still occur. In a not plundered
tomb under the Umm un Nar fortress at Maysar-25

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 3 Batin in Wadi Nam near Ibra
has the oldest slag. As is typical for the third millennium, the
slag had to be crushed to expose and collect the copper drops
and prills (scale 10 cm).
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 4 Maysar-25, grave 1. Beside a
typical Hafit vessel the grave contained two caramel coloured
flint flakes, two copper needles, and beads.
(Weisgerber 1981: 198) there was an untouched burial
with two metal needles (Fig. 4).
The Early Bronze Age
Sumer in Mesopotamia from 2500 to 1800 BCE
received a large portion of its copper from a country
called Magan. Business transactions were written on
cuneiform clay tablets. Ships from Dilmun/Bahrain,
Magan/Oman, and Meluhha/India at the time of king
Sargon (about 2400 BCE) docked at Akkad were
unloaded, reloaded, and prepared to start for the next
several months’ journey. For their exports the mer-
chants intended to exchange, in addition to copper,
Afghani lapis lazuli, gold, cornelian, and exotic kinds
of wood from India (Heimpel 1987). From Magan
came copper and black diorite. Usually the ships would
make a stopover in the trade emporium at Dilmun/
Bahrain, a well-known source of fresh water, which
probably had full control over the seafaring in the Gulf
(Bibby 1970; Cleuziou 2003; Potts et al. 1986, 1992,
2003; Weisgerber 1983, 1986).
Metallurgy in Arabia 1615
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 5 Nujum near Bidbid. These
Bronze Age stone tools were lying around a trench mine.
M
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 6 Wadi Miadin. A most
impressive several hundred metres long trench mine in
the Wadi Ma’aidin is a good example of shallow mining
in the Bronze Age.
From Dilmun ships connected Magan for the first
time probably at the small Island of Umm an-Nar off
the coast of today’s Abu Dhabi. Here the inhabitants of
a small village had become extremely rich by transit
trade, at least if one regards their large tombs with
collective burials. They probably controlled the export
of Magan’s copper. But the ships may have had stop-
overs also at other islands in the south (Carter 2003).
Bands of porters and caravans of donkeys brought the
copper from the Oman mountain range to the island.
During the Early Bronze Age oxidic and carbonate
ores were exploited. The Magan miners used stone
hammers but had also metal chisels to break the rock.
Good examples for mines of this time are the trench
mines at Wadi Miadin and Nujum near Bidbid (Figs. 5
and 6). In addition to the local metal it seems that foreign
copper was also in use (Prange 2001; Weeks 2003a).
1616 Metallurgy in Arabia

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 7 Maysar-1. Furnace fragments Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 8 Maysar-1. The mass of
with fragmentary holes indicate the use of bellows to increase furnace fragments (left) in comparison with the few pottery
the heat for smelting. sherds, both are the content of the same excavation square.

The ores had to be reduced by charcoal with heat

above 1,100°C. Smelting happened in small free-
standing pear-shaped and knee-high furnaces built of
clay. In the walls these furnaces had holes for artificial
ventilation probably by bellows. The copper ores
became reduced in the heat by the charcoal to metal
(Figs. 7–9). All remains such as fist-sized crushing
stones, slag, ash- and fireplaces, holes beside them,
fragments of furnaces and of crucibles, metal scrap, and
an ingot hoard were excavated in the 4,000-year-old al
Maysar-1 in the Wadi Samad south of the oasis village
al-Maysar (Weisgerber 1981; Hauptmann 1985). The
copper finds were made of local metal but not the
ingots (Prange 2001). Inside of one house stood a large
anvil stone surrounded by several fireplaces (Fig. 10).
Finally the fluid metal had to be poured in a flat hole in
the ground, and after cooling the ingots got their typical
planoconvex shape (Fig. 11).
The site of Maysar-1 produced more than copper.
There were also a pottery kiln, manufactories for soft
stone vessels (steatite, chlorite), and evidence of
agriculture. The oasis garden of Maysar-1 is the oldest
preserved oasis in all Arabia. The dams to improve
irrigation must also be mentioned (Hastings et al. 1975;
Weisgerber and Yule 2003).
Building towers, organizing mining, smelting, and
trading of copper depend on competent leaders and led
finally to an elite which used seals (Fig. 12). Tower Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 9 Based on many fragments a
tombs are the monuments they built to house themselves pear-shaped smelting furnace could be reconstructed for the
third millennium BCE. But in contrast to this artist’s view the
after death.
bellows most probably were simple skin bellows.
In trade with Mesopotamia and the Indian subconti-
nent copper from Oman played a key role. But, Magan
also became dependent on these contacts. When it lost the
market both because of a competitor with higher The Middle and Late Bronze Age
technology resulting in a much cheaper copper produc- Traces of second millennium smelting are rare. But
tion at Alashia/Cyprus and when the Indian partner they show that the same types of ore and smelting
ceased to arrive because of their own internal political, furnaces were used as before. The best information
social and cultural decline, then the end of the Magan comes indirectly from the rich metal finds. Villages are
civilization arrived. nearly unknown (Cleuziou 1981; Velde 2003). But

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 10 Maysar-1, House 6.
Fireplaces and an anvil stone indicate a workshop.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 11 Maysar-1, House 4, Locus
31. Between two fireplaces in a small depression a hoard of
6 kg of copper ingots was found in 1981. Only one ingot was
complete.
Wadi Suq tombs among Late Iron Age cemeteries
indicate some kind of occupation of the same oasis
areas also during that period.
The rich community grave of Al Wasit (Wadi Jizzi)
had 50 soft stone vessels and 16 swords and daggers
and 42 spearheads. They probably are of local pro-
duction as proved by the many tons of slag between the
houses of today’s village. But as most of the weapons
are of pure Omani copper it is obvious that in those
days tin for bronze was hardly available even for elites
(Fig. 13) (al-Shanfari and Weisgerber 1989: pl. 5;
Weisgerber 1991; Prange 2001).
Some hundred years later the evidence had changed.
In a thirteenth century warrior tomb at Nizwa the types
of weapons correspond to those of that time elsewhere
in the Near East, but now they are of bronze (al-
Shanfari and Weisgerber 1989). Tin had become
Metallurgy in Arabia 1617
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 12 Impressions of a three-sided
4,000-years-old prism seal from the debris of house 4 of
Maysar-1. The impressions show sheep, goat, dog, ibex, and
scorpion, but most interesting is the humped bull in the
middle (Indian zebu).
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 13 Al Wasit in the Wadi Jizzi.
This collection of swords and daggers of copper were found
in an extremely rich community tomb.
available again as demonstrated by some hundred
bronze bangles of the Ibri/Selme hoard (Yule and
Weisgerber 2001).
The Iron Age
Beginning during the twelfth century BCE, large
copper production restarts most probably with new
kinds of ores possibly from the enrichment zone of the
massive ore bodies (Weisgerber 1988; Prange 2001;
Weeks 2003b). The Cyprus multiple step chalcopyrite
smelting technique which made Cyprus what amounted
1618 Metallurgy in Arabia
to a ‘global copper player’ in those days arrived in
Oman (as it did also in the Alps). Cyprus lost its
predominance and in Oman copper production continued
or restarted on a large-scale. There is no large medieval
smelting site without a predecessor of that period because
both partly used the same ore bodies. The smelters are
situated near the ore body but never as close as the later
medieval ones. The smelting debris results in large tapped
slag cakes of up to 10 kg. Only furnace fragments were
found in Wadi Qatof (Fig. 14). We know no details about
the Iron Age smelting processes.
The largest and highest slag heap of that period is at
Raki 2 near Yankul (Fig. 15). The site is located near
the gossans of two large copper deposits, but they
mainly used another ore location at Loch Bab. The
large settlement site Raki 2 specialized in the production
of copper from around 1200 until 800 BCE (Table 1).
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 14 Wadi Qatof. On the rather
low Iron Age slag heaps well-fired fragments of furnaces
could be collected.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 15 Raki 2 near Yankul. Here a
more than 4-m high slag heap represents the highest Iron Age
dump of smelting waste.
Slag cakes were used like stone slabs for construct-
ing house walls. These often were built on top of
slag piles (Yule and Weisgerber 1996; Weisgerber and
Yule 1999) (Fig. 16). At Semdah or Lasail the Iron Age
slag heaps cover areas near the entrance to the sites. At
Wadi Miadin a fortification building of that period
controls the mining and smelting activities as does the
fort of Qarn al Muallaq at ‘Arja. Fortresses all over
Oman controlled the new villages which had been
created after the installation of a new subterranean
system of water supply – the qanat or falaj system. The
typical stone built hut tombs often survived near
smelting sites, e.g. the largest cemeteries known with
more than 100 hut tombs lay at the copper sites near
Gebel Saleli and Bilad al Maaidin, but they also occur
at Mullaq. The tombs give a strong indication for a
long lasting Iron Age copper production, although
scanty habitation remains.
After the first half of the first millennium BCE
copper production in Oman seems to have been
interrupted for a while. For the Samad period only
weak hints exist. But at ˓Arja there are indications of
possible Sasanian occupation.
The Early Islamic Period
On first view nearly all smelting sites checked in Oman
date to the Early Islamic period, because this was the
latest metallurgically active period, and the ruins are
therefore rather undisturbed (Weisgerber 1993). This
provides a great opportunity because in other parts of
the world, like Central Europe and in the Mediterranean,
hardly anything is known about mining and smelting
techniques of that period.
When the new mines at Lasail and ‘Arja in the Wadi
Jizzi were reopened at the beginning of the 1980s
insights into the old mines became possible (Fig. 17).
At a depth of 65 m a gallery supported by wooden
props was detected. Fragments of windlasses in that
depth showed that the medieval mines were entered and
ores were hauled up through vertical shafts; this was
also true at ‘Arja.
Excavations in ‘Arja and Bayda yielded an interesting
infrastructure (Costa and Wilkinson 1987) – a relatively
well-preserved battery of three roasting pits to burn
the sulphur out of the ores and two smelting furnaces.
The roasting pits consist of three or more chambers
which apparently were used in turn (Weisgerber 1987)
(Figs. 18 and 19). Parallels can be found in the book
by Georgius Agricola from 1556 (Agricola 1950). The
backs of furnaces stood up to 1.40 m in height and had
an interior diameter of 0.60 m. They were operated
probably with natural wind draught by means of clay
nozzles (tuyères). At their front metal and slag were
tapped into pits (Figs. 20 and 21). In front of many
furnaces, which show traces of several repairs or
 Metallurgy in Arabia 1619

Metallurgy in Arabia. Table 1 Generalized chronology

Chalcolithic (Hafit Period) 3200–2500 BCE

Early Bronze Age (Umm an-Nar Period) 2500–1800 BCE
Middle Bronze Age (Wadi Suq Period) 1800–1300 BCE
Late Bronze Age/Early (Nizwa Period) 1300–1200 BCE
Iron Age
Iron Age (Lizq/Rumeilah Period) 1200–300 BCE
Late Iron Age (Samad Period) 300 BCE–AD 600
Early Islamic Period AD 600–1100
Middle Islamic Period AD 1100–1500
Late Islamic Period Since AD 1500

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 18 ˓Arja-Bayda. Battery of

roasting installations. Three chambers are cut in the rock and
framed by local stones.
M

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 16 Raki 2, near Yankul. Ruins

of a house on top of a stratified heap of crushed slag.

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 17 ˓ Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 19 Artist’s view of a

the small gossan of Bayda became exploited by a large
opencast mine. In the walls several medieval galleries can
be seen.
reconstructions, up to 6,000 tons of slag may occur (Fig.
22), giving an idea of the thousands of tons of copper
produced in medieval Oman (Weisgerber 1978a, 1980a,
b, 1981; Hauptmann 1985).
three-chambered early medieval roasting installation.
One may imagine that the long mining and smelting
activities of the Early Islamic period over centuries
led to a complete devastation of Oman’s vegetation
because millions and millions of trees were needed
both in underground mining and in the roasting and
smelting work on the ground (Eckstein et al. 1987).
1620 Metallurgy in Arabia
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 20 ‘Arja. Early medieval
smelting furnace ‘Arja 103 after excavation. Note the closed
forefront above the opening which probably had to be
opened and re-closed for each smelting process and the
ramp to the right for going to the top of the furnace to fill
in charcoal and ores.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 21 Scheme of an early
medieval smelting furnace.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 22 Tawi Raki. More than
60,000 tons of smelting remains at many production units
prove that here an extremely successful mining venture had
taken place. The slag heaps are clearly separated from each
other. Individual smelting firms have their own smelting
furnace and roaster. Between them a lot of houses can be seen.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 23 ‘Arja. In the plain around
Tawi ‘Arja flat fields of bowl slag indicate the late and
post-medieval production of copper.
Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 24 ‘Arja. At Tawi ˓Arja some
complete slag cakes helped to reconstruct the bowl furnace.
To remove the copper ingot the lower edge of the slag had to
be smashed away.
The Middle and Late Islamic Period
In the area around the old well of ˓Arja fields of slag
cover the plain. There are no heaps or dumps but flat
covers (Fig. 23). The complete slag pieces have a
diameter of about 25–30 cm. The bottom is concave,
the sides curved. This slag of 13–16 kg was produced
in a bowl furnace dug into the ground (Figs. 24 and 25).
Copper smelting in bowl furnaces took place from the
Middle Islamic times to the nineteenth century
(Weisgerber 1978b).
There is no mining activity which could be attributed
to these periods. But all the Early Islamic slag heaps are
marked by more or less circular depressions irregularly
scattered in the dumps. Slag analyses confirm that they
are high in copper (1–4%; Goettler et al. 1976: 47).
Remains of copper and copper–matte in the Early
Islamic slags were the target of this secondary digging
work. And these were reduced in the bowl furnaces.

Metallurgy in Arabia. Fig. 25 Scheme of a late medieval
bowl furnace. The upper part is still unclear. The 4–5 cm
wide holes for the air of skin bellows were found in
specially formed wall fragments. Charcoal occurs in most
bowl slag cakes. Only the copper ingot below has been
reconstructed.
Recent Copper Production in the Sultanate
of Oman
From 1983 to 2003 Oman is once again exporting
copper to the world market. Modern mines have been
opened at Lasail, ‘Arja, and ‘Arja–Bayda in the Wadi
Jizzi west of the old town of Sohar; a copper smelter
has been constructed nearby. The mining and smelting
work is connected with a new modern town, named
‘Magan’. And it is this name which gives a hint to the
5,000-years long history of copper production in the
Sultanate of Oman (Mobbs 2003).
See also: ▶Irrigation
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Metallurgy in China
H UA J UEMING
The earliest metal relics ever found in China are two
brass artifacts from the Yangshao Culture Ruins in
Jiangzai Village, Lingtong County, Shaanxi Province.
They date as far back as 6,000 years ago, providing
strong evidence that metallurgy germinated in China
during that period. Considering that studies of possibly
earlier metal relics are not done thoroughly enough, the
problem of the origin of metallurgy in China has yet to
be further explored.
By the latter part of the third millennium BCE,
metallurgy had come into being in a number of regions,
and many kinds of metal materials – red copper,
primitive brass, tin bronze, and lead–tin bronze – were
already used for small implements and ornaments.
The Xia Dynasty (twenty-first century to sixteenth
century BCE) had evolved into the Bronze Age. In
Erlitou Cultural Ruins, Yanshi County, Henan Provi-
dence, remains of foundry workshops have been
discovered where bronze sacrificial vessels, weapons,
implements, and casting moulds have been excavated.
Apparently, the making of articles was done with casting
as the main means.
The earliest copper mining and smelting ruins known
in China are located in Tongling (meaning copper ridge),
Ruichang County, Jiangxi Providence. Its mining can be
traced back to the fourteenth century BCE. The shafts
and drifts were supported by timber frames. Also
excavated were ore-dressing troughs and wood winches
for hoisting. Further study reveals that during Shang-
Zhou Periods (Shang Dynasty: sixteenth century to
eleventh century BCE; Western Zhou: eleventh century
to 771 BCE; Eastern Zhou: 771–221 BCE) the mining
of copper minerals had progressed to a rather large scale
in the Liao River Valley and Yellow River Valley,
especially in the middle and lower reaches of the
Yangtze River. The smelting of copper was done in
semicontinuous operation in shaft furnaces. By the late
Western Zhou at the latest, copper sulfide minerals had
been used to smelt copper.
The smelting technologies of lead and tin were
mastered from the Shang Dynasty on. The lead vessels
unearthed in Anyang have a purity of over 95%. Tin ore
deposits were scattered in the Northeast, Northwest, and
South China regions, especially in Jiangxi, Guangxi,
and Yunnan, where tin reserves were very abundant. The
early tin material must have come from these regions.
Alloying techniques improved greatly during the
Shang Dynasty. The sacrificial vessels of imperial courts
unearthed in Yin Ruins have a tin content of 18%
or more. The book Kao Gong Ji of the Warring

States (475–221 BCE) recorded something about the
alloy proportioning of liu qi (seven kinds of bronzes):
zhong (bell), ding (cauldron), fu (hatchet), ji (halberd),
jian (sword), zu (arrowhead), and jing (mirror). This
indicates the craftsmen’s clear understanding at that
time that the mechanical performance of tin bronze
varies with different contents of tin.
Shang-Zhou bronze culture was characterized by
sacrificial vessels, complex in shape and delicate in
design, which were mass-produced by casting. The
key in achieving this characteristic without applying
techniques such as the lost-wax process lays in the
skillful use of composite pottery molds and various
cast-joint technologies.
Beginning with the Spring and Autumn periods
(771–475 BCE), it became in vogue to apply syntheti-
cally various shaping processes and decorating techni-
ques: cast-joint, soldering, lost-wax process, forging,
gilding, gold-plating, red-copper inlay, gold and silver
inlay, engraving, etc. This significant change brought
the manufacture of bronzes to a still higher level; the
implements produced looked brighter and more color-
ful. As early as the late Neolithic Age, small-sized gold
had already appeared. By the Warring States periods,
there were more and more articles made from gold, and
coins were first minted of silver. These may have been
obtained by cupellation, a refining process in which
metals are oxidized at high temperatures, and base
metals are separated by absorption into the walls of a
cupal, or porous cup made of bone ash. The production
of mercury also reached a certain scale. It is recorded that
a great amount of mercury used to preserve bodies from
decay was found in the imperial grave of Emperor Qin.
It was far back in late Shang Dynasty that iron
meteorites were used to be forged into blades and cast
with bronze into weapons. This process was passed
down all along to the end of Western Zhou, perhaps
providing impetus to the origin of certain iron smelting
technologies.
Archaeological excavations have shown that artifi-
cial ironmaking may have begun in the late Western
Zhou in China. It is worth noting that the smelting and
casting of pig iron began only about 200 years later,
i.e., the late Spring and Autumn periods. Only another
100 years had passed before pig iron was in wide use
for casting production tools, especially for farming
implements, thus marking the beginning of the Iron
Ages in China.
Correspondingly, a series of outstanding inventions
related to pig iron came springing up one after another.
Two of the most important were the iron mold casting
and cast iron toughening techniques. In these, pig
iron castings were changed into white-heart malleable
cast iron or black-heart malleable iron through dec-
arbonizing heat treatment or graphitizing heat treat-
ment, respectively. Others were the later ones of
Metallurgy in China 1623
puddling iron (Western Han 206 BCE–AD 8) and
Guan-steel (made by smelting pig iron and puddling
iron together, about the end of Eastern Han AD
25–220). These revealed a technological course of
development, which, though markedly different from
that in ancient Europe, led to the same goal. This
unique instance in the history of technology is
interesting and thought provoking.
In China, many of the most important inventions
in ancient metallurgy were made before the sixth
century BCE. After the fruits in the preceding times
were digested and imbibed in the Tang Dynasty (AD
618–907) and Song Dynasty (AD 960–1279), metal-
lurgical technologies in China took shape, leading to
further prosperity and greater achievements. For
example, in the southern regions there was full scale
mining and smelting of iron minerals and others such as
copper, tin, lead, gold, silver, and mercury. There were
also large and extra-large castings and bronze or iron
structures, etc.
It must be mentioned that the making of white
copper (copper nickel alloy) was already mastered as
early as the fifth century, and that during the Han and
Tang Dynasties and later, metallurgy in China had
exchanges with and mutual impact on the surrounding
regions. Some examples are the westward spreading of
iron-casting skills and the influences of Persian artistry
on gold or silver wares in the Tang Dynasty.
In the Song Dynasty, wet metallurgy was put into
M
large-scale practice to extract pure copper, annually
yielding about 500 tons, which amounted to about one-
third of the total copper produced in the whole country.
About 1620 in the Ming Dynasty, it was possible to
smelt zinc, which was used in great amounts for minting
coins. Antimony was smelted in the Ming Dynasty (AD
1368–1644), but it was not recognized at the time as a
new kind of metal and thus was mistaken for tin.
Recently, some unexpected archaeological discov-
eries – such as the bronze culture of the ancient
Kingdom Shu and the bronze groups of the late Shang
in Xinggan, Jiangxi Province – indicate that there are
still many mysteries in the metallurgy of ancient China
which remain to be disclosed. Those disclosures would
contribute greatly to academic studies.
References
Barbard, N. and Sato Tamotsu. Metallurgical Remains of
Ancient China. Tokyo: Nippon International Press, 1975.
Fan, Dainian, et al. Chinese Studies in the History and
Philosophy of Science and Technology. Ed. Fan Dainian
and Robert S. Cohen. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic,
1996.
Han, Jishao. An Inquiry into Two Substances in Dao Zang
(Taoist Patrology) Used for Polishing Bronze Mirrors.
Ziran Kexueshi Yanjiu (Studies in the History of Natural
Sciences) 24 (2005): 119–27.
1624 Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia
Hua, Jueming. Metallurgical Technologies in Ancient China.
The History of the Development in World Metallurgy.
Part 2. Ed. Hua Jueming, et al. Beijing: Science and
Technology Literature Press, 1986a.
---. An Anthology of Theses on the History of Smelting and
Foundry in China. Beijing: Wenwu Press, 1986b.
Jiang, Tingyu. The Bronze Smelting and Founding Profes-
sion in Lingnan during the Pre-Qin and Han Dynasties.
Guangxi Minzu Xueyuan Xuebao 10.2 (2004): 34–8.
Li, Cong. Discussions on the Development of Iron & Steel
Smelting Techniques During Pre-Feudal Society of China.
Kaogu Xuebao 2 (1975): 12–24.
Liu, En-yuan. Research on the Technology for Smelting and
Founding Bronze in Ancient China. Zhongguo Keji Shiliao
(China Historical Materials of Science and Technology) 23
(2002): 294–307.
Liu, Yanxiang, Yanping Zhu, and Haixin Jia. Bronze
Archaeometallurgy in the Liaoxi Region. Guangxi Minzu
Xueyuan Xuebao 10.2 (2004): 11–20.
Qian, Wei. Examination and Analysis of the Prehistoric
Copper and Bronze of Hami in Xinjiang and its
Neighboring Regions. Guangxi Minzu Xueyuan Xuebao
10.2 (2004): 21–7.
Tylecote, R. F. A History of Metallurgy. London: The Metals
Society, 1976. Chinese Edition: Trans. Zhou Zengxiong
and Hua Jueming. Beijing: Science and Technology
Literature Press, 1985.
Wagner, Donald B. Blast Furnaces in Song-Yuan China.
East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine 18 (2001):
41–74.
Zhou, Weijian, Lu Benshan, and Hua Jueming. The Dating of
Ancient Smelting Ruins in Copper Ridge, Ruichang City
and Its Scientific Values. Jiangxi Wenwu 3 (1991): 1–12.
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy
in Mesopotamia
J EAN -F RANÇOIS de L APÉROUSE
The development of metallurgy in ancient Mesopota-
mia and the surrounding regions of the Ancient Near
East to the end of the Neo-Babylonian period (ca. 539
BCE) represented a largely unprecedented achievement
that strongly influenced the evolution of technology in
much of the ancient Old World. Although the alluvial
plain of the Tigris and the Euphrates was lacking in the
mineral resources and fuel required to extract metals,
the rise of urban centers and long-distance trade networks
allowed this region to benefit from raw materials and
expertise gathered over a wide area from the Aegean Sea
to the Indus River valley. This technology required an
investment in labor and materials that reached beyond the
constraints of earlier industries and enabled advance-
ments in many fields including agriculture, transporta-
tion, armament production and the visual arts. Although
much has been learned from archaeological exploration,
the study of ancient texts and the application of scientific
analysis to the study of ancient materials, many aspects
remain to be elucidated in a field for which the
following can serve only as an introduction.
The Nature of Metals
Cuneiform texts do not reveal any evidence that
Mesopotamian craftsmen sought to develop a theoreti-
cal understanding of the nature of metals and their
alloys. Nevertheless, the artifacts they produced bear
witness to a considerable practical knowledge accu-
mulated from centuries of experience manipulating the
raw materials at their disposal. A brief consideration of
metallic microstructure provides some insight into the
medium with which they were working. The atoms of
each metal species are arranged in one of fourteen
possible crystal lattice configurations that can be visua-
lized as closely packed spheres arrayed within larger
crystals known as grains. Metals of the face-centered
cubic configuration which include gold, silver, copper,
and lead – all of which were used in the ancient world –
are malleable at least in part because their compact
geometry limits the friction encountered in slippage
between atomic planes when stress, such as hammer-
ing, is applied. When the planes begin to interlock
with continued working, heating the metal in a process
known as annealing enables the atoms to reorder
themselves thus restoring plasticity.
Impurities introduced naturally or by intentional
alloying affect both grain size and composition and
may result in the precipitation of immiscible inclusions
at the grain boundaries. These discontinuities within
the crystalline structure can increase an alloy’s
hardness and brittleness which are useful for certain
utilitarian purposes but may render the metal unfit
for forming by hammering. At the same time, alloying
lowers the melting point of the more refractory
constituent – a useful quality when casting and pro-
ducing solders with melting points lower than those of
the surfaces being joined.
When buried in the seasonally damp and salted soils
of the Ancient Near East, metals, with the exception of
gold, will begin to return to an oxidized state similar to
the ore minerals from which they were extracted. As a
result, the structure and appearance of many of the
metal artifacts recovered from this region have been
altered in some way since their original manufacture.
Over time, corrosion as well as the precipitation of
alloy components can cause embrittlement. Corrosion
usually proceeds inward along the grain boundaries
producing metallic salts that deposit on the surface and
often cause internal fractures due to the expanded
volume of oxidation products relative to that of
the original metal. Nevertheless, careful cleaning and
x-radiography can reveal surface details preserved

within corrosion layers and a considerable amount of
evidence about an object’s manufacture, and subsequent
history can be gleaned by analyzing cross sections
prepared from small samples taken from artifacts.
Copper and its Alloys
While valid in broad terms, the tripartite division of
human civilization into the Stone (ca. 7000–3000 BCE),
Bronze (3000–1200 BCE), and Iron Ages (1200 BCE–
present) proposed in the early nineteenth century CE has
been extensively refined. It is now known that lithic,
metal and even ceramic-based tools and technologies
coexisted in the Ancient Near East both earlier and later
than it would indicate. The earliest extant metal objects
are beads and small tools such as pins, hooks and awls
made of relatively soft native copper – i.e., geological
deposits of metallic copper discovered near the earth’s
surface – that have been recovered from eighth millen-
nium BCE contexts at sites in Anatolia, Iran and
northern Mesopotamia. While knowledge of smelting
during the following millennium is implied by the
presence of a lead bracelet in level 1 of Yarim Tepe in
Iran, it is not until the first half of the fourth millennium
BCE that clear evidence from Levantine sites – such as
the impressive hoard of 416 copper alloy objects
discovered at Nahal Mishmar (Fig. 1) – indicates that
the extraction of metal from ores was occurring on a
significant scale.
Experimentation in the annealing and melting of
native copper alloys as well as the accidental reduction
of copper oxide pigments during the firing of decorated
pottery may have prompted initial experimentation into
the smelting of metal from copper ores. Early smelting
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia. Fig. 1
Objects from the hoard found at Nahal Mishmar. Copper
alloy. Levant, first half of the fourth millennium BCE (Israel
Museum, Jerusalem). Roaf 1990 (Photo: David Harris).
Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia 1625
furnaces, such as the late fourth millennium BCE
example excavated at Timna in the southern Negev,
consisted of a bowl or pit cut into the ground that was
packed with dressed ore and charcoal – the latter
providing both heat and carbon which combined with
and removed oxygen. High temperatures were attained
by drafts of forced air supplied by bellows inserted into
the fire whose tips were protected from burning by
refractory ceramic cones known as tuyères. At around
1,083°C – the melting point of pure copper – molten
metal would puddle at the bottom of the furnace while
the lighter, silicaceous impurities of the ore, known as
the gangue, would separate out with the aid of a flux
forming a layer of slag. Since both slag and tuyères
were discarded in situ, they provide evidence of me-
tallurgical activity at particular sites even in the absence
of metal artifacts which were often hoarded and
recycled.
Much of the initial smelting took place in the
mountainous regions surrounding Mesopotamia that
possessed mineral resources as well as extensive forests
for producing charcoal. After an initial extraction,
further refining could be achieved by repeated smelting
in crucible furnaces at or near the workshops where
artifacts were produced. Copper mines in the highlands
of Iran, accessible by overland routes, appear to have
been an early source of metal for the urban centers that
arose in southern Mesopotamia – the heartland of
ancient Sumer – during the period which is named after
M
the important city of Uruk (ca. 3800–3200 BCE). With
the expansion of seaborne trade fostered by the city-
states of the Early Dynastic period (ca. 3000–2350
BCE), ore sources in Oman, which has been identified
with the Magan of ancient texts, as well as the eastern
lands of Aratta and Meluhha, both of which most likely
received partially refined copper from various sources
in Iran and Central Asia, increased in importance. The
island of Dilmun – modern Bahrain – was well situated
near the southern end of the Persian Gulf to serve as a
mediator in this maritime copper trade particularly in
the late third and early second millennia BCE. To the
west, the copper mines in Anatolia supplied copper to
production centers in the Levant and northern Meso-
potamia from an early period and provided the raw
materials for an indigenous tradition of sophisticated
copper metallurgy exemplified by the late third
millennium BCE objects found at the central plateau
sites of Alaca Höyük and Horoztepe (Fig. 2). With the
rise of important trading cities on the Levantine coast in
the mid-second millennium BCE, the importation of
Cypriote copper to the region also increased.
While bronze, an alloy of copper and tin, is attested
in texts and objects dated to the beginning of the Early
Dynastic period, modern analysis has indicated that for
many centuries the copper used in Mesopotamia
actually contained low concentrations of arsenic, nickel
1626 Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia. Fig. 2
Bull Standard. Copper alloy and electrum. Height: 48 cm.
Alaca Höyük, Anatolia. Late third millennium BCE (Ankara
Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, Turkey, 11850) Aruz
2003 (Photo: Bruce White).
and other elements (often referred to as arsenical copper)
and that the use of tin only gradually increased toward a
standard concentration of around 10% as that of arsenic
decreased. Arsenical copper has often been viewed as
bronze’s inferior precursor – a soft alloy that was unfit
for most practical purposes. However, ancient metal-
workers appear to have been aware that this alloy could
be effectively work hardened by hammering and cast
more easily than pure copper, making it a useful alloy.
It has been suggested that the progression from
native copper to bronze alloys reflected the nature
of the ore deposits being exploited (Tylecote: 7–9).
In many copper ore bodies, the layer closest to the
surface and most easily exploitable consists of copper
carbonates and oxides as well as native copper. Below
lie two copper sulfide deposits which must be oxidized
by “roasting” in an open fire before smelting. Of these,
the uppermost layer, which is enriched by copper
washing down with ground water from above, contains
the highest concentration of impurities including
arsenic, nickel and antimony. As these arsenic-contain-
ing deposits gradually became depleted by ancient
miners, it is possible that the need for a new alloying
metal promoted the use of tin. However, recent
archaeological work indicates that the actual situation
may have been less straightforward, as complex ores
containing different mixes of impurities were cos-
melted from an early period. In addition, the possibility
that arsenic in some form was intentionally added
remains a matter of debate.
Tin is not usually found as a natural impurity in
copper ores and tin deposits are relatively rare. While
evidence of tin mining in eastern Anatolia indicates that
this area may have been a source of this metal at least in
the Early Bronze Age, the primary source of this metal
appears to have been the Badakhshan region of
Afghanistan where oxidized tin is associated with
alluvial deposits of weathered granite. Afghanistan is
also thought to have been a primary source of the lapis
lazuli, gold and semiprecious stones that played an
important role in Sumerian art of the mid-third
millennium BCE. This is seen most impressively in
the finds from the Royal Tombs of Ur (Figs. 15 and 16),
when bronze alloys increasingly were used. Like these
prized materials, tin may have been traded initially as a
precious commodity used in the production of highly
valued objects. Early in the succeeding millennium,
however, cuneiform texts indicate that large quantities
of tin – presumably obtained in the East – were being
transported up the Euphrates to the ancient city Mari
from where they were distributed to other urban centers.
During approximately the same period, merchants from
Ashur, the historic and spiritual capital of the land of
Assyria in northern Mesopotamia, established a mer-
chant community (karum) at Kanesh in central Anatolia
where tin and textiles were exchanged for locally
obtained precious metals.
Gold and Silver
While gold and silver objects have been recovered from
early contexts in northern Mesopotamia and Anatolia,
it is not until the third millennium BCE that significant
numbers of precious metal objects were being pro-
duced across the entire region. Gold, found in many of
the lands encircling Mesopotamia, was retrieved from
alluvial deposits in nugget form or gleaned from quartz
veins by grinding and separation in water. Native gold
usually contains some silver and copper or these
metals could be intentionally added to achieve desired
working properties and/or color. Natural or artificially
produced gold alloys with high silver contents, such as
the inlays in a copper alloy standard from Alaca Höyük
(Fig. 2), as well as the jewelry and ingots found by
Schliemann in Early Bronze Age levels at Troy, are
known as electrum. Alternately, gold could be refined
by the preferential oxidation and removal of the baser
elements from the parent metal. This process, known as
cementation, is alluded to in textual evidence dated to
the first half of the second millennium BCE and may
have been practiced even earlier. A recent study of
a dagger from Ur suggests that a similar process of
surface enrichment known as depletion gilding, which
was independently developed in the pre-Columbian

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 3 Spouted cup. Gold. Height: 12.4 cm. Ur, Southern
Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA period, ca. 2550–2400
BCE (The Trustees of the British Museum, London, BM
121346). Aruz 2003 (Photo: The Trustees of the British
Museum).
New World, was practiced by Sumerian metalworkers in
the mid-third millennium BCE (La Niece 1999).
Although some smelting of silver ores may have
occurred, most ancient silver appears to have been
obtained by cupellation from argentiferous lead ores
mined in mountains of Turkey and Iran – two regions
that displayed an early expertise in silversmithing.
In this process, the ore was heated in porous bone cups,
or cupels, that absorbed oxidized lead, leaving behind
silver droplets that were collected and melted together.
The earliest archaeological evidence of this technology
in the region has been found at the site of the Late Uruk
city of Habuba Kabira which was located on the
Euphrates River in what is now the country of Syria.
Metalworking Techniques
Forming objects by hammering and annealing, first
attested in the earliest copper artifacts, remained an
important manufacturing technique throughout the
history of the Ancient Near East. Worked sheet was
used to make simple tools, vessels (Figs. 3–5) and relief
decoration (Fig. 6). Vessels were formed by sinking or
raising which involved hammering in concentric circles
on the inside or outside surface, respectively, of the
container being formed sometimes with the aid of a
form. Decorative reliefs and friezes were formed by
repoussé in which figures were raised against a flat
background plane by light hammering from the reverse.
After forming, fine linear details were added by lightly
tapping metal tracers with various shaped heads on
the surface which displaced the metal forming lines
and decorative patterns as seen in the figural decoration
on a silver vase dedicated by Enmetena, a ruler of the
Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia 1627
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 4 Bowl. Gold. Length: 13.12 cm. Ur, Southern
Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA period, ca. 2550–2400
BCE (University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology
and Anthropology, Philadelphia, B17693). Zettler 1998
(Photo: The University of Pennsylvania Museum of
Archeology and Anthropology).
M
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 5 Tumblers. Silver. Heights: 16.5–17.4 cm. Ur,
southern Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA period, ca.
2550–2400 (University of Pennsylvania Museum of
Archeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, B17072a–d).
Zettler 1998 (Photo: The University of Pennsylvania
Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology).
city-state of Lagash, to the god Ningirsu around 2400
BCE (Fig. 7). A masterful example of all these combined
techniques is also provided by in a cylindrical silver
container attributed to western Central Asia of the late
third–early second millennium whose surfaces virtually
erupt with lions, bulls and wolves in extraordinarily high
relief (Fig. 8).
Worked metal sections were joined to produce some
of the earliest known metal sculptures in the round. The
ability of ancient silversmiths to produce sensitively
modeled, naturalistic figures on a small scale through
the careful combination of separately formed compo-
nents is demonstrated by an anthropomorphic kneeling
bull attributed stylistically to the Proto-Elamite culture
1628 Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.

Fig. 6 Details of two door decorations from the Balawat
Gate. Copper alloy. Height: each 27 cm. Balawat, northern
Mesopotamia. Neo-Assyrian period, ninth century BCE (The
Trustees of the British Museum, London BM 124662 and
124661) Curtis 1988 (Photo: The Trustees of the British
Museum).

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.

Fig. 8 Cylindrical box and lid with lions, bulls and wolves in
relief. Silver. Height: 23.1 cm. Western Central Asia, late
third–early second millennium BCE (The Metropolitan
Museum of Art, New York; Lent by Shelby White and Leon
Levy L.1999.74.1). Aruz 2003 (Photo: Photo Studio, The
Metropolitan Museum of Art).

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.

Fig. 7 Votive vase of Entemena, ruler of Lagash. Silver
on copper alloy base. Height: 35. Southern Mesopotamia,
ca. 2400 BC (Musée du Louvre, Paris). Roaf 1990 (Photo:
Service Photographique de la Réuion des Musées Nationaux,
Paris).

(3000–2800 BCE) of western Iran (Fig. 9). Worked

sheet was also used to create large freestanding figures
with a minimal use of metal. The bull statues that
originally adorned the façade of the Early Dynastic IIIB
(2400–2250 BCE) Ninhursaga temple at Tell al Ubaid
featured bodies consisting of worked copper alloy
plates that were nailed onto carved wooden cores.
Before its cladding, the wood was coated with a pliable
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 9 Keeling bull holding a vessel. Silver. Height: 16.3 cm.
Iran. Proto-Elamite period, ca. 3000–2800 BCE (The
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Joseph
Pulitzer Bequest 1966, 66.173). Aruz 2003 (Photo: Photo
Studio, The Metropolitan Museum of Art).

bitumen layer in order to support the metal during its
final chasing (Fig. 10).
Various casting methods also were employed accord-
ing to the type of object being produced. Open-faced
moulds may have been used to produce flat tools such
as the sickles found in a hoard of mid-second millen-
nium farming implements from Tell Sifr in southern
Mesopotamia (Fig. 11). Bivalve moulds were used
to cast solid objects of simple shape. Reusable moulds –
which varied in complexity from the late third
millennium BCE stone mold for casting trinkets and
jewelry such as the example found at Sippar (Fig. 12),
to a Neo-Assyrian multipart metal mould for simulta-
neously casting several arrowheads – were used to
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 10 Standing bull from temple. Copper alloy, wood and
bitumen. Height: 71.2 cm. Tell al Ubaid, Mesopotamia. Early
Dynastic IIIB period, ca. 2400–2250 BCE (The University of
Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology,
Philadelphia, B15886). Aruz 2003 (Photo: The University of
Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology).
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 11 Farming implements from Tell Sifr in southern
Mesopotamia. Early second millennium BCE Copper alloy.
(The Trustees of the British Museum, London). Moorey 1971
(Photo: The Trustees of the British Museum).
Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia 1629
mass produce identical castings. Such easily portable
molds, which may have been owned by itinerant
craftsmen, enabled the widespread diffusion of cultural
forms and metalworking expertise.
It was the technique of lost-wax casting, however,
that provided Mesopotamian craftsmen with their
greatest opportunity to display their metallurgical and
artistic skills. First attested by the intriguing “stan-
dards” and “scepters” of the Nahal Mishmar hoard, this
technique was sufficiently advanced by the Akkadian
period (ca. 2350–2100 BCE) to facilitate the produc-
tion of the earliest large scale metal sculptures known
from the ancient world including the head of an ruler
and the lower half of a male figure on an inscribed
base, both dated to the Akkadian period and found in
northern Iraq (Figs. 13 and 14) (see Extra). Lost-wax
casting begins with the sculpting of a model in wax
or other thermoplastic material that is covered – or
invested – with clay and fired, causing the wax to melt
out through channels provided in the investment. During
casting, these channels provide access for the molten
metal to enter the mold and egress for gases evolved
that could impede its flow. In order to reduce the
amount of metal required as well as the risk of casting
flaws, the model can be fashioned over a core of
refractory clay that is held in place by metal supports
inserted through the investment and into the core before
the removal of the wax. After casting, the investment is
broken away and the core supports are removed down
M
to the surrounding surface.
Bronze – often with the addition of minor amounts
of lead – is an excellent casting alloy, as tin can lower
the melting point of copper by as much as 200°C and
inhibit the oxidation of copper which can lead to
casting flaws. Since the use of tin is so advantageous,
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 12 Mould form for jewelry, seals, and amulets. Stone.
Height: 9 cm. Sippar, Mesopotamia. Late third millennium
BCE (The Trustees of the British Museum, London, BM
91902). Aruz 2003 (Photo: The Trustees of the British
Museum).
1630 Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 13 Head of a Ruler found at Nineveh. Copper alloy.
Height: 36 cm. Mesopotamia. Akkadian period, ca. 2300–
2159 BCE (Iraq Museum, Baghdad, IM 11331). Oates 1986
(Photo: Directorate-General of Antiquities, Baghdad).
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 14 Nude, belted figure found at Bassetki. Copper alloy.
Diameter of base: 67 cm. Mesopotamia. Akkadian period, ca.
2300–2159 BCE (Iraq Museum, Baghdad, IM 77823). Oates
1986 (Photo: Directorate-General of Antiquities, Baghdad).
its absence in many of the copper alloy sculptures
produced before the Iron Age has often been attributed
to disruptions in the tin trade. That other factors may
have influenced the composition of the metals used,
however, is suggested by the sculpture of the Middle
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 15 Statue of Queen Napir-Asu. Copper alloys. Susa,
Iran. Middle-Elamite period, fourteenth century BCE.
Height: 129 cm. (Musée du Louvre, Paris, Sb 2731). Harper
1992 (Photo: Photo Studio, The Metropolitan Museum of
Art).
Elamite Queen Napir-Asu (ca. fourteenth century BCE)
that was excavated in Iran at the site of the ancient
city of Susa. The outer shell of this life-sized metal
sculpture was cast by the lost wax method over a
ceramic core using copper containing only 1% tin
(Meyers 1996). For reasons that remain unknown, the
ceramic core was subsequently removed and the void
was filled with a bronze alloy containing 11% tin
(Fig. 15). That the more intractable alloy was used for
casting the outer shell even when tin appears to have
been on hand may be due to the fact that a considerable
amount of work was required to remove and/or patch
casting imperfections and to add surface details and
inscriptions with tracers after casting. Before the advent
of hardened iron alloys that could engrave or cut into
copper, this work may have been easier to execute on
relatively pure copper rather than on bronze.
Although some casting of precious metals occurred,
the rarity of gold and silver dictated that they be used
more economically in sheet form to create vessels,
jewelry and small figures. The numerous elements of
gold sheet used in the elaborate headdress of Queen
Puabi found at Ur undoubtedly created a striking visual
and aural impression when worn (Fig. 16). Silver and
gold also were also beaten into foil or very thin leaf
that was used in the embellishment of baser materials
in objects destined for elite or sacred use such as
the lyres and rearing goat statues also found at Ur

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 16 Queen Puabi’s Headdress. Ur, Southern
Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA period, ca. 2550–2400
BCE (University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology
and Anthropology, Philadelphia, B 16692–3, 17709–12).
Zettler 1998 (Photo: The University of Archaeology and
Anthropology).
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 17 Great Lyre from King’s Grave, Gold, silver, lapis
lazuli, shell, bitumen and wood. Height of head: 35.6 cm. Ur,
southern Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA period, ca.
2550–2400 BCE (University of Pennsylvania Museum of
Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, B17694).
Aruz 2003 (Photo: The University of Pennsylvania Museum
of Archaeology and Anthropology).
Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia 1631
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 18 Rearing goat with flowering plant. Gold, silver, lapis
lazuli, copper alloy, shell, red limestone and bitumen. Height
42.6 cm. Ur, Southern Mesopotamia. Early Dynastic IIIA
period, ca. 2550–2400 BCE (University of Pennsylvania
Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia,
30–12–702). Aruz 2003. (Photo: The University of
Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology).
M
(Figs. 17 and 18). Grooves for mechanically locking
metal foils in place found on copper alloy sculptures –
including that of Queen Napri-Asu – indicate that
metal surfaces could also be partially or fully gilt.
In addition to mechanical joins involving nails, rivets,
crimping and casting onto existing metal surfaces,
metallurgical joins were made using solders of various
compositions. The use of soft (i.e., lead/tin) solders,
which melt at low temperatures and are difficult to
control, was mainly relegated to joins in copper alloy
objects that would not be readily visible. Metallurgical
joins on precious metal objects were made either by
carefully heating metal surfaces until they fused – a
technique known as “sweating” – or by using hard
solders containing copper which has a lower melting
point than either silver or gold. Ancient metalworkers
were very skillful at exploiting minor differences in
the melting temperatures of these hard solders when
constructing complex objects. For example, the seven-
teen sections of the Proto Elamite kneeling bull noted
above were joined using silver solders containing
increasing amounts of copper – and consequently lower
melting points – as the figure was assembled, thus
ensuring that previously made joins would not fail
each time the appropriate amount of heat was applied.
Elements in gold jewelry also could be affixed in place
1632 Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 19 Necklace with pendants. Gold. Length: 43 cm.
Dilbert, southern Mesopotamia. Nineteenth–eighteenth
century BCE (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York,
Fletcher Fund, 1947 (47.1a–h). Harper 1984 (Photo: Photo
Studio, The Metropolitan Museum of Art).
using a colloidal hard solder consisting of an organic
binder such as animal glue mixed with ground copper
salts. When heated, the combustion of the glue provided
a locally reduced atmosphere that aided the diffusion of
copper ions into the adjacent gold to produce a strong
and virtually invisible join that was ideal for affixing
tiny gold grains in granulation work as well as other
joins in complex jewelry constructions (Fig. 19).
The Advent of Iron
While iron oxide minerals and pigments as well as
meteoric iron had been used for centuries, the use of
iron alloys did not become widespread until the early
first millennium BCE, following an early development
in the region whose specific origins remain obscure.
The late appearance of iron is ascribed to the relatively
complicated processes required to obtain and fashion
usable iron objects. Due to a melting point – almost
500°C. above that of copper – that exceeded the
capability of early Mesopotamian pyrotechnology, iron
could not be directly separated from its slag or melted
for casting. (In the ancient world, only the Chinese
craftsmen appear to have developed the technology for
casting iron.) At about 800°C, the mass obtained from
the furnace – known as the bloom – required repeated
heating, folding, and hammering to squeeze out the
slag and provide a metal that could be shaped by
forging. While forging largely limited the use of iron to
the production of utilitarian objects such as tools and
weapons, skillful smiths could fashion complex shapes
such seen by a the multipiece sword attributed to the
Luristan region of southeastern Iran in the first half of
the first millennium BCE (Fig. 20).
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 20 Multipiece sword. Iron. Length: 50.1 cm. Luristan,
Iran. 750–650 BCE (The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
New York, H. Dunscombe Colt Gift, 1961 61.62). Muscarella
1988 (Photo: Photo Studio, The Metropolitan Museum
of Art).
Initially, wrought iron objects were relatively soft
and it was only with the development of techniques
such as carburization, in which carbon was introduced
at the surface to form low carbon steel, and quenching,
which preserved crystalline phases and structures
normally found at high temperatures, that useful cutting
edges harder than bronze could be produced. Although
this technology was not completely mastered in early
Mesopotamia, the relative abundance of iron ore
deposits allowed for a dramatic increase in the use of
this metal in the production of tools, weapons and
armor from the Neo-Assyrian period onward (Fig. 21).
Unfortunately, the extensive deterioration and loss of
many early iron artifacts has often complicated a full
reconstruction of early ferrous metallurgy.
As outlined above, almost all of the metalworking
techniques used up to modern times were developed in
the Ancient Near East. In addition, the long distance
trade spurred by the demand for raw materials and
metal artifacts resulted in the widespread dissemination
of technical knowledge and artistic styles across the
entire region. The study of recent archaeological dis-
coveries such as the Early Bronze Age copper manufac-
tory at Khirbat Hamra Ifdan in the southern Levant (Levy
et al.), as well as the continued examination and analysis
of artifacts, will undoubtedly broaden and revise our
understanding of the interaction of culture and technol-
ogy during this crucial period.

Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 21 Helmet. Iron. Height: 30.8 cm. Nimrud,
northern Mesopotamia. Neo-Assyrian period, eighth
century BCE (The Trustees of the British Museum,
London, BM 22496). Curtis 1988 (Photo: The Trustees
of the British Museum).
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 22 Head of a Ruler. Copper alloy. Height 34.3 cm.
Mesopotamia. Akkadian period (?), late third millennium
(The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Rogers Fund,
1947 47.100.80. Aruz 2003 (Photo: Bruce White).
Metallurgy: Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia 1633
Metallurgy: Early Metallurgy in Mesopotamia.
Fig. 23 Horizontal computed tomography cross section
through the Head of a Ruler showing core supports (Photo:
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York).
Extra: Head of a Ruler
Based on its style, purported Iranian provenance as well as the
perceived ethnicity of its facial features and hair treatment, the Head
of a Ruler now in The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York has M
been attributed most often to the Elamite cultural sphere of the late
third millennium BCE (Fig. 22). Whether or not it is a true portrait,
this cast copper sculpture possesses a strikingly life-like presence that
is enhanced by specific features such as the broad nose, deeply set
eyes and prominent ears. The eye sockets, which are now empty,
were probably inlaid with shell or stone. A tang projecting from the
plate across the bottom of neck indicates that this head was attached
to a body or other mount that may have been made of another
material.
Long thought to be virtually solid, radiographic cross sections
recently obtained by computed tomography revealed that this head
contained a core and may be among the earliest examples known of
life-sized hollow casting. In addition to locating the position of core
supports, this examination found internal porosity associated with the
casting flaw on the right side of the beard as well as voids around the
ears which may indicate that they were made separately and joined to
the wax model of the head before casting (Fig. 23). If such is the case,
then this head bears some similarity in technique to an Akkadian
period copper head found at Nineveh that is now in the Iraq National
Museum in Baghdad (see main text Fig. 12 and Strommenger 1986).
See also: ▶Beads
References
Aruz, J. and R. Wallenfels. Art of the First Cities: The Third
Millennium B.C. from the Mediterranean to the Indus.
New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Yale
University Press, 2003.
Braun-Holzinger, E. A. Figürliche Bronzen aus Mesopota-
mien. Prähistorische Bronzefunde, Abt. I, vol. 4 (1991).
Munich.
1634 Metallurgy in Egypt
Cotterill, R. An Introduction to Metallurgy. London: Edward
Arnold, 1975.
---. The Cambridge Guide to the Material World. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1985.
Curtis, J. Bronze-working Centres of Western Central Asia
c. 1000-539 B.C. London: Kegan Paul International, 1988.
Curtis, J., et al. Neo Assyrian Ironworking Technology.
Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 123
(1979): 369–90.
Hallo, W. W. and W. K. Simpson. The Ancient Near East: A
History. Fort Worth, Texas: Harcourt Brace College
Publishers, 1998.
Hansen, D. P. A Proto-Elamite Silver Figurine in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art. Metropolitan Museum of
Art Journal 3 (1970): 5–14.
Harper, P. Ancient Near Eastern Art. Metropolitan Museum
of Art, Bulletin, New Series, 41.4 (1984).
Harper, P., et al. The Royal City of Susa: Ancient Near
Eastern Treasures in the Louvre. New York: The
Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1992.
Hodges, H. Artifacts: An Introduction to Primitive Technology.
New York: F. A. Praeger, 1964.
de Jesus, P. S. The Development of Prehistoric Mining and
Metallurgy in Anatolia. Vol. 74. Oxford: British Archaeo-
logical Reports International Series, 1980.
Kenoyer, J. M. Ancient Cities of the Indus Valley Civilization.
Karachi: Oxford University Press, 1998.
La Niece, S. Depletion Gilding from Third Millennium BC
Ur. Iraq 57 (1995): 41–7.
Leick, G. Mesopotamia: The Invention of the City. London:
Penguin Books, 2001.
Levy, T. E., et al. Early Bronze Age Metallurgy: A Newly
Discovered Copper Manufactory in Southern Jordan.
Antiquity 76 (2002): 425–37.
Maddin, R. The Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys.
Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1988.
Meyers, P. The Casting Process of the Statue of Queen Napir-
Asu in the Louvre. From The Parts to the Whole, Acta of the
13th International Bronze Congress Held at Cambridge,
Massachusetts, May 28–June 1, 1996, Ed. C. C. Mattusch et
al. Journal of Roman Archaeology I (2000): 11–8.
Moorey, P. R. S. Ancient Mesopotamian Materials and
Industries. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. (Comprehen-
sive review and bibliography of studies relating to
metallurgy and other technologies in ancient Mesopotamia.)
Moorey, P. R. S. The Loftus Hoard of Old Babylonian Tools
from Tell Sifr in Iraq. Iraq 33 (1971): 61–86.
Muhly, J. D. Copper and Tin: The Distribution of Mineral
Resources and the Nature of the Metals Trade in the
Bronze Age. New Haven: Connecticut Academy of Arts
and Sciences, 1973.
Muhly, J. D. Metals. The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeolo-
gy in the Near East. Vol. 4. Ed. E. M. Meyers. New York;
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. 1–15.
Muscarella, O. Bronze and Iron: Ancient Near Eastern
Artifacts in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York:
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1988.
Oates, J. Babylon. Revised Edition. London: Thames and
Hudson, 1986.
Ogden, J. M. Jewelry of the Ancient World. London: Trefoil,
1982.
Oppenheim, A. L. Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead
Civilization. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,
1977.
Piggot, V. C. Near Eastern Archaeometallurgy: Modern
Research Future and Directions. The Study of the Ancient
Near East in the Twenty-First Century: The William
Foxwell Albright Centennial Conference. Ed. J. S. Copper
and G. M. Schwartz. Winnona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996.
Pleiner, R. and J. K. Bjorkman. The Assyrian Iron Age: The
History of Iron in the Assyrian Civilization. Proceedings of
the American Philosophical Society 118 (1974): 283–313.
Postgate, J. N. Early Mesopotamia: Society and Economy at
the Dawn of History. London: Routledge, 1994.
Potts, D. T. Mesopotamian Civilization: The Material
Foundations. London: Athlone Press, 1977.
Roaf, M. Cultural Atlas of Mesopotamia and the Ancient
Near East. New York: Facts on File, 1990.
Rothenberg, B., ed. The Ancient Metallurgy of Copper:
Archaeology–Experiment–Theory. London: Institute for
Archaeo-Metallurgical Studies, Institute of Archaeology,
University College, London, 1990.
Scott, D. A. Metallography and Microstructure of Ancient
and Historic Metals. Marina del Rey. California: The J. P.
Getty Trust in Association with Archetype Books, 1991.
Smith, C. S. A Search for Structure. Cambridge,
Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1981.
Stetch, T. and V. C. Pigott. The Metals Trade in Southwest
Asia in the Third Millennium B.C. Iraq 48 (1986): 39–64.
Strommenger, E. Early Metal Figures from Assur and the
Technology of Metal Casting. Sumer 42 (1986): 114–5.
Tylecote, R. A History of Metallurgy. London: Metal’s
Society, 1976.
Wertime, T. A. and J. D. Muhly eds. The Coming of the Age of
Iron. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1980.
Yener, K. A. The Domestication of Metals: The Rise of
Complex Metal Industries in Anatolia. Leiden; Köln;
Boston: Brill, 2000.
Zettler, R. L. and L. Horne eds. Treasures from the Royal
Tombs of Ur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Museum, University of Pennsylvania, 1998.
Internet Resources
▶www.ancientneareast.net
▶www.baghdadmuseum.org
▶www.etana.org/abzu
▶www.mesopotamia.co.uk
▶www.metmuseum.org/works_of_art/introduction.asp?
dep=3
Metallurgy in Egypt
G REGG D E Y OUNG
Gold, silver, lead, and copper were among the metals
exploited by Egyptians since the pre-Dynastic period
(prior to ca. 3100 BCE). The main sources of these
metals were the deposits in the ancient rocks of the
Eastern Egyptian desert near the Red Sea and in the
Sinai. Iron implements, although present in Egypt from
the 26th Dynasty (ca. 665–525 BCE), did not become

common until the Ptolemaic period (305 BCE–30
BCE), for Egypt had no access to major sources of iron
ore. The most common metals for daily use were
copper and bronze (a copper–tin alloy).
With no written descriptions of the mining or
metallurgical operations we rely on vignettes of
metalworking that appear in some funerary art for our
understanding of the processes involved in procur-
ing metallic resources. Of course, some nuggets of
relatively pure metals can be found, but these were
certainly used up very quickly, forcing the ancient
Egyptians to learn the techniques for exploiting
deposits of metal ores. Mines might be either open
shallow pits or underground tunnels following
promising veins of ore. The remains of ancient mine
shafts and miners’ stone tools, as well as heaps of
waste, still indicate many of these sites. By the time of
the New Kingdom (ca. 1550–1085 BCE), Egypt
probably was relying more and more heavily on
imports of copper, as well as tin and iron to meet its
needs for metal implements.
There is some evidence to suggest that an initial
extraction of the metal from the ore matrix took place in
the vicinity of the mine itself. Extraction of the metal
involved either roasting (heating the ore with charcoal
in the open air) or smelting in closed furnaces using
either the addition of coke and silicate particles to
absorb impurities and aid in reducing the oxides to
metallic form or a forced air blast through the molten
slag to oxidize impurities and so free the metal. These
effects require a high temperature that is only achieved
though use of blowpipes or bellows to feed oxygen to a
charcoal fire. Many ancient peoples knew the technical
processes. In the context of ancient Egypt, however, we
should not forget the geographical setting in which
trees were not plentiful. Large-scale building projects,
such as pyramid construction, therefore, which require
extensive metallurgical implements, must have placed
many strains on the natural economy and demanded
complex administrative planning for their completion.
Pure copper is relatively soft, and so nearly useless for
many implements. When hammered, it rapidly becomes
harder and more brittle. This hardness may be removed
by annealing (heating the metal above 500°C and al-
lowing it to cool again). Many early edged implements
were apparently shaped through repeated hammering
and annealing, ending with a final hammering to
harden the cutting edge.
Other metal products might be formed by casting
(pouring molten metals into a pre-shaped stone or
ceramic mold) and allowing the metal to cool and
harden. For metallic objects not requiring solidity, the
“lost wax” technique of casting used less of the
precious metallic resources. In this process, the object
was first modeled in clay or some other heat-resistant
medium. This model was then coated with a layer of
Metallurgy in Egypt 1635
wax of uniform thickness. The wax, in turn, was
completely surrounded by yet another layer of clay or
plaster, leaving only a small opening into the wax-filled
layer. The mold was then heated, melting the wax,
which ran out through the drain provided. Through this
opening, molten metal was then carefully poured in
order to avoid formation of gas bubbles that might mar
the finished product and allowed to cool.
The formation of gas bubbles is difficult to avoid
with pure copper, since it absorbs gases which then
produce bubbles that weaken the final product. If,
however, a bit of tin is added to the copper, the results
are significantly improved. Alloying copper with about
10% tin also produces a considerably harder and more
durable metal, bronze. Bronze, therefore, was widely
used for tools and weapons from the time of the Middle
Kingdom (ca. 2150–1780 BCE) until replaced by iron
implements late in the New Kingdom period (after ca.
1000 BCE). Since tin is not found in commercial
quantities in Egypt, it is not certain whether bronze was
imported as a semi-finished product or was internally
produced with imported tin.
Metal tools such as chisels, knives, axe heads, and
adzes are common in funerary collections and are often
portrayed in Egyptian art. Another major use of metal
was in the production of weapons: daggers, swords,
spears, and battle axes. Defensive armor, such as mail
coats (made by riveting small bronze plates onto leather
jerkins) first became common during the New Kingdom
M
period. Protective helmets also appear to be a relatively
late innovation, although some tomb paintings from the
Ramesside period (ca. 1290–1225 BCE) show foreign
mercenaries equipped with protective headgear. A third
important use of copper (and later, bronze) was in
the production of domestic articles such as cauldrons,
ewers, basins, and ladles. Mirrors of polished metal were
common throughout the dynastic period. Excavators
have also found pins, tweezers, and razors.
The gold deposits of the eastern Egyptian desert and
Nubia were the largest in the ancient world, so perhaps
the techniques for extracting gold and its alloys, as well
as methods for working them, were discoveries of the
inhabitants of the Nile valley. We cannot be certain, of
course, for such knowledge was handed down from
father to son and from master to apprentice without
being recorded.
Sheets of metal, whether gold, silver, copper, or
bronze could be worked by a variety of techniques to
produce decorative effects. Repoussé is worked from
the back of the metal sheet so that the design stands
out on the front in raised relief. Chasing is relief
worked from the front of the sheet by hammering down
the background while leaving the desired figures raised
in the foreground. Engraving, also worked from
the front of the piece, means cutting a groove into the
metal during which a portion of the metal is actually
1636 Metallurgy in Meso and North America
removed. Tracing, which leaves a similar effect, does
not remove any metal from the piece.
Sometimes it is desirable to join together pieces of
worked metal to form an object. The ancient Egyptians
knew how to use a variety of soldering techniques
effectively. In soldering, a metal or alloy with a melting
point lower than that of the metal pieces to be joined is
allowed to flow along the seam. On cooling, the two
metal parts are joined together. Since the ancients rarely
worked with pure gold or other metals, the choice of
suitable solder was very important. For example, gold
and copper melt at very nearly the same temperature
(1,083 and 1,063°C, respectively). If 10 parts by weight
of copper is added to 90 parts of gold, however, the
mixture’s melting point is only 940°C. Thus, if one
were working with relatively pure gold, a gold–copper
alloy might prove a suitable solder to use. A somewhat
similar technique, sweating, involved coating the
edges of the pieces with the solder, bringing the edges
together and heating until the jointing compound
melted, without adding further solder. This latter often
makes a neater join than does soldering.
There has been considerable debate about whether
the ancient Egyptians knew how to draw wires. There
exist, both physically and in funerary art, numerous
examples of what seem to be beads strung on wires. It
is not clear, however, whether these were truly wires or
merely thin strips cut from a sheet of metal using a
chisel, for example, or whether friction with the beads
of the jewelry might be the true cause for such strips to
appear round like modern wire. Since Egyptian beads
were manufactured by drilling a hole through stone or
metal, there would be ample room for frictional forces
to enter the manufacturing process.
Jewelry was an important adornment of both gods
and humans. In ancient Egypt, people wore jewelry for
a variety of purposes. Perhaps the most important was
as amulets to protect the wearer from evil forces that
seemed to surround human life on every side. Gold
itself was considered magical, identified by some with
the flesh of the gods since gold, among the metals
known to the ancient Egyptians, was least susceptible
to tarnishing and change. Precious stones were also
used, along with natural objects such as the claws of
a ferocious creature (who may have been considered
to embody the powers of the god). Jewels could also
be used, perhaps as an extension of their magical
power, to enhance the sexual attractiveness of the
wearer. They could also, as today, serve as symbols
of status and wealth. We have reports of Pharaohs
giving golden collars or other ornaments to their
favorites as a mark of distinction. Jewelry was also
essential to the burial customs of the Egyptians.
Finally, jewelry could indicate the power to carry out
royal prerogatives delegated by the Pharaoh. The man
who held the king’s signet ring or royal seal, for example,
carried enormous responsibilities, both politically and
religiously.
Jewelry making seems to have been an important
activity in relatively few centers of culture and political
power. Since gold was mainly the possession of
royalty, it seems probable that jewelers who supplied
the royal household with golden ornaments enjoyed
considerable social and economic status. Three over-
seers of goldsmiths had tombs at Thebes, as did two
goldsmiths, indicating a fairly high social status. Of
course, the workers who actually carried out the
designs of the jewelers must have had a lower social
status, but they were not of the lowest social class.
Skilled workmen in metals would always have been in
demand, and this demand would translate into at least a
modest level of social prestige and influence.
References
Aldred, C. Jewels of the Pharaohs. London: Thames and
Hudson, 1978.
Andrews, C. Ancient Egyptian Jewelry. London: British
Museum, 1990.
Forbes, R. J. Metallurgy in Antiquity. Leiden: Brill, 1950.
Scheel, B. Egyptian Metalworking and Tools. Aylesbury:
Shire, 1989.
Metallurgy in Meso and North America
R UBEN G. M ENDOZA
Native American metallurgical technologies held great
attraction for sixteenth century European empires
seeking to stake claims in the American New World.
While the technical feats and mastery of Native
American metalworks have only recently generated
systematic scientific inquiries (Benson 1979; Lechtman
1979, 1984, 1991; Lechtman et al., 1982), the attraction
of Mesoamerican and Andean precious metals has
resulted in the plundering of massive quantities of
these metals – often in the form of jewelry and other
materials – from ancient centers where they served
both ceremonial and funerary functions. Precious
metals craftsmanship was an ongoing enterprise at the
time of the Spanish conquest of the Inca state in 1532;
heirloom items, ritual caches, and funerary offerings
fed the raging smelters of European outposts in the
New World for the duration of the colonial period. The
crafted booty delivered to Fernando Pizarro by the Inca
nobility, as ransom for the Inca Emperor Atahualpa,

occupied nine forges for four months in 1533; this, in
order to smelt the over 26,000 pounds of silver and
13,420 pounds of gold jewelry and other reliquary
collected as tribute at that time. For the Spaniards, gold
and silver were the fuel that propelled the expansion of
the Holy Roman Empire; while for the Inca, gold, and
silver symbolized the sweat of the sun and the tears of
the moon, and thereby, the cosmologically ordained
male and female principles, respectively.
Much of the precious metal processed by early
European colonists in the New World was smelted from
intricate works of art crafted into jewelry sewn into
elaborate blankets, capes, shawls, and other clothing, as
well as worked into ritual and funerary art and
furnishings, weapons of war, and medical and agricul-
tural tools (Easby 1974). Ancient and large-scale
metallurgical workshops and industrial centers are
known from the patios de Indios (native workshops) of
Colombia, and from such ancient centers as Atzcapot-
zalco, Mexico, where craft guilds were a significant
aspect of the economic and social landscape.
The growing international black market in antiqui-
ties has both hastened the looting of ancient sites
containing pre-Columbian metal craft, and has, by
extension, spurred the collection and preservation of
these works as priceless relics of a bygone age. When
one takes into account the fact that individual tombs
from sites such as Batan Grande, Peru, contained as
many as 200 gold objects, much of which consisted of
tall – 30 cm – gold beakers, it is no wonder that much
of this legacy has already been destroyed. Other
funerary chambers, like that of Tomb 107 at Monte
Alban, Oaxaca, Mexico, contained a veritable treasure
trove of over 500 precious metal and stone objects
recovered by Mexican archaeologists in the 1930s.
Other archaeologically documented precious metals
caches have been recovered from Zaachila, Oaxaca,
and Coclé, Panama. Where bronze craftsmanship is
concerned, individual tombs have produced upward of
500 kg of such metals worked from alloys of tin and
arsenic–bronze. Given the notoriety of such discov-
eries among grave robbers and the general public, it
should be of no surprise that looters persist in
destroying ancient sites in search of treasures.
The recent discovery and subsequent excavation of
the tomb of the warrior-priest of the ancient cere-
monial center of Moche, Peru – which contained a
collection of dynastic relics and funerary items of gold,
silver, and alloys of copper and tin – was initially
brought to the attention of the scientific community as a
result of looting. Despite such destruction, archaeolo-
gists and other investigators continue to document
the technical achievements of Native American metal-
lurgists of Peru, Mesoamerica, Central, and North
America (Shimada et al., 1983).
Metallurgy in Meso and North America 1637
In 1921, Swedish ethnographer, Erland Nordenskiold
began research into technical secrets made apparent
through metallurgical analysis of ancient metal objects
from South America (Linné 1957). Nordenskiold
ascertained that pre-Columbian metalworks were far
more technically sophisticated than imagined at that
time. He made a number of observations concerning
metallurgical problems, including those pertaining to the
metallurgical composition of tumbaga (a complex alloy
of copper and gold, or copper, gold, and silver), soldering
with silver, and the welding of copper. The technical
analyses completed by Nordenskiold were a precursor
to the sophisticated analyses now undertaken by archae-
ologists, and metallurgists, using a variety of techni-
ques ranging from replicative experiments – where the
objects themselves are reproduced with known ancient
methods and technologies under controlled conditions –
to physical and chemical tests to ascertain the com-
position and construction of the alloys employed in the
creation of pre-Columbian metal objects (Shimada 1988;
Meeks et al., 2002; Lechtman 1991).
The body of ancient technical secrets relevant to the
manufacture of pre-Columbian metal objects has
grown considerably since the first European observa-
tions of Native American metallurgical techniques in
the sixteenth century.
The Old Copper culture, which flourished from
3000 BCE to 1000 BCE along the shores of Lake
Superior in North America, is credited with having
M
introduced the earliest known metalworking tradit-
ion in the Americas. This tradition was the basis for
later developments in the use of copper and related
metals by Hopewellian and Mississippian peoples of
the first-millennium CE. Old Copper culture sites have
produced evidence of significant early metallurgical
techniques, including cold hammering, hammer weld-
ing, annealing, and the production of socketed metal
tools, conical points, knives, axes, chisels, awls, harpoon
heads, and a variety of projectile point types derived from
prototypes of stone, horn, shell, and bone. To this list we
can add sheet metal, intricate sheet metal cut-outs,
repoussé decoration, crimping, riveting, the gold sheath-
ing of copper, gold and copper beads, and the hammer-
welding of silver and copper, or “copper and meteoric
iron to produce bimetallic objects” (Easby 1966, 1974).
This demonstrates an early, independent, and regional
tradition in the art and science of metal craft.
The lost-wax, or cire perdue, casting process was
first employed in the region of Colombia by 100 BCE,
but quickly spread into Ecuador, and lower Central
America (Panama and Costa Rica), and was subse-
quently adopted in Peru and Mesoamerica by AD 800
(Hosler 1986). Ultimately, according to historian Easby
(1966), lost-wax casting achieved “its highest develop-
ment in the Oaxacan area of Mexico, where during the
1638 Metallurgy in Meso and North America
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries AD Mixtec master
craftsmen produced little hollow castings that are
unrivaled for delicacy, realism and precision.”
Where Mesoamerica is concerned, the North Ameri-
can tradition of cold hammering and annealing, and that
of South America, consisting of cold hammering,
annealing, and casting, inspired the initial development
of three distinct Mesoamerican metallurgical traditions.
These traditions include those that emerged in the areas
of upper Central America or southern Mesoamerica
(including southern Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras,
and El Salvador); the Pacific coastal lowlands includ-
ing the Tarascan culture area, and the Mexican Gulf
Coast lowlands and Yucatan Peninsula which encom-
passed the ancient Huastec, Totonac, and Maya cultures.
Archaeologist Hosler (1986) argues that the relatively
late adoption of metallurgy in Mesoamerica – after AD
700 – serves to explain the largely elite character of
the Mesoamerican metallurgical tradition. While both
South and North American metalcraft evolved from
a utilitarian foundation centered on the manufacture
of agricultural implements and other tools, trade and
exchange in precious metals ultimately inspired the
Mesoamerican metallurgical tradition. Hence, the
wholesale and widespread adoption and exchange of
metallic axe monies, tokens, and precious-metal objects.
While recent studies have yet to establish defini-
tively the earliest dates identified with the origins of
bronze metallurgy, Lechtman (1986) argues that arsenic
bronze. was in use in northern Peru by the fourth-century
AD. Tin–bronze originated in highland Bolivia by AD
700, and, by the Inca era (ca. AD 1450) spread throughout
the areas identified with the modern states of Peru,
Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina. Finally, metallic money –
in the form of copper axe blades and tokens – appeared in
Ecuador by AD 1000 and quickly spread throughout
South, Central, and Middle America.
The holistic nature, independent development, and
antiquity of Native American metals craftsmanship are
only now beginning to be clarified (Meeks et al., 2002).
Metallurgical technologies that were developed by pre-
Columbian craftsmen are far too numerous to discuss in
any detail in this essay. However, a partial listing
should provide some idea of the significance of this
legacy. Those identified to date include (a) the cire
perdue or lost wax casting process, (b) surface
metallurgy, depletion gilding, acid pickling, and
tumbaga, (c) the application of organic reagents
and binding emulsions, (d) arsenic, copper–arsenic,
and tin–bronze casting, (e) copper–arsenic, tin, and
bizmuth alloys, (f) silver chloride coatings, (g) gilt
copper sheeting, gold and silver sheathing, sheet metal
processing and fabrication, mechanical crimping, gold-
leaf treatments, hammer-welding, and the raising of
sheet metal vessels, (h) silver/silver–copper/spot solder
and soldering, (i) copper soldering, brazing, and spot
welding, (j) electrochemical replacement plating, (k)
complex annealing, cold-hammer and anvil, binary and
ternary alloy processing, and ground and hammered
meteoric iron implements, (l) charcoal-fed ore reduc-
tion and air-blast smelting/refining furnaces, (m) iron
ore or hematite flux, and the reduction of sulfide ores,
(n) open cast, multicomponent, and vented casting
molds, and powdered carbon casting emulsions such
as that of the Aztec teculatl (charcoal water), (o)
mechanical and metallurgical joins including metal
nails, rivets, staples, ribbon clips, strip clips, lacing,
long sockets, short tabs, tab-and-slot and other metal
fasteners, (p) repoussé and other embossed sheet metal
applications, including cinnabar cloisonné, (q) solid-
state diffusion bonding, sweat welding, fusion gilding
or Sheffield plating, and cladding, (r) slush casting,
(s) multicomponent sheet metal miniatures, (t) color
surface and powder metallurgy, (u) technologies for the
manufacture of thin cast rods, wire coils, strip wire,
wire-work surfacing and filigree, metal sequins, quad
metal mosaics, architectural cramps, agricultural blades
and implements, socketed chisels and related tools; and
copper and bronze axe blades, metallic monies and
tokens, (v) arsenic and tin–bronze implements includ-
ing fish hooks, eyed needles, pins, depilatory tweezers,
and surgical instruments such as tumi knives and
blades, (w) the standardization of metal ingots and
tools, (x) platinum plating, ore processing, and the
sintering of refractory metals such as platinum, and
finally, (y) a variety of prospecting methods, including
shallow shaft mining, the strip mining of exposed
deposits, and the placer mining of alluvial gold and
platinum. According to Lechtman, the tumbaga alloys
alone “constitute the most significant contribution of
the New World to the repertoire of alloy systems
developed among ancient societies.” It should be noted
that the processing of platinum (which has a melting
temperature of 3,000° Fahrenheit), was a feat accom-
plished by ancient Ecuadorian metallurgists by way of
the “mixing of grains of platinum with gold dust”
through a powder process identified with the “sintering
of refractory metals” (Easby 1966; meaks et al., 2002).
Electrochemical replacement plating and depletion
gilding, developed by the Moche of Peru nearly 2,000
years ago, allowed ancient Native Americans to
plate precious metals on to semiprecious metals to
a thickness of less than 1 μm. This electrochemical
replacement process was not rediscovered until the
twentieth century CE. Recent studies indicate that
electrochemical replacement plating and depletion
gilding or silvering “both involve sophisticated chem-
istry, and pre-Columbian surface metallurgy is surely as
much chemistry as it is metallurgy” (Lechtman 1986).
As Easby says, “the tale persists that the egotistical
Benavento Cellini spent months trying to ascertain
how an ancient Mexican craftsmen had fashioned a
silver fish with gold scales and finally conceded that
he was baffled.” Unfortunately, as is the case with so

many other aboriginal New World technological
innovations, the very presence of such metallurgical
traditions as that of the lost-wax casting process and tin
and arsenic–copper bronze alloys was once taken to
indicate that such technologies were introduced or
diffused from the Old World.
Recent archaeological investigations underscore the
paucity of information pertaining to metallurgy cur-
rently at our disposal, as well as the abundance of
ancient archaeological materials that have yet to be
studied in any systematic fashion (Lechtman 1986).
Unfortunately, the relatively recent and highly specialized
nature of publications pertaining to pre-Columbian
metallurgy have led some scholars to suppose that even
the most ingenious ancient Native American technologies
were little more than isolated or accidental instances of
technical insight and ingenuity. Such scholarly perspec-
tives are clearly artifacts borne of the relative scarcity
of and limited access to information. As the body of
studies grows, it is becoming clear that innovations in
metallurgy, such as depletion gilding and electrochemi-
cal replacement plating, were far more ancient and
widespread than once thought.
While the wholesale destruction of the pre-
Columbian world has closed an important window on
the cosmology and beliefs of its metallurgists, we can
nevertheless advance interpretations as to the social and
ritual significance of metals based on contact-period
and ethnographic accounts.
Both Inca and Aztec craftsmen, and Native Amer-
icans more generally, identified precious metals – gold
and silver – with the male and female principles. The
alloying of copper and gold, or, copper, gold, and
silver, which produced a red, pink, or golden metal
known as tumbaga, was in turn identified with the
menstrual flow and ambered moon. Among the contem-
porary metals craftsmen of west Africa, smelters are
designed to symbolize the female sexual organs, while the
metals themselves are thought symbolic of the male
principle embodied in semen and other bodily fluids.
The cosmological message inherent in the metal itself,
when combined with the supernatural and religious
icons and images, must surely have served to enhance the
power and prestige of the bearer, while at the same time
providing clear indications of that individual’s identifica-
tion with supernatural and cosmic forces. The use of
metals in personal adornment and ritual attire served
to convey the associations of the bearer with universal
principles, within which gender ultimately served as
a distinguishing characteristic of the individual, and
thereby, the cosmos.
References
Benson, Elizabeth P. Pre-Columbian Metallurgy of South
America. Ed. E. P. Benson. Washington, DC: Dumbarton
Oaks, 1979.
Metallurgy in the Near East 1639
Bird, Junius B. The ‘Copper Man’: A Prehistoric Miner and
His Tools from Northern Chile. Pre-Columbian Metallurgy
of South America. Ed. E. P. Benson. Washington, DC:
Dumbarton Oaks, 1979. 105–32.
Easby, Dudley T, Jr. Early Metallurgy in the New World.
Scientific American 214.4 (1966): 72–8. Rpt. New World
Archaeology: Theoretical and Cultural Transformations. Ed.
Ezra B. W. Zubrow. San Francisco: W. H. Freeman, 1974.
Hosler, Dorothy. The Metallurgy of Ancient West Mexico.
The Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys. Ed. Robert
Maddin. Papers from the Second International Conference
on the Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys, China,
Zhengzhou, October 21–26, 1986. 328–43.
Lechtman, Heather. Issues in Andean Metallurgy. Pre-
Columbian Metallurgy of South America. Ed. E. P. Benson.
Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1979. 1–40.
---. Pre-Columbian Surface Metallurgy. Scientific American
250.6 (1984): 56–63.
---. Traditions and Styles in Central Andean Metalworking.
The Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys. Ed. Robert
Maddin. Papers from the Second International Conference
on the Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys, China,
Zhengzhou, October 21–26, 1986. 344–78.
---. The Production of Copper–Arsenic Alloys in the Central
Andes: Highland Ores and Coastal Smelter? Journal of
Field Archaeology18.1 (1991): 43–76.
Lechtman, Heather, Antonieta Erlij, and Edward J. Barry, Jr.
New Perspectives on Moche Metallurgy: Techniques of
Gilding Copper at Loma Negra, Northern Peru. American
Antiquity 47.1 (1982): 3–30.
Linné, S. Technical Secrets of the American Indians: The
Huxley Memorial Lecture. Journal of the Royal Anthropo-
logical Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 37.2 (1957): M
149–64.
Meeks, N., S. La Niece, and P. Estévez. The Technology of
Early Platinum Plating: A Gold Mask of the La Tolita
Culture, Ecuador. Archaeometry 44 (2002): 273–84.
Shimada, Izumi. Sican Metallurgy: Bronze Age. Lecture for
the Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona,
Tucson, April 11, 1988.
Shimada, Izumi, Stephen M. Epstein, and Alan K. Craig.
Batan Grande: A Prehistoric Metallurgical Center in Peru.
Science 216 (1982): 952–9.
---. The Metallurgical Process in Ancient North Peru.
Archaeology 36.5 (1983): 38–45.
Metallurgy in the Near East
A Zooarchaeological Perspective on the
Origins of Metallurgy in the Near East:
Analysis of Stone and Metal Cut Marks on
Bone from Israel
H ASKEL J. G REENFIELD
The Near East represents one of the earliest centers for
the development of metallurgical technology and is
crucial to the investigation of issues related to the
development of metallurgy (Tylecote 1986, 1987,
1640 Metallurgy in the Near East
1992; Muhly 1988; Wertheim and Muhly 1980).
Metallurgy appears very early, with the recovery of
cold-hammered copper artifacts from the Late Pre-
Pottery Neolithic. With the development of smelting
techniques, copper metallurgy spreads fairly quickly
and widely during the Chalcolithic. Metallurgy spread
ever more rapidly when it was discovered that the
properties of copper could be improved by alloying
copper with other metals such as arsenic, lead, or tin, to
produce bronze. Bronze tools begin to be found in the
Early Bronze Age (EBA). By the Middle Bronze Age,
the use of bronze becomes more frequent (Maddin et al.
1999; Mellaart 1976; Moorey 1998; Redman 1978).
However, it is impossible to document the introduction
and spread of metallurgy into a region by simply using
the frequency of metal finds. Metals, such as bronze
and copper, are notoriously unstable. They decompose
under most depositional conditions and/or are reused.
The objective of my research has been to investigate
this issue from the perspective of Zooarcheology, or the
analysis of animal bones from archaeological contexts.
Slicing cut or butchering marks on bones can be used
to identifying the nature of the raw materials which
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 1 Cut mark on bone from site of Atlit Yam, sample 164 (Photo by Haskel J. Greenfield).
were used in the butchering of animals (Fig. 1). By
distinguishing whether metal or stone tools make cut
marks on animal bones, an independent measure of
the relative importance of the different raw materials
used for butchering or cutting of meat can be generated.
The spread of metallurgy, as a result, can then be
quantitatively monitored both across time and space
within a region, and even within a single settlement.
Method
The method for distinguishing between stone and metal
cut marks is based on experimental research conducted
by the author and others and is discussed at length
elsewhere. It will be only briefly summarized here
(Greenfield 1999, 2000a, 2002a, 2002c, 2006; Olsen
1989). In order to identify bones with butchering marks
on them, each bone fragment was individually examined.
Most of the butchering marks were readily identifiable
to the naked eye. A low power magnifying glass was
used to survey each bone in order to enhance the potential
for discovering butchering marks. Even though micro-
scopic examination of the entire surface of each bone
 Metallurgy in the Near East 1641

may have located a higher number of butchering marks,

it was not deemed to be a realistic in terms of sample
size, time, and finances.
Butchering marks are often relatively easy to
distinguish in this period from tooth and other marks
in later prehistoric bone assemblages. The nature of the
activity leaves a relatively clear signature for even
the naked eye – a relatively short straight incision in the
bone. Many bones with potential cut marks were
rejected when subjected to microscopic examination
since they were deemed to be caused by nonbutchering
sources. Once butchering marks were identified, the cut
mark was examined under a light optical microscope
and a tentative identification of the nature of the raw
material of the implement was made – stone or metal.
Subsequently, a silicone mold of the incision was
made in order to further study the mark in a scanning
electron microscope. Each mold was subjected to
further examination by the author and another assistant
in the lab at the University of Manitoba. In this way,
each mold was separately and repeatedly examined to
determine whether a stone or metal blade had been used
during butchering. This ensured a level of accuracy and
repeatability of results rarely encountered in such
analyses.
Several simple diagnostic criteria can be used to
distinguish metal from stone tools. Metal tools have the
following patterns (Fig. 2):
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 2 Profiles of cut marks
M
1. Metal knife blades sharp V-shaped or (Fig. 3) hard
made by stone and metal blades.
cornered |_|-shaped grooves (Fig. 4) that meet at a
distinct apex at the bottom of the groove (Fig. 2a,b).
2. Metal tools make more uniform patterns on the
bone, often removing material in the groove more
effectively. They leave either no striations or
striations of a more uniform depth and spacing than
when stone tools are used (Fig. 5).
In general, metal knives produce a cleaner and more even
slicing cut (except for serrated-edge blades – Fig. 2c).
By contrast, chipped stone tools have different
diagnostics, which can be summarized as follows:
1. Chipped tools (blades or flakes) create a groove
with one side rising steeply and smoothly and the
other side rising more gradually (Figs.6 and 1e),
except for scrapers (Fig. 1d).
2. The gradually rising side will have one or more striae
that run parallel to the apex of the cut, depending on
whether it is retouched or not (Fig. 7).
3. Retouched tools may have lateral striations on both
sides of the apex, depending on whether they are
unifacially or bifacially retouched (Fig. 1f,g).
4. Stone tools produce a shallower, less even cut mark.
In sum, the type of raw material used in making a Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 3 Inverse mold of
butchering implement can be distinguished on the basis flat-sided metal knife (metal 9c) cut mark.
1642 Metallurgy in the Near East
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 4 Inverse mold of dulled
metal knife (an236) cut mark.
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 5 Inverse mold of flat
metal blade (metal 4c).
of its profile. In this illustration, typical profiles for
different types of metal or stone butchering implements
are presented.
Data
In order to investigate the origins of metallurgy in an
area, sites from before and after the assumed starting
point must be included in the analysis. Data from Israel
were chosen since this is an area with early metallurgy
(Levy 1998; Levy and Shalev 1989; Mazar 1990;
Shalev 1994; Shugar 1999) and is one of the few areas
of the Ancient Near East where many animal bone
collections are easily accessible for analysis. At this
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 6 Inverse mold of
unretouched stone blade (stone 125a) cut mark.
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 7 Inverse mold of
unifacially worked stone blade (stone 6a) cut mark.
point in time, data from over seventeen zooarchaeolo-
gical collections have already been analyzed from sites
excavated in Israel and the present Palestinian Authority
areas (Greenfield 2004a,b; Greenfield et al., 2006;
Saidel et al., 2006).
Data from the Proto-Neolithic through the Middle
Bronze Age are included in the study. In this way,
it is possible to monitor the possible introduction of
metallurgy even the Chalcolithic, when the first
metallurgy has been proposed to exist. Most of the sites

Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 8 Map of sites used in
analysis.
Metallurgy in the Near East. Fig. 9 Histogram of
percentage of metal cut mark frequency over time (average
per period).
fall into the PrePottery Neolithic, Pottery Neolithic, and
EBA. The other periods are more poorly represented.
Over the next few years, more sites will be added to the
database.
Results
A total of 857 bones with useable butchering related cut
marks have been identified (to date) from the above
Metallurgy in the Near East 1643
sites. The data can mostly be analyzed from the
perspective of time, although there are some inferences
that can be made with regard to spatial divisions with
the data.
Temporal Distribution of Butchered Remains
In the Proto, PrePottery, and Pottery Neolithic
assemblages, there is no evidence for metal cut marks
on bones (Fig. 9 and Table 1). This is not unexpected,
but is important to demonstrate. A few metal cut marks
were found at (Jericho in the PPNB sample), but these
have been deemed to be from intrusive or improperly
labeled specimens.
This pattern of stone tool dominance continues
during the Chalcolithic. While the sample size of sites
is much smaller than in the previous periods (n = 1,
Gilat), there are a substantial number of cut marks from
the site.
During the EBA, the pattern begins to change. Metal
cut marks begin to appear. The data from Jericho
indicate that both stone and metal cut marks were found
in the assemblage in substantial numbers. During the
EBA, metal tool marks are present in 41% of the bones
of Jericho.
But the frequencies of metal cut marks in other
Early Bronze (EB) sites is different from that seen
above for Jericho. At sites, such as Afridar near
Ashkelon, 89% of the cut marks belong to stone tools
and the remainder are metal tool marks. At the nearby
M
EB site of Ashkelon Marina, the similarly low per-
centages of metal cut marks are found. Only 1 out of the
7 bones with identifiable cut marks had a metal cut mark
on it (14.28%). At Be’ erotayüm, all of the bones were
butchered with stone tools. The situation is less clear at
the EB sites of Dalit and Tel Kinrot. While the data are
evenly split, the frequencies of cut marks are so small
that they have no statistical reliability and should not be
given any weight in the analysis. They are presented
here merely to demonstrate that metal appears across a
wide range of sites during the Early Bronze Age.
Only one site with a Middle Bronze Age (MBA)
sample has been analyzed so far (Jericho). The
frequency of metal tool marks rises dramatically in
the MBA at Jericho to 94% of the total (85.19% in the
tell deposits and to 95.19% in the tomb deposits). This
indicates the nature of the dramatic change between the
two periods. The pattern for the MBA continues in later
periods. Metal tools made almost all of the cut marks.
Raw Material by Geographical Region
Some spatial interpretations of the data can be made, but
the data are very incomplete. There is evidence for early
use of metal for butchering during the MBA from a
variety of sites, ranging from the southern (Afridar and
Ashkelon) and central coastal regions (Dalit), through the
northern Negev (Arad) to the Jordan Valley (Jericho) see
1644 Metallurgy in the Near East

Metallurgy in the Near East. Table 1 Distribution of cut marks by period and site

Period Subperiod Site Stone no. % Metal no. %

Protoneolithic Jericho 4 100.00 0 0.00

PrePottery Neolithic PPNA Jericho 17 100.00 0 0.00
PrePottery Neolithic PPNB Jericho 15 88.24 2 11.76
PrePottery Neolithic PPNC Atlit yam 117 100.00 0 0.00
PrePottery Neolithic PPNB Yiftahel 4 100.00 0 0.00
Pottery Neolithic Jericho 1 100.00 0 0.00
Pottery Neolithic Lod 23 100.00 0 0.00
Pottery Neolithic Neve Yam 10 100.00 0 0.00
Pottery Neolithic Tel Dan 10 100.00 0 0.00
Pottery Neolithic Tel Hereiz 12 100.00 0 0.00
Chalcolithic Gilat 34 100.00 0 0.00
Early Bronze Age/EB I Afridar (1963) 10 100.00 0 0.00
Early Bronze Age Arad 86 91.49 8 8.51
Early Bronze Age Jericho 10 58.82 7 41.18
Early Bronze Age Dalit 2 1 100.00 0 0.00
Early Bronze Age Dalit 78 0 0.00 1 100.00
Early Bronze Age Tel Kinrot 1 100.00 0 0.00
Early Bronze Age EB I Ashkelon Marina 6 85.71 1 14.29
Early Bronze Age EB I Afridar 8 88.89 1 11.11
Early Bronze Age EB I/EB IV Rujm Be’erotayim 6 100.00 0 0.00
Middle Bronze Age total Tell and Tomb Jericho 13 6.07 201 93.93
Early Iron Age Eleventh century BCE Ashkelon tell 0 0.00 6 100.00

below. Other regions of the Country, such as the Central
Negev, do not show any use of metal. It is difficult, at
present, to discuss spatial trends within any single site
since the data are not yet processed from this perspective.
Raw Material by Taxon
While there is no perceived pattern of which taxa were
butchered with the various types of raw material, the EB
metal cut marks are concentrated on domestic and wild
cattle remains. This is visible in the data from Jericho,
with its large frequencies (Table 2). In the periods with
metallurgy (EBA and MBA), both domestic and wild
taxa are butchered with both metal and stone tools. This
pattern can also be seen in the data from EB Afridar
(Table 3).
Comparison with Other Sources of Data
In Israel and the PA areas, the origins of metallurgy
have also been investigated through the analysis of
lithics. Steve Rosen (1997) demonstrated that the first
stage in the adoption of metallurgy did not involve the
wholesale replacement of flint tools (as is commonly
assumed). Functional chipped stone tool types gradu-
ally disappear between the end of the Chalcolithic and
Iron Age. Some types disappear because of changes in
subsistence (arrowheads), while others are replaced
with metal types that had a corresponding function
(axes). Some stone tool types disappear quickly (at or
prior to the beginning of the Bronze Age – arrow-
heads), others disappear gradually through the Bronze
Age (axes), and some continue to be used into the Iron
Age (sickles). To explain the continued use of stone
(in the face of increasingly available metal tools) into
later periods, Rosen has suggested that until a clear
improvement in efficiency emerges, the economy
would perpetuate the use of the traditional material.
While the data from the region is admittedly very
small, geographically unrepresented, and was collected
for the most part haphazardly archaeologists in the field,
they still represent the only available data. Even so, they
can be used to represent changes in the region over time.
Eventually, more information will be added to the
database and process across space may be investigated.
Problems that plague the analysis are that it is hard
to obtain a statistically significant pattern from small
sample sizes and it is always possible that some material
from multiperiod sites (e.g. Jericho) that is found in one
or another stratum is either residual or intrusive,
especially when the objects are small (such as animal
bones). As a result, it is always possible that when you
have a very small database, the effect of possible
intrusions becomes statistically greater. It will only be
from relatively large samples that we can have enough
reliable data to draw definitive conclusions. Nonetheless,
the data allows us to draw some tentative conclusions.
The evidence indicates the evolution of a butchering
technology that changes over time. It was exclusively
 Metallurgy in the Near East 1645

Metallurgy in the Near East. Table 2 Distribution of cut marks by taxon and period (NISP) – Jericho

Period (revised) Domestication Taxon Metal Stone Grand total

Protonedithic Wild Gazella sp. 0 4 4

PPNA Wild Gazella sp. 0 14 14
Sus scrofafer. 0 1 1
Vulpes vulpes 0 1 1
Bos primigenius 0 1 1
PPNB Domestic Bos taurus 1 1 2
Wild Gazella sp. 0 9 9
Sus scrofafer. 0 1 1
Bos primigenius 1 4 5
Pottery Neolithic Domestic Ovis 0 1 1
Early middle BA Wild Gazella sp. 0 1 1
EBA Domestic Bos taurus 3 4 7
Ovis 2 3 5
Ovis/Capra 2 2 4
Wild Ovis orientalis 0 1 1
MBA Domestic Equus caballus 2 1 3
Ovis 0 1 1
Ovis/Capra 17 2 19
Sus scrofa dom 1 0 1
Sus scrofafer. 2 0 2
Wild Dama mesopotamica 1 0 1
MBA tomb Domestic Bos taurus 3 1 4
Capra 14 0 14
Capra hircus 9 0 9
Equus asinus 4 0 4
Ovis 105 6 111
M
Ovis aries 19 1 20
Ovis aries ? 2 0 2
Ovis/Capra 22 1 23
Grand total 210 61 271

Metallurgy in the Near East. Table 3 Distribution of cut mark by taxon (NISP) based on light optical microscope – Afridar

Domestication Taxon Metal no. % Stone no. % Grand total no.

Domestic Bos taurus 1 12.50 7 87.50 8

Bos taurus ? 0 0.00 1 100.00 1
Capra hircus 0 0.00 2 100.00 2
Ovis aries 0 0.00 4 100.00 4
Sus scrofa dom. 0 0.00 1 100.00 1
Ovis/Capra 0 0.00 4 100.00 4
Wild Alcelaphus buselaphus 0 0.00 1 100.00 1
Bos primigenius 1 100.00 0 0.00 1
? Large mammal 1 50.00 1 50.00 2
Medium mammal 1 100.00 0 0.00 1
Grand total 4 16.00 21 84.00 25

reliant upon stone tools from the Pre-Neolithic levels unmodified flakes, haphazardly made, or blades. In
(represented at Jericho), through the various sites contrast, the data from the EBA and MBA indicate
represented by PrePottery and Pottery Neolithic, and a gradual, followed by a substantial shift in butcher-
into the Chalcolithic periods. Most tools were probably ing technology from stone to metal. Stone butching
1646 Metallurgy in the Near East
technology continues to play an important role in the
EBA, but it is barely present in the MBA. This is not
surprising given the differences in the nature of
metallurgy between these two periods. Only copper or
occasionally natural arsenical alloys (i.e., arsenical
bronze) are in use until the very end of EB III, when tin
makes its appearance. The evidence from the cut marks
provides independent supports such a shift in metal
technology. A functional butchering bronze metallurgy
is entirely or almost nonexistent in the EB and this is
evident by the lower use of metal tools in the
butchering process.
It is apparent that there are some spatial differences
in the availability of metal. While most sites have little
or no metal cut marks during the EBA, major centers
such as Jericho have substantial quantities. This may
reflect the beginning of differential access to valued
resources over time.
The data presented above are important for increas-
ing our understanding of the spread and rate of
adoption of a functional metallurgical butchering
technology. It would appear to be adopted in spurts,
similar to the process described for the abandonment of
stone tools (Rosen 1997). These patterns appear to be
more common than previously thought. Comparable
data from other regions show striking similarities
(as in the central Balkans and in southern Turkey; see
Greenfield 1999, 2000a,b, 2002b).
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Liora Horwitz, Elizabeth Arnold,
Matthew Singer, Tina Jongsma, the late Eitan Tcher-
nov, and the many excavators for access to and use
of the data presented in this report. Any errors are of
my own making. Based on a paper originally presented
in the session “Organic Approaches to Near Eastern
Archaeology,” organized by Ed Maher, at the Annual
Meeting of the American School of Oriental Research,
November 19–23, Toronto.
References
Ben-Tor, A. The Archaeology of Ancient Israel. New Haven,
Connecticut: Yale University Press and Open University of
Israel, 1992.
Greenfield, Haskel J. The Origins of Metallurgy: Distinguish-
ing Stone from Metal Cut Marks on Bones from
Archaeological Sites. Journal of Archaeological Science
26 (1999): 797–808.
---. The origins of metallurgy in the central Balkans based on
the analysis of cut marks on animal bones. Environmental
Archaeology 5 (2000a): 119–32.
---. Animal bone fragmentation and the origins of metallurgy
in the central Balkans. Technology, Style and Society:
Contributions to Innovations Between the Alps and the
Black Sea in Prehistory. Nikolova. Ed. Lolita British
Archaeological Reports, International Series 854. Oxford:
BAR, 2000b. 93–6.
---. Distinguishing metal (steel and low-tin bronze) from
stone (flint and obsidian) tool cut marks on bone: an
experimental approach. Experimental Archaeology: Repli-
cating Past Objects, Behaviors, and Processes. Ed. James
R. British Mathieu. Archaeological Reports, International
Series 1035. Oxford: Bar, 2002a. 35–54.
---. Faunal remains from the Early Bronze Age site of
Titris Höyük, Turkey. Archaeozoology of the Near East
V (Proceedings of the ICAZ-SW Conference). Ed.
H. Buitenhuis, A. M. Choyke, M. Mashkour, and
A. H. Al-Shiyab. Archaeological Research and Consul-
tancy Publication 62. Groningen, The Netherlands:
Rijksuniversitit, 2002b. 252–61.
---. Origins of metallurgy: A zooarchaeological perspec-
tive from the Central Balkans. Eureka: The Archaeology
of Innovation (Proceedings of the 27th Annual Chacmool
Conference). Ed. Roman Harrison, Milan Gillespie
and Meaghan Peuramaki-Brown. Calgary: The Archaeo-
logical Association of the University of Calgary. 2002c,
430–48.
The butchered animal bone remains from Ashqeloa, Afridar-
Area G. ’Atiqot (Journal of the israel Archaeological
Society) 45 (2004a): 243–261.
The origins of metallurgy at Jericho (Tel es-Sultan): a
preliminary report on distinguishing stone from metal cut
marks on mammalian remains. Archaeozoology of the Near
East VI (Proceedings of the Sixth International Symposium
on the Archaeozoology of Southwestern Asia and Adjacent
Areas Conference). Eds. Hijlbe Buitenhuis, A.M. Choybe,
L. Martin, L. Bartosiewicz and M. Mashbour. ARC-
Publication Vol. 123, Rijksuniversitit, Groningen, The
Netherlands, 2005. 183–191.
Greenfield, Hasbel J., Ehud Gallili and Liora Horwitz. The
Butchered Animal Bone from Neve Yam, a submerged
Pottery Neolithic Site off the Carmel Coast. Mitebufat
Haeven (Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society) 36
(2006): 173–200.
---. The butchered animal bone remains from Atlit Yam,
Israel. `Atiqot (Journal of the Israel Archaeological
Society), In press-b.
Levy, Thomas E. Cult, metallurgy and rank societies –
Chalcolithic period (ca. 4500–3500 BCE). The Archaeol-
ogy of Society in the Holy Land. Ed. Thomas E. Levy.
London: Leicester University Press, 1995. 226–44.
Levy, Thomas E. and Sariel Shalev. Prehistoric metalworking
in the southern Levant: archaeometallurgical and social
perspectives. World Archaeology 20 (1989): 353–72.
Maddin, R., J. D. Muhly, and T. Stech. Early metalworking at
Çayönü. The Beginnings of Metallurgy. Ed. A. Haupt-
mann, E. Pernicka, Th. Rehren, and Ü.Yalçin. Der
Anschnitt, Beiheft 9, Bochum, 1999. 36–44.
Mazar, Amihai. The Archaeology of the Land of the Bible.
New York: Doubleday, 1990.
Mellaart, James. The Neolithic of the Near East. London:
Thames and Hudson, 1975.
Moorey, P. R. S. Early metallurgy in Mesopotamia. The
Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys. Ed. R. Maddin.
London: The MIT Press, 1988. 28–33.
Muhly, James D. The bronze age setting. The Coming of the
Age of Iron. Ed. T. A. Wertime and J. D. Muhly. New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1980. 25–68.
---. The beginning of metallurgy in the old world. The
Beginning of the Use of Metals and Alloys. Ed. R. Maddin.
London: The MIT Press, 1988. 2–20.
 Metallurgy in Northern South American indigenous societies: Pre-Columbian goldwork and social change
Olsen, Sandra L. The identification of stone and metal tool
marks on bone artifacts. Scanning Electron Microscopy in
Archaeology. Ed. Sandra L. Olsen. British Archaeological
Reports, I.S.S. 452.Oxford: BAR, 1988. 337–60.
Rosen, Steven A. Lithics After the Stone Age: A Handbook of
Tools From the Levant. Walnut Creek, California: Altamira
Press, 1997.
Seidel, Benjamin, Tali Erickson-Giri, Jacob Vardi, Steven A.
Rosen, Edward Maher, and Hasbel Greenfield. Egypt,
Copper, and Microlithic Drills: The test Escavations at
Rogem Be’erotayim in Western Negev. (Journal of the
Israel Prehistoric Society) 36 (2006): 201–229.
Shalev, S. The change in metal production from the
Chalcolithic period to the Early Bronze Age in Israel and
Jordan. Antiquity 68 (1994): 630–7.
Shugar, A. N. Archaeometallurgical Investigation of the
Chalcolithic Site of Abu Matar, Israel: A Reassessment of
Technology and its Implications for the Ghassulian
Culture. Ph.D. Thesis, Institute of Archaeology, University
College London, 2000.
Tylecote, R. F. The Prehistory of Metallurgy in the British
Isles. London: The Institute of Metals, 1986.
---. The Early History of the Metallurgy in Europe. London:
Longman, 1987.
---. A History of Metallurgy. 2nd ed. London: The Institute of
Metals, 1992.
Metallurgy in Northern South
American Indigenous Societies:
Pre-Columbian Goldwork and
Social Change
C ARL H ENRIK L ANGEBAEK
Goldwork played an important role in the development
of northern South American chiefdoms, particularly in
Columbia. Thus, the history of goldwork is also the
history of social change among indigenous societies.
Although relations between social organization and
goldwork are little known, new research has provided
valuable information especially during the last years.
It is now known that just the presence of goldwork is
no indication of social complexity. How spectacular
and well crafted goldwork is does not help to mea-
sure social complexity either. In all northern South
American regions, first evidence of social differentia-
tion (not political centralization) is reported early in the
sequence, sometimes in the absence of evidence of
goldwork. In most cases, goldwork was introduced at
a relatively late date, long after social differences
developed. But there are chronological differences,
both in the introduction of goldwork and the develop-
ment of complex societies. In the San Agustín Region,
goldwork is dated around 0 AD in the Upper Magdalena
Region. It is somewhat earlier in the Calima region and
1647
much later in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta and the
Eastern Highlands. The range is from around 400 to
1000 AD in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta and from
1000 to 1200 AD in the Eastern Highlands. Evidence of
social differences, on the other hand, is much earlier in
all regions. Nonetheless, despite differences in chron-
ology, and the contrast in some of the most conspicuous
evidence of monumentality, early chiefdoms with
political centralization are associated in many regions
with an important investment of energy in mortuary
practices and spectacular goldwork. Late indigenous
society’s goldwork was much less impressive.
There is evidence regarding the highly individualis-
tic nature of the early elites. Objects that are found
in their burials are frequently unlike anything else
excavated in the same region. Early burial goods from
Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Calima and the Upper
Magdalena are not only different from materials
found in domestic contexts but also from those found
at other elite burials. Frequently, elite objects are
inspired in foreign iconography. The San Agustín
statuary incorporated lowland representations; in Cali-
ma, goldwork was similar to Upper Magdalena
statuary. Neguanje offerings have been compared to
Lower Central American and Quimbaya goods. Early
Muisca goldwork was similar to the Quimbaya gold-
work. Nonetheless, long distance trade of luxury items
during the periods of chiefly development seems to be
M
limited. The Calima goldwork imitated the statuary of
San Agustín, but elite objects from San Agustín are yet
to be found in the Calima region. Likewise, the La
Badea burial in Dosquebradas includes gold ornaments
similar to those found in the Calima region during the
Yotoco Period, but they are not identical. The Neguanje
burial includes goldwork similar to what has been
called Classic Quimbaya, as well as pottery that
has been compared to that of la Guajira and stone
adornments comparable to those of Lower Central
America. But these goods are not identical to anything
else found in other burials and they seem to have been
locally crafted. In the Muisca territory early evidence
of goldwork was probably inspired in the so-called
Classic Quimbaya style. However, we are not talking
about imports, but instead of locally produced goods.
This is not to argue against the fact that during the early
period of chiefly emergence some objects were traded,
sometimes over long distances, for this was certainly
the case. It just means that copy and imitation were
practiced more often than trade. Whether this means
common cultural identity or not is not known. What is
clear is that local conditions seem of importance to
explain when and how goldwork was adopted and
consumed.
The role that imitating crafts from abroad played
in early chiefdoms was probably related to the role
of leaders as intermediaries with the outsiders. Helms
1648 Metallurgy in Northern South American indigenous societies: Pre-Columbian goldwork and social change
(1981) has proposed this on numerous occasions.
If Reichel-Dolmatoff (1988) is right about the iconogra-
phy of many Columbian gold objects, it seems reasonable
to argue that shamanistic icons played an important role
as the basis of leader’s legitimacy. The fact that most of
the early goldwork in all four regions was locally crafted
contradicts the idea that emerging elites concentrated
on long distance trade. Instead goldwork would have
functioned in highly competitive systems, within the
context of basically local changes in demography,
settlement patterns and economic conditions. As most
elite objects were locally crafted, and undoubtedly
are of extraordinary elaborate craftsmanship, it seems
reasonable to argue that the production of elite objects
was of importance for early chiefs, whether they or
attached craftsmen were in charge of such production.
Thus far, the direct evidence of such craftsmanship is
scant. Besides isolated objects, like an Ilama metallur-
gy tool kit and the fact that an early workshop for
goldworking was found in San Agustín associated to a
mound and elite burial, no other workshops have been
found. At any rate, production of gold adornments
seems to have been very limited precisely because
these were elite objects, limited to few individuals. The
only way in which such early craftsmen had a “market”
was because of the fact that prominent leaders passed
away and elite goods went with them.
The contrast with late chiefdoms is evident in all four
regions. What were previously materials associated
with the elites (i.e., gold or luxurious stones) were later
extensively used by the populace. Most frequently,
gold adornments did not find their way to burials
because they were inherited and accumulated by the
living. In the case of the Muisca, the use of gold was
not limited to the elite and neither was it among the
Tairona. The fact that nose rings are so frequently
represented in Sonso pottery suggests that this might
have been the case in the Calima region too. This
information is consistent with the idea of increasing
craft specialization. Despite the fact that certain objects
were consumed only by the elite, a characteristic of late
chiefdoms in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Eastern
Highlands, Calima, and the Upper Magdalena was that
production became specialized and oriented toward the
supply of a larger number of consumers. Late Muisca,
Tairona, and Calima pottery becomes so standardized
that the existence of centers dedicated to their pro-
duction is suggested. In the Muisca territory, sites
dedicated to the production of large quantities of
pots, gold offerings, and spindle-whorls have been
reported. In the Valle de la Plata region, it is only during
the last pre-Columbian period that a distribution
network from a single producing center of pottery
prevailed. And this was probably not just the case
with ceramics. In the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta
ethnohistorical information documents the existence
of villages specializing in the production of stone
adornments and goldwork.
Another common trait in late chiefdoms is that most
of the labor force was not used for the construction of
monuments, but rather for the construction of earth-
works dedicated to the production of food. Terraces for
agriculture, irrigation, and drainage systems become
usual traits in the Sierra Nevada. In Calima, the
landscape is transformed as never before by agricultur-
al practices. In the Eastern Highlands, mounds and
terraces are also related to agriculture for the times
prior to the arrival of the Spaniards. Archaeological
surveys in the Upper Magdalena and the Muisca
territory suggest settlement was not oriented toward the
exploitation of the best soils during the period of early
chiefdom emergence. Conversely, in the case of the
Muisca, it seems that the sixteenth century large
villages and seats of chiefly power were located on
some of the best soils in the region.
There are few documents where the production of
ornaments is described in detail for northern South
America. According to one source from the Magdalena
Valley the leaders themselves were goldworkers
(Martínez 1989). Nonetheless, in the Muisca territory
production was in the hands of specialists attached to
their service. In this territory it even seems that the
position of goldsmith was inherited (Langebaek 1996:
130). In all regions, the production of gold objects in
late periods was directed toward supplying a large
portion of the population, whether it was a matter of
producing adornments, as was the case among the
Tairona, or offerings, as it is reported among the
Muisca. In all cases, it seems that a larger demand
relates to processes of population growth. Available
research does not allow comparisons between the
production of late chiefdom metal ornaments and that
of earlier chiefdoms. The often small, mostly tumbaga
(an alloy of gold and copper) ornaments that seem to
constitute a large proportion of production in late
chiefdoms are certainly not very attractive to museums,
and they are often disregarded. But given that access to
such goods was in most cases open to the populace, there
is every reason to believe production was considerable.
Another feature of late Columbian chiefdoms was
the increase in external relations that were at least
partially controlled by the elites. The traditional view is
that early elites depended on long distance exchange
networks and that somehow they collapsed before the
Spanish conquest. However, early goldwork was not
only locally produced in all areas but in many cases it
was highly individualistic, and probably made for
specific individuals. Thus it is difficult to speculate
about extensive trade networks and even less about
their demise. In contrast, sixteenth century sources

depict active trade routes (Langebaek 1987, 1996;
Kurella 1994). Such trade involved the long distance
exchange of luxuries (Szaszdi 1983; Boomert 1987;
Whitehead 1990), as well as the exchange of raw
materials and crafts. In the case of long distance trade,
goods such as seashells, stone beads, and even some
gold ornaments from the coast found their way to the
Eastern Highlands. Crafts such as pottery circulated
across ethnic frontiers, but this usually involved short
distances within ethnic boundaries.
Goldwork played an important role in the develop-
ment of northern South American chiefdoms. Gold
objects are ideal means of communication. Therefore,
its use depends upon a social context that determines the
way in which it was used, its value, and, undoubtedly,
its meaning too. As archaeologists learn more about
pre-Columbian goldwork they have become aware of
the complex ways in which ideological and economic
factors came into play among goldworking indigenous
societies.
References
Boomert, Arie. Gifts of the Amazons: “GreenStone”
Pendants and Beads as Items of Ceremonial Exchange
in Amazonia and the Caribbean. Antropologica 67 (1987):
33–54.
Helms, Mary W. Precious Metals and Politics: Style and
Ideology in the Intermediate Area and Perú. Journal of
Latin American Lore 7.2 (1981): 215–38.
Kurella, Doris. Handel und soziale Organisation im
vorspanischen nördlichen Andenraum: Zur politischen
Ökonomie subandiner Häuptlingstümer im Gebiet des
ehemaligen Nuevo Reino de Granada vor der Eroberung
durch die Spanier im frühen 16 Jahrhundert. Bonn:
Holos, 1994.
Langebaek, Carl Henrik. Mercados, poblamiento e integra-
ción étnica entre los muiscas, siglo XVI. Colección
Bibliográfica,Banco de La República, Bogotá, 1987.
---. Patterns of Human Mobility and Elite Finances in
Sixteenth-Century Northern Colombia and Western Vene-
zuela. Chieftains, Power and Trade: Regional Interaction
in the Intermediate Area of the Americas. Ed. Carl Henrik
Langebaek and Felipe Cárdenas. Bogotá: Universidad de
los Andes, 1996. 155–74.
Martínez, Armando. Un caso de alteración aurífera colonial
en el bajo Magdalena. Boletín del Museo del Oro
23 (1989): 47–60.
Reichel-Dolmatoff, Gerardo. Goldwork and Shamanism: An
Iconographic Study of the Gold Museum. Medellín:
Compañía Litográfica Nacional S.A., 1988.
Szaszdi, Adam. Las rutas del comercio prehispánico de
metales. Cuadernos Prehispánicos 10 (1983): 5–128.
Whitehead, Neil Lancelot. The Mazaruni Pectoral: A Golden
Artifact Discovered in Guyana and the Historical Sources
Concerning Native Metallurgy in the Caribbean, Orinoco
and Northern Amazonia. Archaeology and Anthropology:
Journal of the WalterRoth Museum of Anthropology
7 (1990): 19–38.
Metallurgy in pre-Columbian South America 1649
Metallurgy in Pre-Columbian
South America
G RAY G RAFFAM
Numerous pre-Hispanic artifacts of gold and silver
craftsmanship testify to the exquisite skill of ancient
Andean peoples in their production of metallic art.
Prior to European arrival, ancient metallurgists pre-
vailed in working gold, in winning silver and copper
metal from a variety of rich ores, and in creating
various sophisticated alloys. Ancient artisans triumphed
in working these materials in ingenious ways to im-
prove their performance and appearance, and in joining
them to form complex composite pieces. A tremendous
wealth of exquisitely crafted metal ornaments and
metallic art was created through native talent. Today,
the skill of pre-Hispanic Andean peoples in winning
and working metals is revealed by early historical
sources, archeological research, and the remaining
portion of metal objects that avoided the Conquista-
dor’s torch. Some of the finest examples come from the
Moche and Chimu regions of northern Peru; they
include funerary masks, breastplates, diadems, and
crowns, some of which are inlaid with decorative
stones of turquoise and chrysocolla.
Early historical sources are clear in their portrayal of
M
native Andean peoples as skilled metallurgists. Among
the first chroniclers, Cieza de Leon described the
successful native process of smelting silver, using
wind-blown furnaces (huayras). Historical records for
Potosi are also clear in stating that it was through the
work of native metallurgists that the silver wealth was
first tapped. For nearly three decades, from 1545 to
1572, all silver production was the result of skilled
Andean natives, who used thousands of wind-blown
huayra furnaces to smelt the rich silver–lead ores. Such
furnaces were still employed by Andean natives in the
seventeenth century, at which time they were recorded
by people familiar with Old World metallurgy, and
similar devices have been employed well into the
twentieth century.
Archeological research today includes the discovery
and study of metallurgical sites. Work at the site of
Batan Grande in northern Peru reveals a centuries-long
sequence of copper–bronze production, ending with
Inca-period efforts just prior to the Spanish Conquest.
Detailed research by such scholars as Izumi Shimada
and John Merkel reveals the sophisticated nature of
the smelting procedure, and reconstructs the various
steps used in the metallurgical process. In addition,
recent related efforts by Heather Lechtman focus on
the source of the ores used in the production of the
1650 Metallurgy in pre-Columbian South America
copper–arsenic alloys, arguing for a highland-coastal
exchange. With regard to detailed archeological inves-
tigations of sites where metal was crafted, rather
than smelted, the research on metal craftsmanship
at Chan Chan is an important contribution, which
examines the activities carried out by metal smiths
within a particular district of that pre-Incaic city. Also
of note are investigations into the pre-Hispanic smelt-
ing facilities and processes in the South Andes. To date,
the earliest metallurgical (copper) slags in this latter
region come from the Wankarani site in highland
Bolivia; they date between 250 and 1200 BCE. Of
particular note, research at the Ramaditas site in
northern Chile reveals a highly skilled, natural draft
technology operating in the Atacama region by 100–50
BCE, where pre-Hispanic metallurgists were capable of
achieving a good separation of copper metal from
slag during production. These studies lend weight
to the idea of a highly effective metal smelting
technology in place in the South Andes during the
first millennium BCE.
In general, it is thought that gold working preceded
copper smelting, gold being found in a natural metallic
state in association with certain minerals. The earliest
known gold-working kit and beaten gold work in the
Andes date to approximately 1500 BCE from Waywaka,
Peru. The first working of native copper would also be
theoretically of a similarly early date.
The most extensive body of research on ancient
Andean metallurgy deals with analyses of the metal
artifacts themselves. Included here are laboratory
studies on gilding, joining of metals, alloying, and
the other techniques of artistry and design. When the
Spanish began melting metal objects shortly after the
Conquest, they noted with dismay that not all “golden”
objects were in fact pure gold. Many specimens
appeared to be gold on the surface, but were actually
copper alloy in the core, which meant that they had
little of their anticipated content of precious metal.
Modern laboratory studies have succeeded in replicat-
ing the ancient techniques employed in gilding, as well
as the casting, welding, and forming of exceptionally
well-crafted objects (Lechtman et al. 1982; Tushingham
et al. 1979). Andean craftsmen were adept in altering
the appearance of an alloy, sometimes within the same
piece, as in the case of Vicus nose ornaments. In some
cases, their illusions seemed to accomplish the impossi-
ble, where different metals appeared to be welded
together. These ancient metal smiths exercised superb
control over their artistic medium, in which the color of
the metal was as important a factor as the iconography
that the piece intended to convey.
As one shifts from the North Andes to the South
Andes, there is a shift in the metallic art from complex
and fully modeled pieces to artifacts of decorated sheet
metal. In Bolivia, northern Chile, and northwestern
Argentina, metallic art most often takes the form of
objects made from flat metal. Discs, diadems, bracelets,
rings, and pendants are common forms, all executed
from hammered sheet. Casting is also known, but
seems to be used primarily in the manufacture of axes
and mace heads, i.e., nondecorative objects that required
more substantial weight. The tradition of working sheet
metal has a long antiquity, extending back three
millennia.
Today, Andean natives remain active in working
metal and crafting pieces of native art. Like their
counterparts in the American Southwest, they melt
coins for metal, rather than smelt ores as formerly done.
The end product is most often geared toward tourist
consumption, which means that it is generally of a form
that is readily marketable. Still, there is a folk practice
that persists among the native Andean peoples, one
which has an extremely long history.
References
Bakewell, Peter. Miners of the Red Mountain: Indian Labor
at Potosi, 1545–1650. Albuquerque: University of New
Mexico Press, 1984.
Barba, Alvaro Alonzo. El Arte de los Metales. Trans. Ross
E. Douglass and E. P. Mathewson. New York: Wiley, 1640.
1923.
Cole, Jeffrey A. The Potosi Mita, 1573–1700. Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 1985.
Gonzalez, Alberto Rex. Las Placas Metalicas de los
Andes del Sur. Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp von
Zabern, 1992.
Graffam, Gray, Mario Rivera, and Alvaro Carevic. Copper
Smelting in the Atacama: Ancient Metallurgy at the
Ramaditas Site, Northern Chile. In Quest of Mineral
Wealth: Aboriginal and Colonial Mining and Metallurgy in
Spanish America. Ed. Alan Craig and Robert West. Baton
Rouge, Louisiana: Geoscience Publications, 1994.
Grossman, Joel W. An Ancient Gold Worker’s Tool Kit.
Archaeology 25 (1972): 270–5.
Lechtman, Heather. The Production of Copper–Arsenic
Alloys in the Central Andes: Highland Ores and Coastal
Smelters? Journal of Field Archaeology 18 (1991): 43–76.
Lechtman, Heather, Antonieta Erlij, and Edward J. Barry, Jr.
New Perspectives on Moche Metallurgy: Techniques of
Gilding Copper at Loma Negra, Northern Peru. American
Antiquity 47 (1982): 3–30.
Niemeyer, F. Hans, Miguel Cervellino, and Eduardo Munoz.
Vina del Cerro: Expresion Metalurgica Inka en el Valle de
Copiapo. Creces 4.4 (1983): 32–5.
Ponce, S. Carlos. Las Culturas Wankarani y Chiripa y su
Relacion con Tiwanaku. La Paz: Editorial “Los Amigos del
Libro”, 1970.
Rodriguez, O. Luis. Pre-Columbian Metallurgy of the
Southern Andes: A Regional Synthesis. Pre-Columbian
Metallurgy. Bogota: 45th International Congress of Amer-
icanists, Banco de la Republica, 1986. 402–17.
Shimada, Izumi and John F. Merkel. Copper-Alloy Metal-
lurgy in Ancient Peru. Scientific American 265.1 (1991):
80–6.
 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy
Shimada, Izumi, M. Epstein, Stephen and Alan K. Craig. The
Metallurgical Process in Ancient North Peru. Archaeology
36.5 (1983): 38–45.
Topic, John. Craft Production in the Kingdom of Chimor. The
Northern Dynasties: Kingship and Statecraft in Chimor.
Ed. Michael E. Moseley and Alana Cordy-Collins.
Washington, District of Columbia: Dumbarton Oaks
Research Library and Collection, 1990. 145–76.
Tushingham, A. D., Ursula M. Franklin, and Christopher
Toogood. Studies in Ancient Peruvian Metalworking.
Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum of History, Technology,
and Art, Monograph 3, 1979.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations
of Spanish Metallurgy
M ARK T. LYCETT, N OAH T HOMAS
Despite the long pre-Columbian tradition of metallurgi-
cal technology in West Mexico, there is no evidence for
the development of metallurgy in the US Southwest
prior to Spanish colonization. Metal bearing minerals
are widespread in the region and were used as pigments
and ornamentation prior to Spanish contact (see Extra).
Discussions of the largely untapped potential of mineral
wealth are ubiquitous in Spanish colonial descriptions of
New Mexico from the sixteenth through the nineteenth
centuries. Documentary sources suggest that iron,
copper, and other metals of every day necessity were
relatively scarce in this colony. Small amounts
of manufactured metals appear in assemblages from
Franciscan missions and other Pueblo settlements
occupied during this period. Despite the importance
and widespread use of these metals, there is little
evidence of mining or processing of local ores, and it has
generally been assumed that all metal in colonial period
New Mexico was imported from New Spain. While this
supposition may be true for much of the material
recovered in colonial period assemblages, strong
evidence of metal production has been found in a few
Hispanic contexts and from the missions of San Pedro
and San Marcos. While some of these processes were
spectacularly unsuccessful, copper metallurgy appears
to have been the predominant focus of this technology.
Archaeological and metallurgical analyses suggest a
number of important patterns in the organization and
development of these processes. Spatial segregation of
technological processes and activities is coupled with a
diversity of ore bodies, metals, and products, and shifts
in the use of facilities and processes. These create a
complex mosaic of emergent experimentation in novel
and hybrid technologies shaped by the requirements of
colonial tribute demands, locally available resources,
1651
indigenous knowledge and practices, and frontier
exchange relationships.
The colony of New Mexico was established in 1598,
at the height of Spanish silver production in the
New World. The mines in New Spain had produced
unprecedented wealth for the Spanish crown and had
begun to influence European economic systems through
the easy availability of silver currency allowing for the
development of early capitalism. The profitability of
the mines in New Spain was in a large part due to the
availability of cheap labor, primarily composed of both
coerced and paid Native American workers. In addition
to mining activities, Native West Mexican smiths were
sought after for their traditional metalworking skills.
The incorporation of indigenous individuals within the
industry also allowed for the development of technol-
ogies better suited to the dry, wood scarce environment
of northern New Spain than European water powered
and charcoal fueled smelting practices, through the
incorporation of indigenous traditional materials and
technologies. To facilitate production along these lines,
Spanish administrators often uprooted whole indige-
nous communities through forced relocations in order to
obtain closer proximities of labor, ore and fuel sources.
In contrast to Western Mexico, the organization of
early colonial metallurgy is very poorly documented in
New Mexico, with strong evidence of metal production
from a very few contexts. Recent excavations on the
early to mid-seventeenth century industrial terrace at
M
the Mission of San Pedro, known alternately as Paa-ko
Pueblo, have recovered extensive evidence suggesting
that the Pueblo occupants of this village experimented
with a range of metallurgy technologies including the
reduction of copper oxide and lead sulfide ores to
produce copper and lead metals, the refining of silver
through cupellation,1 the manufacture of sheet and cast
copper artifacts, and the forging of iron artifacts.
Located at the head of the San Pedro Valley, one
of three major drainage systems on the eastern slope of
the Sandia Mountains, this site lay outside of any of
the major settlement clusters or “provinces” identified
by Spanish colonists. It was a small scale, intermittent-
ly occupied, and partially incorporated community.
Although the village was part of the mission system, it
never had a resident friar or a permanent Spanish
presence. The situation of a metallurgical facility
within this remote community may have allowed some
colonists to engage in a valued form of production
outside of the scrutiny of colonial administration while
1
Cupellation is the recovery of precious metals in a cupel by
exposure to a blast of hot air that oxidizes the unwanted base
metals, such as lead, which are partly absorbed. A cupel is a
small container in which precious metals are refined,
especially in which gold and silver are separated from base
metals during assaying.
1652 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy
still maintaining access to mineral sources, fuel, and a
subject labor force (Fig. 1). Nevertheless, the evidence
at Paa-ko points toward a strong Pueblo involvement in
the design as well as the implementation of these
technologies.
At this site, a terraced hill slope covering more than
200 m2 was repeatedly used for metal production with
numerous superimposed and interdigitated facilities
produced through periodic episodes of use, mainte-
nance, and reconstruction over a number of years
(Fig. 2). The specific functions of these facilities may
have included copper smelting, copper ore roasting,
charcoal preparation, and iron forging. Both Spanish
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 1 View from Mission San Pedro looking
east towards local ore deposits in the Cerrillos Hills and the
Ortiz Mtns. Photo by Noah Thomas.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 2 Excavated metallurgical terrace, Mission
San Pedro. Photo by Mark Lycett.
and Puebloan construction techniques were incorporated
in the structure of the facilities. Traditional Puebloan
adobe and masonry construction techniques are integ-
rated with introduced construction technologies such as
mold-made adobe and core and veneer masonry tech-
niques. In addition, ventilation shafts and deflector
shields typical of pre-Columbian subterranean struc-
tures in the region are incorporated into several different
furnace designs (Fig. 3). Such syncretism suggests a
process by which Puebloan knowledge as well as labor
were incorporated within the introduced technology.
Slag and metal recovered from Mission San Pedro
suggests wide variation in the technology producing
materials reflecting temperature and atmospheric con-
ditions of the smelt. Though copper appears to be the
primary metal produced, in some high temperature
smelts, large amounts of iron were cosmelted from the
gossan2 ores producing a copper–iron alloy (Figs. 4,
5a, b, and 6). Lower temperature smelts were conducted
as well, producing a copper metal with copper sulfide
inclusions (Fig. 7). Both alloys have been found in
association with finished copper artifacts and copper
sheet scrap suggesting the inclusion of both alloys
within the overall production process of the facility
(Fig. 8).
The variation in smelting regimes may represent the
experimental and improvisational nature of the tech-
nology employed at the facility suggesting a process
by which practitioners developed techniques appropri-
ate for local materials. The development of extractive
metallurgy at Paa-ko employed both the knowledge of
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 3 Furnace feature exhibiting integration of
Puebloan and Spanish construction techniques. Photo by
Mark Lycett.
 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy 1653

Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish

Metallurgy. Fig. 4 Petrographic section in plain polarized
light of gossan containing malachite, cuprite, and banded iron
hydroxides. This is the main ore type found at the facility.
Magnification 100×. Photo by Noah Thomas.

high temperature and high reducing metallurgy tech-

nologies, such as those applied to iron smelting, as well
as knowledge of lower temperature processes more
appropriate for copper extraction.
The focus on copper production apparent from the
volume of copper slag and predominance of copper
artifacts and scrap recovered from the facility is unusual
given that the focus of Spanish colonial metallurgy in the
New World was on silver extraction. Copper production
as an industry in New Spain was relatively small and was
M
focused in West Mexico, under the technological control
of indigenous Tarascan smiths up until the turn of the
seventeenth century. Yet, copper played a significant
role in the global exchange of metals. The growth of the
copper industry in Europe can be directly tied to the
development of colonial exchange at the frontier of Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
colonial expansion. Central Europe became a center Metallurgy. Fig. 5 (a, b) SEM-BSE compositional image
and petrographic section in plain polarized light of slag from
for production in this system during the fifteenth and
the facility exhibiting high temperature quartz and iron
early sixteenth centuries, using copper left over from silicate minerals associated with temperatures in the range of
the Saigerprozess, the extraction of silver from copper 1,200–1,400°C. Photo by Noah Thomas.
metal with the addition of lead, to produce items for
trade such as copper and brass kettles, knives, and
ornaments. The evidence from Mission San Pedro may represent
A possibility that may explain the predominance of a participation within two colonial systems of value: one
copper metallurgy at Paa-ko may be the adaptation of centered on the production of silver and the generation
this global model to local silver ores and colonial of wealth within models of European commerce,
exchange relationships in the New Mexico colony. The and one centered on the colonial trade and exchange
materials recovered from the facility such as lead slag, relationships of frontier communities. The most com-
galena, and litharge fragments containing copper and mon form of manufactured copper in these samples is
lead prills,3 suggest that one of the technologies present sheet copper, occurring as both manufacturing debris
at the facility included a process of silver refining and finished artifacts (Fig. 10). Sheet copper commonly
utilizing cupellation, involving both lead and copper occurs in other mission assemblages, although there is
metal (Fig. 9). no evidence of copper production or its by-products
from most of these sites. Copper, as distinct from silver,
was a metal of relatively little value in the exchange
networks of colonial New Spain, but copper ornaments
3
A prill is the button of metal from an assay. were a novelty in colonial New Mexico, circulating in
1654 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 6 Metallographic section of copper–iron
alloy produced at the facility. Magnification 200×. Photo by
Noah Thomas.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 7 Metallographic section of the low
temperature product of relatively pure copper in association
with cuprite and charcoal. Magnification 50×. Photo by Noah
Thomas.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 8 Copper–iron alloy ingots from high
temperature smelt. Photo by Noah Thomas.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 9 Polished section in plain polarized light
of litharge recovered from the facility at Mission San Pedro
containing copper and lead metal. Magnification 100×. Photo
by Noah Thomas.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 10 Cache of copper sheet scrap and
finished artifacts recovered from the facility at Mission San
Pedro. Photo by Noah Thomas.
partially overlapping systems of value defined by both
colonizer and colonized. Metallurgical practices may
have been simultaneously understood as forms of com-
mercial production, disciplinary instruments of Spanish
church and state, and an idiom of Christian and indi-
genous identity formation through personal adornment.
Metal has been recovered from the seventeenth
century missions at the sites of Abo Mission and
Quarai, in the Salinas district, from San Marcos, San
Lazaro, and San Cristobal in the Galisteo Basins, and
from the Zuni site of Hawikuh and the Hopi site of
Awatovi. Much of the metal recovered from these sites
is poorly documented or is so sparse that it is
impossible to develop an overall sense of how metals
were used by the Pueblo population. The excavations at
Pecos Pueblo are an exception. Over 344 metal objects
were recovered from this excavation, providing for an
adequate data set in which to compare the information
gleaned from the historical documents.
 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy
The metal assemblage from Pecos is dominated by
copper sheet scrap both as sheet fragments and as rolls.
As Kidder notes, “more than half of the collection
consists of small, irregularly shaped scraps of thin sheet
metal, varying from the size of a fingernail to that of the
palm of one’s hand. Their edges are sometimes cut as
with a sharp instrument, sometimes roughly torn”
(Kidder 1932: 308). The high frequency of this material
suggests that copper metal was being worked by the
Pueblo inhabitants of this Mission. Kidder suggests that
the scrap represented the reduction of copper kettles
much like that which occurred in Northeastern Native
American historic sites. This may in fact be the case, as
the historical documents suggest that a large volume of
copper material was coming into the colony as copper
alloy vessels (see Note) (Fig. 11).
The frequencies of artifact types listed historically
and recovered archaeologically suggest a pattern of
Puebloan use of metal artifacts in the seventeenth
century that stresses clothing and adornment (Fig. 12).
In addition to this, the predominance of copper sheet
scrap suggests that European copper goods were
eventually highly modified to produce other artifacts
that perhaps were perceived to have a higher value.
At least eight of the 16 crosses recovered from Pecos
were made from sheet copper suggesting a relationship
between the working of copper sheet through the
reduction of domestic artifacts, and the production of
objects of adornment.
The emergence of novel forms of production in
colonial settings is an historical process marked by
experimentation, adaptation, and variation. Evidence of
this process at sites like Paa-ko (San Pedro) and Pecos
indicates involvement with European metallurgical
technologies included production of a variety of metals
through a variety of techniques, recycling of existing
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 11 Polished section of a reworked brass
sheet fragment recovered from the facility at Mission San
Pedro. Magnification 50×. Photo by Noah Thomas.
1655
materials, and the working or finishing of metals from
both sources. The participation of Puebloan communities
in Spanish metallurgy suggests that indigenous knowl-
edge, indigenous materials, and indigenous exchange
networks may be at least as important as indigenous labor
in the implementation of new technologies.
Extra 1: Pre-Colonial Metal Use in the Southwest
Despite the presence and time depth of metallurgical technology in
West Mexico, little evidence exists for the transference of techniques
of metallurgy to the US Southwest prior to Spanish colonization.
Trade in metal objects of West Mexican origin existed by the tenth
century, and possibly earlier, based on the presence of copper bells in
sites from Chaco Canyon, the Hohokam region of southern Arizona,
and the Mogollon mountain region. Trade in bells to the US Southwest
follows the chronological patterning of technological style of West
Mexican bell types. Based on this chronology, two phases have been
recognized by Vargas. Phase I consists of trade in non alloyed copper
bells 800–1250 AD, and Phase II consists of trade in stylistic forms
associated with alloyed copper bells from 1250–1520 AD. As Vargas
(1995) notes, this trade appears to have been highly restricted and/or
infrequent. In both phases distribution is centered on the Hohokam
region of southern Arizona. As of yet, no solid evidence exists for the
smelting of copper or the production of copper objects within the
region during the precolonial period.
Despite the fact that metallurgy appears not to have been
practiced, metal bearing minerals are prevalent within the region
and were extensively used prior to Spanish contact. Both copper and
lead bearing minerals were used as pigments, as objects of
adornment, and as components in the indigenous pyrotechnology
of lead glazed ceramics. The development of lead glaze in the
Puebloan world began in the fourteenth century and continued to be
practiced through the early colonial period up until the Pueblo revolt
M
of 1680.
Extra 2: Historical Data on the Introduction
of Metals and Metallurgy
The historical record suggests that a wide variety of metals came into
New Mexico with the initial colonization of the late sixteenth and
early seventeenth centuries. Iron, lead, and mercury were brought in
as raw materials for the mining industry and the production of tools
and lead shot. Other metals and alloys entered the colony as finished
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 12 Metal artifacts recovered from the
excavations at Pecos Pueblo. Artifacts listed by function.
1656 Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian adaptations of Spanish metallurgy
tools, religious articles and ornaments. Though iron was probably the
most predominant of metals imported, copper and copper alloys
appeared in large quantities primarily in the form of domestic items.
Tin, pewter, silver, and gilded items are mentioned both within the
inventory of items brought in the initial colonization of 1598 and in
the requested items of the mission supply caravan as well.
Excluding iron goods needed for horseshoeing, when comparing
the lists of items brought in the initial colonization with the mission
supply lists of the 1650s, the most prevalent metal items are tools
related to clothing and tailoring activities (Figs. 13 and 14). These
include items such as needles, thimbles, awls, pins and scissors. These
items were also the predominant trade good brought in the initial
colonization. Their high frequencies may be due to their ease of
transport, the low cost per quantity as an item of trade, and/or their
general perceived utility across ethnic boundaries.
The second most prevalent item by function is domestic
implements. This category most likely represents the largest category
outside of horseshoeing equipment in terms of volume and weight and
is dominated by copper alloy items. Copper kettles, boilers, ollas (a pot
or jar having a wide mouth), and comals (large flat griddles on which
tortillas are cooked) are mentioned specifically. In the mission supply
list of 1658, 37 and 20 pound bronze ollas and 25 pound copper kettles
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 13 Metal items listed in the Salazar
inspection of the Oñate colonizing force of 1597. Items
grouped by function.
Metallurgy: Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy. Fig. 14 Metal items listed in the mission supply
list of 1,658. Items grouped by function.
are requested. These probably refer to both European and Mexican
manufactured items. Brass and bronze alloys were most likely
produced in Europe, while copper vessels may have been produced in
traditional copper working communities in West Mexico. Much of the
copper produced in New Spain in the sixteenth century was done so
within these communities.
In the colony of New Mexico, as a remote and isolated enclave,
access to European and West Mexican goods and smithing expertise
was limited, yet maintenance of metal goods must have been a
concern and required individuals with requisite experience. The
inventory of tools for the forging and smelting of metals brought in
the initial colonization suggests that this knowledge and expertise
resided primarily with individuals in the mining industry. Though
mission centers were established as institutions for the socialization
of Native American individuals, mission supply lists do not carry
requests for metallurgical tool kits. Therefore it is more probable that
the transference of the technology, at least in the initial colonization
of the seventeenth century, occurred through the mining industry
among coerced Native American laborers.
See also: ▶Indigenous American Knowledge Systems
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Metallurgy in Southern South America
C OLIN A. C OOKE , M ARK B. A BBOTT,
A LEXANDER P. W OLFE
The Andes represent the largest source of mineral wealth
in the Americas and the birthplace of New World
metallurgy. Metallurgical exploitation of these resources
occurred for millennia prior to colonial contact, as
testified by numerous artifacts of gold, silver, and bronze.
Prior to the arrival of Spanish conquistadors in 1532 AD,
indigenous South Americans smelted silver ores, ham-
mered gold sheets, and annealed copper alloy sheets,
independently of technologies that, by then, were highly
developed in the Old World. Despite this extensive
history, we know astonishingly little about the develop-
ment of metallurgical techniques through time.
Today we learn about ancient metallurgy primarily
through three sources of information. The first is the
collection and analysis of artifacts recovered from
archaeological excavations. However, looting of ar-
chaeological sites is pervasive and as a result the
archaeological record is incomplete (Jones and King
2002). This means that the archaeologist often works
with either a small fraction of the original material, or
with artifacts that have been removed from their original
context. Moreover, looters frequently “restored” looted
artifacts, severely limiting what information can be
drawn from their appearance (Shimada and Griffin
2005). The second source of information comes from
historical and ethnographical data collected at the time
of conquest. For recordkeeping purposes, Spanish
conquistadors documented the looting of Inca palaces
and exploitation of Inca mines (Lechtman 1976). Useful
as these archives are, they tell us little about those
peoples who preceded the Inca. Moreover, the Spanish
were primarily concerned with the acquisition of gold
and to a lesser extent silver. They make little mention of

copper and copper alloys, even though these represent
the foundation of Andean metallurgy. The third method
is that of archaeometry. Archaeometry is the applica-
tion of scientific methods to archaeological sites or
artifacts. In the Andes, the most common archaeometric
analysis employed is a compositional chemical analysis
(Lechtman 1999, 2002). Recently, scientists have also
utilized geochemical analysis of lake sediments to track
atmospheric pollution from smelting. This method was
used to establish the onset of smelting at the town of
Potosí in the highlands of southern Bolivia (Abbott and
Wolfe 2003). This method provides an independent
record of the timing and intensity of smelting for the
region. However, as with the previous approaches, it has
its limitations. It cannot answer which group specifically
was smelting or how it was used or valued by ancient
South Americans, and is restricted to regions, which
contain continuous sedimentary environments suitable
for analysis (i.e., lakes, swamps, bogs, etc.). Despite the
limitations of each of these methods, by studying them
in concert, it has become apparent that indigenous South
Americans possessed extensive knowledge in acquiring
metals from various ores and also in combining and
working metals into elaborate artifacts. Here, we review
the major findings related to the procurement and
smelting of nonferrous ore bodies in the southern Andes
and the manufacture and use of various alloys as tools
and objects of adornment within indigenous South
American culture.
Smelting
Nonferrous metal ores have been smelted in South
America for approximately 2,500 years. The earliest
evidence to date for smelting activity in southern South
America comes in the form of copper slag from the
Wankarani site in the highlands of Bolivia dating
between 900 and 700 BCE (Ponce 1970). Slag, also
known in the Andes as scoria, is the waste or by-product
of smelting. Often this is all that remains for the
archaeologist to find as an indication of metallurgical
activity (Van Buren 2005). Very little research has been
conducted on the metallurgy at Wankarani and to date
little is known about what type of metal artifacts were
being produced and how the control of metal resources
was governed.
To the southwest, additional evidence for early
smelting comes from recent research at the Ramaditas
site in the Guatacondo Valley of northern Chile
(Graffam 1994, 1996). Here, excavations have revealed
evidence that copper smelting and sheet metal working
(repoussé) began near the first century BCE. This
finding confirmed that not only does metallurgy date
back in excess of 2,000 years in northern Chile, but
that this activity was often carried out independent of
the presence of a large formalized state or Empire
Metallurgy in southern South America 1659
(Graffam 1994, 1996). Northern Chile contains abun-
dant ores of copper and the exceptionally arid envi-
ronment allows excellent preservation of artifacts. This
makes Chile an ideal locality to conduct future metal-
lurgical research.
On the altiplano of southern Bolivia, a silver deposit
known as Cerro Rico de Potosí was once the world’s
richest silver mine. Legend attributes the discovery of
silver at Potosí to the penultimate Inca ruler, Huayna
Capac, in the mid-fifteenth Century AD. However, this
date was recently challenged by the discovery of much
earlier metal pollution in a nearby lake that can only be
explained by local smelting activity (Abbott and Wolfe
2003). During smelting, trace metals are released into
the atmosphere and are subsequently deposited into the
lake environment through precipitation and dry atmo-
spheric deposition. As soils, algae, and sediments
accumulate at the bottom of the lake, they preserve
these atmospherically derived metals. Natural archives,
i.e., lake sediments, are sensitive enough to pick up
even preindustrial emissions (see Renberg et al. 1994).
Lake sediment cores (tubes of sediment recovered
vertically from the bottom of a lake) were collected
from a high alpine lake downwind of Cerro Rico de
Potosí. Geochemical analysis of the sediments revealed
a long history of smelting activity beginning shortly
after 1000 AD, 400 years prior to the supposed
discovery of silver! The use of this method to track
metallurgical activity has only just begun and research
M
is currently underway to understand the chronology of
smelting throughout the Andes.
The final source of information on indigenous
smelting at Potosí comes from a combination of
historical archives and ethnoarchaeological research.
Given its richness, Potosí was the central focus of
colonial mining for years after conquest. As a result of
this attention, a written chronicle of smelting techni-
ques in use at Potosí exists. For example, between 1545
and 1572 AD, Inca silversmiths under colonial rule
using indigenous furnaces conducted all silver produc-
tion. Three different types of furnaces were recorded
by the Spanish during this time as they worked Potosí
and the nearby mine of Porco. The first type of furnace
was simply a pit dug into the ground that reduced
ores rich in silver. The second type was a small,
and sometimes portable, reduction furnace called a
huayara. These charcoal-fired, wind-drafted furnaces
were lined with clay and were often placed on
mountaintops to take advantage of strong winds. As
such, they were prone to destruction by any number of
natural forces (e.g. landslides, earthquakes) and to date
none have been recognized in the archaeological
record. Recently, however, a huayara has been found
still in use today in Bolivia (Van Buren 2005). This is
an important discovery, which promises to contribute a
great deal toward the understanding of ancient smelting
1660 Metallurgy in southern South America
techniques and their remains in the archaeological
record. The third type of furnace was a tocochimpu,
which was normally used to refine silver in combina-
tion with argentiferous galena or soroche (lead
sulphide). Cieza de León was one of the first Spanish
chroniclers to describe the use of soroche at Potosí and
documented its use as a flux to enable extraction of
silver from even low-grade ores. Future research
combining historical archives, archaeological and
ethnoarchaeological research is sure to illuminate
lingering questions regarding the spatial and temporal
homogeneity of smelting technology in the southern
Andes.
Despite these advances in the smelting of ores, direct
analysis of the metal artifacts themselves is the most
common analytical approach. The most frequent analysis
performed is that of a compositional analysis which
determines the relative proportions of the metals which
make up an artifact. This has shown that the vast majority
of Andean artifacts are composed of alloys. Alloys, rather
than pure metals, are pervasive in both Old and New
World metallurgy for three reasons. First, occurrences of
pure copper, silver, and gold do not commonly occur in
any large quantity. Second, alloys have the benefit of
often being harder than objects made of native metal, as is
the case with silver and gold (Lechtman 1996). Third, by
combining one or more metals, the melting temperature
of those metals is lowered, which facilitates the smelting
of ores. This is important as all pre-Columbian metallurgy
was done without the use of bellows and had to rely on
natural drafts to aerate furnaces.
The most common alloys found in southern South
America have been those of arsenic–copper (arsenic
bronze), tin–copper (tin bronze) and ternary alloys of
copper, arsenic and nickel. There is also evidence that
the Inca alloyed bismuth in bronzes recovered from
the site of Machu Picchu (Gordon and Rutledge
1984). Alloys composed of copper–gold (a binary
alloy sometimes referred to as tumbaga) and copper–
silver–gold (a ternary alloy) have also been found,
though not in the same quantity as copper alloys (King
2000). The precious metal artifacts that are found
normally occur as items of personal adornment (e.g.,
discs, bracelets, rings, and pendants) associated with
individuals of high social status, and as religious or
ceremonial items (Olsen Bruhns 1994). Because of
the extensive looting which has taken place in Peru,
both recently and during colonial times, few precious
metals remain and our understanding of them remains
comparatively sparse. Here we focus our discussion on
the appearance and distribution of copper alloys as they
represent the backbone of Andean metallurgy. We then
highlight two examples in which indigenous South
Americans altered the appearance of copper-gold and
copper-silver alloys to give them the appearance of
precious metal.
Bronze Alloys
Arsenic bronze was the earliest alloy to be utilized in
both northwest Argentina and southern Peru. In
northwest Argentina, arsenic bronze was in use by 400
AD and its use continued until colonial conquest. This
bronze alloy was used both for tools (axes, chisels, and
wedges) and finer domestic items (awls, needles,
bracelets, and tweezers) (González 1979; Fester 1962).
In southern Peru the earliest evidence for arsenic bronze
metallurgy occurs at the site of Pikillacta in the Lucre
Valley circa 600 AD (Lechtman 1997). This occurs
during the influence of the pre-Inca Empire known as the
Wari, which controlled the area from approximately 600
to 1000 AD (McEwan 2005). These arsenic bronze
artifacts are normally represented by domestic items or
tools (Lechtman 1997). Naturally occurring alloys
of copper and arsenic are readily available in the
high Andes of central/southern Peru and would have
been accessible to native South Americans. Therefore,
arsenic bronze metallurgy characterized the time period
between 400 and 1000 AD in southern Peru and
northwest Argentina.
In contrast, in Bolivia there is a paucity of both natural
alloys and artifacts made of arsenic bronze. Rather,
tin bronze and copper–arsenic–nickel alloys seem to
have been the metals utilized. The earliest occurrence of
this alloy in Bolivia is found on the Bolivian altiplano
around 600 AD (Lechtman 2002). Tin bronze was
favored for ornamental rings, while copper–arsenic–
nickel appears to have been preferred for needles, nails,
and chisels (Lechtman 2002). The tin for tin bronze
appears to have been obtained from the rich “tin belt” of
the altiplano, where it primarily occurs in the mineral
cassiterite (tin oxide). No source has yet been found for
the copper–arsenic–nickel alloys. Therefore, tin-based
bronze metallurgy in northern Bolivia appears to have
begun around 600 AD. This is broadly contemporaneous
with the widespread use of arsenic bronze metallurgy in
nearby southern Peru and northwest Argentina. Future
research is needed to understand what, if any, interaction
was occurring between Bolivia and southern Peru at this
time of florescence of the copper industry.
Traveling north and forward 200 years to 800 AD, the
site of Batán Grande represents early arsenic bronze
metallurgy along the north coast of Peru. Previously
undocumented in the New World, Batán Grande is a
prehistoric metallurgical center situated in the La Leche
Valley (Shimada et al. 1982, 1983). Smelting here began
circa 800 AD and continued until just prior to the
Spanish conquest. Though small quantities of copper
ore are locally available, arsenic bearing minerals are
not. However, the highlands of northern Peru are rich in
arsenic bearing minerals; this fact has led Lechtman
(1991) to argue that highland miners might have
provided coastal smelters with the necessary arsenic.

The mechanism for this highland-coastal exchange, be it
social, economic, or otherwise, has yet to be adequately
explained.
Batán Grande was also the site of a large-scale
cosmelting operation heretofore undocumented (Lecht-
man 1999). During cosmelting, a mix of both the
sulfides (the primary ore minerals) and oxides (the
secondary or the weathered alteration product of
sulfides) were charged into the furnace. This mixing
need not be deliberate and yielded clean, coherent
copper–arsenic alloy ingots (Lechtman and Klein
1999). Cosmelting represents a dramatic improvement
in smelting operations while eliminating noxious
arsenic fumes that might otherwise have been generated.
Moving forward to the mid-fifteenth century AD, the
Inca Empire implemented the use of tin bronze for
domestic and household metal items throughout Peru,
Bolivia, northwest Argentina, and northern Chile. This
widespread occurrence of tin bronze associated with the
Inca Empire has been dubbed the so-called “Tin Horizon”
(Costin 1989; Lechtman 1996; Lechtman and Klein
1999; Owen 1986). The tin would have been prepared as
sheet stock and then could be dissipated through the
Empire where it was added to local alloys of arsenic
bronze or simply added to local copper to form tin bronze
(Cositn 1989; Lechtman 1976). Adding tin to existing
bronze technology improves the workability of the
metal and increases the hardness of the finished product
(Costin et al. 1989). The Inca represent the culmination of
metallurgical development in native South American
history until the conquest of the Spanish in 1532.
In summary, two loci of bronze based metallurgy can
be distinguished for the southern Andes. This appears
to be a direct result of differences in local resources
(arsenic-copper deposits in southern Peru and north-
west Argentina versus tin–copper deposits in northern
Bolivia). The situation changes with the establishment
of the Inca Empire, after which tin bronze becomes the
domestic metal of choice throughout the Andes.
Precious Metals
Although artifacts made of bronze alloys are the most
commonly found during archaeological excavation,
gold and silver remained the most prized metals during
Inca and pre-Inca times as well (Costin et al. 1989). For
the Inca, gold was endowed with spiritual and symbolic
meaning and was believed to be the rain of the sun,
while silver was the rain of the moon (Jones and King
2002). However, artifacts composed purely of silver or
gold are extremely rare. Considerably more common
are alloys containing a mixture of copper and gold or
silver. After the Spanish conquistadors took control of
Peru, they began to melt down what they believed to be
golden objects. To their surprise, they discovered that
these “golden objects” were in fact composed of copper
Metallurgy in southern South America 1661
alloys and had only very thin surfaces of gold. This was
because locally available resources, combined with
sophisticated alloying techniques were used to produce
golden surfaces on alloys containing small percentages
of precious metals (Lechtman et al. 1982).
Experimental archaeology has been especially im-
portant here in determining how Andean cultures
manipulated alloys to accentuate desired qualities.
Two of the best examples of native abilities were the
processes of electrochemical replacement plating and
depletion gilding. In electrochemical replacement a
copper alloy is given an extremely thin and even surface
coating of sliver or gold. To accomplish this, silver and
gold were dissolved in an acidic or corrosive solution
(Lechtman et al. 1982). A copper artifact was dipped
into this solution, and a chemical reaction would occur
that resulted in a very thin and even “plate” or surface
coating of silver or gold. In addition, the specific color of
the object could be altered simply by varying the relative
amount of silver or gold in solution (Lechtman et al.
1982). Depletion gilding was used on alloys of copper-
silver-gold. Here, naturally-occurring chemicals are
used to separate the gold from the silver, leaving a
surface of the desired precious metal. These are just two
of the techniques in which native South Americans
manipulated the appearance of metal artifacts in order to
achieve a surface of silver or gold. These technologies
appear to have been developed by the Moche (100 to
800 AD) on the north coast of Peru and remained a M
northern phenomenon until the rise of the Inca Empire in
the mid-fifteenth century. At this time the Inca Empire
relocated the northern metallurgists to Cuzco to serve at
the Inca capital. Further research is needed to document
fully the full range of both Inca and pre-Inca alloying
techniques.
In short, a wide variety of metallurgical techniques
were used by Andean cultures, and considerable skill
was demonstrated in the manipulation of nonferrous
ores. By integrating the fields of archaeology, ethno-
history, and geology a great deal can still be learned
about these cultures’ use of metals.
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Meteorology in China
LI DI
Chinese meteorology, here referring to the traditional
meteorology which was used in China, has many unique
characteristics. Although China began to adopt Western
meteorological knowledge as it was introduced in the
seventeenth century, Chinese traditional meteorology
lasted 250 years. Chinese meteorology can be described
from four aspects.
Knowledge About Meteorological Phenomena
The Chinese recognized some meteorological phenome-
na 3,000 years ago. In the inscriptions on borns or tortoise
shells of the Shang Dynasty (ca. sixteenth to eleventh
century BCE), there were some words meaning rain,
frost, snow, thunder, lightning, rainbow, etc. The Chinese
identified the relationship between the rain and rainbow;

they knew if there was a rainbow in the western sky in
the morning, it would rain soon. The Book of Songs
declared, “White dew is frost.” In this case, frost must
have been frozen dew. Two thousand years ago, the
Chinese also recognized the six segments of a snowflake.
Wang Chong (AD 27–97) was one of the first to
record meteorological phenomena. He said that the rain
came from the ground, not from the sky, meaning that
the rain came from the vapor rising from the ground.
He also said that clouds and fog are omens of rain, there
is dew in the summer but frost in the winter, and rain
when it is hot but snow when cold. He understood that
rain, dew, frost, and snow were formed of vapor from
the ground at different temperatures.
The ancient Chinese had exact knowledge about
rainbows, too. Kong Yingda (AD 574–648) who
lived in the early time of the Tang Dynasty, pointed
out that the rainbow was created by the sun’s shining on
the waterdrops. Sun Wanxian and Shen Guo (AD 1030–
1094), who lived in the Northern Song Dynasty, studied
the rainbow too, and agreed with Kong Yingda. Sun
Yanxian said that the rainbow was the reflection of the
sun in the rain, created when the sun shines on the rain.
They also had a good deal of knowledge about
the wind and the clouds. In the fourth century, it
was recognized that the trade wind had 24 fans. Li
Chunfeng (seventh century) recorded the wind as
having 10 grades according to its strength and 24 types
according to its direction. Shen Guo once recorded a
land tornado in his book. “There is a tornado coming
from the south-east in Enzhou and Wucheng. It looked
like a huge sheep horn, and carried all the big
trees. Quickly it disappeared in the sky.” Sima Qian
(b. 145 BCE) divided clouds into three types according
to their height from the ground. Eighteen pictures of
clouds were drawn in the fourteenth century according
to weather conditions. Later the number reached 32.
Weather Forecasting
Many methods of weather forecasting were used in
ancient China. The first is forecasting according to
the air humidity. In the second century, the Chinese
recognized the relationship between the sound of a
musical instrument and the weather. Later, Wang Chong
pointed out that it would rain as the strings of a zheng (an
instrument in some ways similar to the zither) became
slack. No later than the eighth century the Chinese
recognized that many waterdrops appearing on a solid
body with good heat-conductivity, or high temperature
and great humidity, were all omens of the rain.
The second method is forecasting the weather
according to optical phenomena such as rainbows, rosy
clouds, and halos. Some records written in the nineteenth
century proved that the natives of Fuzhou could predict a
heavy rain and a great wind, even a typhoon on the sea,
Meteorology in China 1663
according to the position and height of the rainbow. In the
eleventh century, Kong Pingzhong pointed out that the
morning glow is the omen of a rain, while the evening
glow is the omen of a sunny day. Lou Yuanli, who lived in
the Yuan Dynasty, stated that the solar halo was the omen
of a rain, and the lunar halo of a wind. He also pointed out
that the direction of a wind was the direction of the gap of
the lunar halo.
The third method is forecasting according to the
movement and patterns of clouds and fog. Clouds and
fog are the bases of some weather phenomena such as
rain and snow, so their height, patterns, and direction can
be used to forecast the weather. Since the Tang Dynasty,
there have been many such forecasts. Huang Zifa, who
lived in the Tang Dynasty, once forecasted, “if there is
some cloud moving against the wind, it will rain.”
The fourth method is the forecast according to
sounds and lightning. There were many weather-related
proverbs in ancient China. “If there is lightning in the
southern sky, it will rain; if in the northern sky, it will
not.” (Lou Yuanli). “If the lightning is irregular, it
will rain hard.” “No rain, but thunder, go by boat, come
by feet,” meaning it would not rain for some days.
The fifth method is according to the activities of
animals. Some animals are sensitive to weather changes.
The ancient Chinese could forecast the weather accord-
ing to their activities. Wang Chong said, “If it is going
to rain, ants migrate, earthworms come from their holes.”
There was a proverb in the Tang Dynasty that said that
M
if ants blocked up their holes, it would rain. Also ancient
Chinese recognized that if birds’ wings moved hard as
they fly, it would rain.
Meteorological Survey and Instruments
The ancient Chinese conducted many meteorological
surveys and invented many surveying instruments.
Wind and Surveying Instruments
Two thousand years ago, the Chinese used a surveying
flag and Xiangfeng bird to judge the direction of the
wind. A Xiangfeng bird was made of copper slices
fixed on the top of a high pole. It could be revolved by
the wind, and its head was always along the direction
of the wind. At first, Xiangfeng birds were used
in meteorological observatories; later they were used
in the government and private houses. Even now,
some Xiangfeng birds can be found on the tops of
some towers. Li Chunfeng recorded the method to
measure the direction and speed of the wind using a
chicken feather, i.e., to measure according to the moving
direction and dip angle of the feather. In 1716, the Qing
Government set up a meteorological network to survey
the direction of the wind using surveying flags, which
was the primary form of the modern meteorological
1664 Meteorology in India
network. However, the Chinese also began to use
western wind surveying instruments at that time.
Precipitation and the Chinese Precipitation Gauge
Because precipitation was very important to agricul-
ture and people’s lives, in the Eastern Han Dynasty
(AD 25–220) the court ordered that every noble
government should report precipitation in the period
from the beginning of the spring to the beginning of the
autumn. Qin Jiushao recorded a kind of precipitation
gauge – Tianchi Basin, which was widely used in 1247.
The Western precipitation gauge and distiller were
recorded in Chinese books of the eighteenth century.
Humidity and the Surveying Method
In the Western Han Dynasty, the Chinese invented a
method to measure the air humidity by hanging a lump
of earth and a bar of charcoal (or a feather). When the
air was dry, the bar of charcoal (or the feather) was
light; when the air was humid, it was heavy, but the
earth had little change in its weight. By hanging a lump
of earth and a bar of charcoal (or a feather) on the two
ends of a staff separately and fixing a lifting string on
the middle point, making the staff horizontal in the dry
air, a humidometer was made. When the air became
humid, the end which had the charcoal fell down.
Huang Lüzhuang (AD 1626–?) invented a humid-
ometer to indicate the air humidity by a moving needle.
Later, Ferdinand Verbist (AD 1623–1688), a Belgian
missionary, invented another one.
Atmospheric Temperature and Pressure
The Chinese paid much attention to atmospheric
temperature. Wang Chong once pointed out that the
atmospheric temperature changed during a day and
affected rain and snow directly. Until recent centuries,
the Chinese had not invented a thermograph. In
the nineteenth century, Zou Boqi (AD 1819–1869)
recorded a barometer for the first time.
Achievements in Phenology
Phenology is the process of discovering meteorological
laws by the regular activities of some animals and the
regular changes of some plants. The Chinese began their
study in phenology a long time ago; some records of
phenological phenomena written 3,000 years ago have
been found. In Xiaxiaozheng (Lesser Annuary of the
Xia Dynasty), there were some records of the turn of
the months. The knowledge of the 24 divisions of the
solar year in the traditional Chinese calendar was gained
in the Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 BCE) and
the Warring States Period (475–221 BCE). Every day
marking the 24 divisions has relationships with agricul-
tural activities. The Chinese usually arranged their
agricultural work and other activities according to the
24 divisions of the solar year.
There are many records of phenological phenomena
written during the period of the Western Han Dynasty to
the Song and Yuan Dynasties (ca. second century BCE
to fourteenth century AD). Lu Zuqian (AD 1137–1181),
who lived in Northern Song Dynasty, observed the
phenological phenomena in Jinhua, Zhejiang province
for 19 months and made many records, including the
blossoming of 24 kinds of flowers such as winter sweet,
peach, plum, lotus, and chrysanthemum, and the first
appearance of the spring warblers and the autumn insects.
No later than the Spring and Autumn Period the
Chinese recognized that migrants’ activities changed
with the seasons. Shen Guo recorded in his book that
the natives of Hebei called the frost “information frost,”
because they knew there would be a frost when the wild
white geese came.
There are many Chinese records of meteorological
phenomena, and they are still used today.
See also: ▶Shen Guo, ▶Li Chunfeng, ▶Qin Jiushao,
▶Wang Chong, ▶Surveying
References
Di. Li Color Dispersion as Understood in Ancient China.
Wuli (Physics) 5.3 (1976): 161–4 (in Chinese).
---. The Investigations of Meteorological Phenomena by Shen
Kuo. Scientia Atmospherica Sinica 2 (1977): 159–61 (in
Chinese).
---. On the Invention of Meteorological Instruments in
Ancient China. Scientia Atmospherica Sinica 2.1 (1978):
85–8 (in Chinese).
---. New Source Materials for Meteorological Instruments,
Science and Technology in Chinese Civilization. Singa-
pore: World Scientific Publishing, 1987. 199–210.
Wang Jinguang and Hong Zhenhuan. The Method to Measure
Air Humidity in Ancient China. The Collection of Papers
on the History of Science 9 (1966): 20–3 (in Chinese).
Meteorology in India
A. S. R AMANATHAN
From the beginning, people tried to understand their
surroundings and make use of their beneficial aspects.
Their first action in this direction was to produce food,
making use of the available water in the rivers and
rainfall in the region. Though initially extreme pheno-
mena like heavy rains, winds, cold and hot spells,
droughts, and floods appeared incomprehensible and
hostile, early humans gradually sorted out their seasonal
character and planned their agricultural operations
accordingly. Thus began in a crude way the develop-
ment of weather science all over the world.

In India, the development of this science commenced
in the early R.gvedic period. That the heat of the sun
lifts the water to the atmosphere which after some time
comes down as rain was recognized by the Vedic seers
at a very early stage. In order to explain the occurrence
of rain during a restricted period of about 2 months in
their region in extreme northwest India, they imagined
that water was absorbed by the sun’s rays in the vast
ocean areas in the south during the winter season and
the humid air carried northward by the sun’s rays.
When the sun attains its extreme northward position
and starts retracing its path, the humid air gets deflected
near the foot of the Himalayas and brings rain from
the east to their region. These moist easterlies replace
the westerlies that were present in the region before the
arrival of the monsoon rains. Whenever there was
drought, they performed rituals to invoke the rain god.
They believed that in nature there is a feed of a
substance called soma from above into the atmosphere,
which aids the occurrence of rainfall. Therefore they
fed into the ritual fire some substances like wild dates
and some special types of grass which produced smoke
and were believed to be effective in aiding rainfall.
The post-Vedic scholars developed the subject
further, mainly working on the pregnancy concept of
rainfall. They looked for symptoms in the winter season
for the commencement of pregnancy and identified
the characteristics of winter disturbances in their region
as indicating the same. Working along these lines, they
were able to observe weather very carefully during the
premonsoon months and were able to define the course
of events which go toward the nourishment of rain
embryos and the delivery of good summer rainfall at the
right time after 195 days. Any departure from the
defined meteorological conditions during the growth
period, such as too much rainfall or snowfall, unfavor-
able winds, and temperature, was said to affect the
quantity of rainfall delivered during the rainfall period.
They also believed that hail would occur if the rain
fetuses stayed too long in the atmosphere. The moon’s
position with respect to the sun and the stars was
believed to influence the formation of rain embryos.
The moon was conceived as a replica of soma in the
heavens, and soma was capable of fertilizing the
atmosphere.
Based on such concepts and extensive observations,
the post-Vedic scholars developed several rules of
long range rainfall forecasting. If they were successful,
it was certainly due to their capacity to observe day-to-
day weather and individual weather elements, like
clouds, temperature conditions, wind, rain, lightning,
and thunder. They were extremely clever in mentally
working out correlations based on observed data.
For short- and medium-range forecasting they framed
many rules of thumb based on winds, clouds, tem-
perature, lightning, thunder, moisture in the atmosphere,
Meteorology in India 1665
behavior of people, animals, birds, snakes, worms,
insects, trees, and plants, as well as visual impressions
of the sun, moon, stars, and sky. They were so thorough
with local weather that their capacity to forecast in the
short- and medium-range was as high as that of any
modern forecaster who does the same with sophisticated
equipment and maps.
Measurement of rainfall in India dates back to the
fourth century BCE. A standard rain gauge was con-
structed around the third century BCE, and this system
of measurement was prevalent in North India for a very
long time (third century BCE to sixth century AD).
Well before the birth of Christ, the Arab dhows
sailed across the Indian Ocean for trade purposes.
Hippalus, a Greek pilot of the first century, sailed
across the Arabian Sea for the first time. A handbook
for merchants called Periplus was written by a Greek
around AD 50. Subsequently, Arab geographers wrote
many books giving details of Indian Ocean voyages.
Sidi Ali’s Mohit, written around AD 1554, not only
gives a map of the Indian Ocean area, but also mentions
the occurrence of monsoons at 50 distinct places.
With the arrival of more voyagers from the west in
the Indian Ocean, a steady effort for systematically
observing the wind, weather, and weather systems of
the Indian Ocean commenced. In his first voyage from
Melinda to Calicut in 1499, Vasco da Gama made use
of the monsoon winds and reached his destination
in just 3 weeks. William Dampier published many
M
observations of Indian Ocean weather and weather
systems in his travel accounts. He was a sixteenth-
century buccaneer who lived and worked with some of
the rowdiest pirates in history. But he was also an astute
observer of nature in general and weather in particular.
In his Discourse on Winds and Breezes, Storms and
Currents, he deals with general wind systems through-
out the world and their seasonal changes, which include
the Southeast trades of the South Indian Ocean and
Northeast and Southwest monsoons of the North Indian
Ocean. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centu-
ries, the military and trade activities of the European
powers in the Indian Ocean waters increased.
Matthew Maury in his Physical Geography of the
Seas (1874) explained the formation of monsoon winds
as resulting from the heat of the plains and deserts of
the Asian region. The following ideas about the
mechanism of the Southwest monsoon and its rainfall
were generally agreed upon by the meteorologists of
the nineteenth century.
The plains of North India get very hot during the
summer, and the air over that region ascends and
becomes light. As a result, air over the sea areas, where
the pressure is high both in the neighborhood of the
equator and south of it, moves toward the region of low
pressure of the land. The Southeast tradewinds, while
moving northward and crossing the equator, become
1666 Meteorology in the Islamic world
Southwest winds, owing to the rotation of the earth.
Again, these Southwest winds do not blow directly into
the region of low pressure, but go around it in an
anticlockwise direction. If one stands with one’s back
to the wind, the pressure to the left is lower than to
the right in the northern hemisphere. In the southern
hemisphere, the relation is reversed. The copious
precipitation of the west coast is due to the high
mountains which run along the coast. The higher the
mountains, the heavier the precipitation. The monsoon
is sustained by the latent heat released during the
precipitation, which adds more heat to the atmosphere,
and therefore further rarefaction takes place. Strong
winds blow into the region of heavy rainfall, since air
from the neighboring regions rushes to occupy the
space created by ascending air.
Meanwhile, more knowledge was added to the science
of cyclones in the Indian Ocean. Henry Piddington made
a monumental contribution to the science of storms. He
was the first to coin the term “cyclone”, which gained
world usage later. In a series of papers he gave detailed
accounts of many Indian Ocean cyclones. His bestseller
at that time was the Horn Book of Storms for the India and
China Seas, which was followed by another book called
Horn Book for the Law of Storms, in which he explained
the use of transparent horn cards provided in his book for
finding out the center of cyclones.
Many Indian meteorologists, led by Desai, Rao,
Koteswaram, and Majumdar, worked on various aspects
of the formation of cyclones. They investigated the role
of the upper tropospheric flow patterns in the intensifi-
cation, movement, and dissipation of tropical distur-
bances in the Indian Ocean. The availability of aircraft
winds and satellite pictures enabled the meteorologists,
such as Raman and Srinivasan, to study the low-level
convergence and associated winds around the calm eye
region of the cyclone, upper-level divergence, and the
relation of the direction of movement to the upper-level
winds. They also studied the influence of sea surface
temperature on the formation of the cyclone.
As regards the Southwest monsoon, the upper air
observations of wind and temperature and also the
newly formulated dynamical concepts enabled the
meteorologists to understand many synoptic aspects of
the monsoon. Many meteorologists studied the role of
the easterly jet stream and the Tibetan high, the
northward shift of the westerly jet stream, the advance
of the intertropical convergence zone to northern India,
and the extension of equatorial westerlies. Koteswaram
and Flohn (1960) made important contributions in this
field.
Today meteorology in India is a highly developed
subject, both from the research and service point of
view.
See also: ▶Navigation
References
Blanford, H. F. Climates and Weather of India, Ceylon and
Burma. New York: Macmillan Company, 1889.
Capper, J. Observations on the Winds and Monsoons.
London: Debrett, 1801.
Dampier, William. Voyages and Descriptions. London:
J. Knapton, 1699.
Das, P. K. The Monsoons. New Delhi: National Book Trust
India, 1988.
Maury, Matthew. Physical Geography of the Seas. New York:
Harper, 1861.
Piddington, H. Horn Book of Storms for the India and China
Seas. Calcutta: Bishop’s College Press, 1844.
---. Horn Book for the Law of Storms. New York: Wiley,
1848.
Ramage, L. S. Monsoon Meteorology. New York: Academy
Press, 1971.
Ramanathan, A. S. Weather Science in Ancient India, I–VIII.
Indian Journal of History of Science 21.1 (1986): 7–21;
22.1 (1987): 1–14; 22.3 (1987): 175–97 and 198–204;
22.4 (1987): 277–85.
Simpson, G. C. The South West Monsoon. Quarterly Journal
of the Royal Meteorological Society of London 47.199
(1921): 151–72.
Walker, G. T. On the Meteorological Evidence for Supposed
Changes of Climate in India. Memoires of the Indian
Meteorological Department 21 (1910): 1–22.
---. Correlation in Seasonal Variation of Weather. Memoires
of the Indian Meteorological Department 24 (1924):
275–332.
Meteorology in the Islamic World
W ILLIAM J. M CPEAK
Medieval Islamic conceptions of nature and physical
phenomena were partially based upon a translated
accumulation of Greek thought. Among the Greek
philosophers who had conjectured upon the phenome-
na of the atmosphere, the most famous was Aristotle
(384–322 BCE), whose geoscience treatise in four
books called Meteorologica dealt not only with atmo-
spheric phenomena but also with the general terrestrial
aspect (including geological, hydrological, and oceano-
graphical ideas) of his systematic cosmology.
Some of the questions pondered were meteorological:
whether the Milky Way and comets were of terrestrial or
celestial origin, hail forming theories, the origin of wind,
the relation of thunder and lightning, and optical theories
of the rainbow and the halo.
With the ninth century came a stabilization of the long
political turmoil after the Islamic conquests. Also, with
the rise of the Abbasid Caliphate at Persian Baghdad,
that civilization and India significantly influenced the
seminal culture of the new Islamic empire. With
the founding of a translation center within Caliph

al-Ma˒mūn’s (813–833) Bayt al-H . ikma (House of
Wisdom) at Baghdad, the next three quarters of a
century would be very important for Islamic thought.
The Meteorologica would have been included among
the Aristotelian translations. Evidently the first transla-
tion of the work into Arabic from the original Greek or
Syriac of about 820 was that by the Jewish Arabic
scholar Yah.yā ibn-al-Bit.rīq (fl. ca. 820). Abū Nas.r
al-Fārābī (ca. 870–950) had, following the Persian
mathematician al-Kindī (ca. 801–ca. 866), adopted the
Aristotelian classification of knowledge with study of
nature under physics. In addition, the general scheme
of Islamic knowledge defined philosophical science
with seven subdisciplines of natural sciences, with
meteorology as one of those. Though virtually lost,
al-Fārābī’s many large commentaries on Plato and
Aristotle included the Meteorologica in his Kitāb Ih.s.ā˒
al-˓ulūm. But he only discussed the traditional concep-
tion of the four elements of matter – earth, air, fire, and
water – in noting the contents of the work.
Four particularly outstanding Islamic thinkers accen-
tuate the tenth through the twelfth centuries. The great
Afghani polymathic scholar Abū Rayh.ān al-Bīrūnī
(973–1048) wrote copiously, though again many works
are known only by name. A rare linguist, who knew
not only Arabic and Persian but also Turkish, Sanskrit,
Hebrew, and Syriac, he steered clear of formal
Aristotelian commentary, showing an observationally
rich interest in the geosciences. His Tah.dīd Nihāyāt
al-amākin li-tas.h.īh. masāfāt al-masākin (Determination
of the Coordinates of Cities) discussed fossils, physical
geology, geography, and the ancient geodetic problem
of finding the circumference of the earth. His Kitāb
al-tafhīm li-awā˒il s.inā ˓at al-tanjīm (The Book of
Instruction in the Art of Astrology) also contained much
on the sublunar world, including weather and climate
over the known globe. Of the more conventional
meteorological fare, he accepted basic ancient atmo-
spheric ideas, including a variant view of the Milky
Way as atmospheric smoky vapors screening the stars.
The three most recognizable Islamic contributors to
meteorology were: the Alexandrian mathematician/
astronomer Ibn al-Haytham (Alhazen 965–1039), the
Arab-speaking Persian physician Ibn Sīnā (Avicenna
980–1037), and the Spanish Moorish physician/jurist
Ibn Rushd (Averröes 1126–1198).
The commentaries of these great philosophers re-
flected the high end of Arabic evolution toward the
dictates of observation based on the logic of both critical
deductive and inductive reasoning. Ibn al-Haytham,
particularly noted for his seminal experimentally based
inductive reasoning, was the first outstanding medieval
Arabic theorist of physical optics with important
applications to meteorological phenomena. His prolific
output included some 20 science treatises, including his
great optical treatise Kitāb al-manāz.ir (Book of Optics).
Meteorology in the Islamic world 1667
Among the optical discussions, the treatise contained
his extensive experiments and findings on reflection
and refraction, and his experiments on the rainbow
mechanism, a phenomenon all the vogue as a physical
problem in the Middle Ages. His rainbow findings
were also reported in his Qaws quzah. wa’l-h.āla
(On the Rainbow and the Halo), a work not in the
Optics nor available other than as a manuscript. Ibn
al-Haytham’s innovative experimental method entailed
a laboratory to study the phenomena of the earth,
such as chemical compounds, as well as his optical
studies. Aristotle had considered the rainbow a
reflection phenomenon from clouds of uniform drops
acting as a continuum surface like a convex mirror.
Ibn al-Haytham, researching reflection of light from
plane and curved mirrors, reasoned that the phenome-
non was a case of reflection similar to a spherical
concave mirror. He simulated the rainbow colors by
transmitting sunlight through glass spheres of water,
spherical concave mirrors representative of clouds,
with the cloud still acting as a continuum. Unfortunate-
ly, he also decided that refraction had nothing to do with
the phenomenon, considering the same mechanism
for the lunar halo and solar corona. He also employed
his ideas of reflection in dealing with a terrestrial
Milky Way in one of his treatises, al-Majarra (On
the Milky Way).
Ibn al-Haytham has been considered the first thinker
to realize the refractive, i.e., light bending properties,
M
of the atmosphere. The phenomenon had been con-
tinually hinted at since ancient times in the discrepan-
cies found in observing celestial objects because of
near horizon distortion of position and size. He wrote a
short treatise, Mas’ala fī Ikhtilāf al-naz.ar (A Question
Relating to Parallax). And, in his Fī ma˓rifat irtifā˓
al-ashkhās. al-qā˒ima wa-a˓ midat al-jibāl wa irtifā˓’
al-ghuyūm (Determination of the Height of Erect
Objects and the Altitudes of Mountains and of the
Height of Clouds), he was evidently the first medieval
thinker to use knowledge of refraction in theorizing by
a convoluted geometry that the atmosphere was much
lower than the ancients had estimated. His near
contemporary Cordoban Ibn Mu˓ādh (ca. 989–1079)
should also be mentioned in regard to atmospheric
height for his singular hypothesis in his treatise –
mistakenly attributed to Ibn al-Haytham – “On the
Dawn” (evidently known only by the Latin translation
by Gerard of Cremona Liber de crepusculis), also
called “On Twilight and the Rising of Clouds.”
Sunlight before sunrise and after sunset are also
phenomena of refraction, and Ibn Mu˓ādh estimated
the angle of depression or the sun at dawn and evening
twilights, arriving at the fairly accurate value of 18° by
which the height of atmospheric moisture (believed
responsible for twilights) and thus atmospheric height
could be determined.
1668 Meteorology in the Islamic world
Ibn Sīnā a and Ibn Rushd represented concerted
Arabic commentary as it moved from the eleventh to
the twelfth century. Though more noted for his varied
contributions to medicine, Ibn Sīnā contributed to
physical science in 20 volumes of general thought,
Kitāb al-h.ās.il. He also wrote on the seasons and
climate in the Kitāb al-Anwā˒ (Book of Meteorological
Qualities). Ibn Sīnā’s meteorological significance centers
on the rainbow mechanism and the medieval fascination
with the origin of the Milky Way. Departing from
Aristotle’s cloud continuum and Ibn al-Haytham’s
spherical mirror analogy, he reasoned that the rainbow
was the result of reflection from the total amalgamation
of water drops – this being the key discovered later –
supposedly released by clouds as they dissolved into
rain. His observational prowess is seen in his explana-
tion. The idea came to him by watching the diffraction
of sunlight by water drops created by the watering of a
garden in a bathhouse. He thought the Milky Way
celestial in origin, voicing yet one more assent to a
physical concept important to both meteorology and
astronomy as an eventual point of redefinition of the
ancient boundaries of celestial and terrestrial phenom-
ena. Yet, as with thinkers to follow and into the late
eighteenth century, the fact that the Milky Way was an
expanse of stars and not a by-product of those stars,
escaped him as well. Ibn Rushd also held a celestial
opinion of the Milky Way, one more both analytical and
worthy of further discussion.
Contrary to a later conception of Ibn Rushd as
slavishly Aristotelian, we can say that his jurist’s logic
followed the exact Aristotelian order of nature as a
model of systematic formulation. Ibn Rushd wrote both
short introductions and extended larger commentaries,
such as Al-at. ār al-˓alwiyya, which included textual
discussion, arguments about the opinions of other
commentators, and his own analysis.
The Milky Way was a more bothersome challenge.
Ibn Rushd decided that Aristotle’s theory was untena-
ble since it depended on the reality of hot and dry
exhalations which had not been proved. He also
reasoned by the phenomenon of parallax (the apparent
change in position of relatively close objects with
change in position or view of an observer) that if
the Milky Way were terrestrial (below the sphere of
the moon) and thus relatively close, it would have
a backdrop of different stars depending on where it
was observed. In proving this, Ibn Rushd spent time
observing and recording the positions of the Milky
Way with respect to the stars in the constellation of
Aquila from different locations. He found no change.
He also noted that because the Milky Way was a
constant phenomenon, whereas the exhalation was an
ever changing one, the Milky Way appeared to be in
the celestial sphere. But ultimately he kept the pheno-
menon terrestrial, calling it an atmospheric refracted
image of light from a conglomerate of small stars seen
from the perspective of earth.
Among later commentators was Abū’l-Faraj (Aboul-
farag d. 1286), the Nestorian bishop, who wrote a theory
in 1279 of the Milky Way phenomenon in relation
to fixed stars and constellations. He leaned toward
considering the Milky Way as wholly consisting of stars
and having nothing to do with terrestrial nature.
Islam’s commentary also turned to its first genera-
tion of philosophers. Optical interests seemed to die
with Ibn al-Haytham, until Qut.b al-Dīn al-Shīrāzī
(1236–1311) and his student Kamāl al-Dīn (d. 1320)
pursued a more critical look at his optics in Tanqīh.
al-manāz.ir (Revision of Optics), which also delved into
rainbow and halo theory. In analyzing Ibn al-Haytham,
Kamāl al-Dīn initially looked to Ibn Sīnā’s rainbow as a
water drop reflection phenomenon, leading him to con-
sider the water drops as analogous to transparent spheres
of water. This was the breakthrough conclusion, allowing
him to reason that two refractions took place, one on and
one in a cloud drop in the rainbow optics. Kamāl al-Dīn
used a better conceptual physics and geometry to explain
the rainbow than Ibn al-Haytham had used.
The cultural devastation of the Mongol invasion of
the thirteenth century punctuated the end of the Islamic
golden age. Nonetheless, it left its intellectual legacy in
North Africa and passed to Spain, where cosmopolitan
Toledo served as a clearinghouse of translation for both
Christian and Islamic scholars.
See also: ▶Ibn Sīnā, ▶Ibn Rushd, ▶al-Ma˓mūn, ▶al-
Kindī, ▶al-Bīrūnī, ▶Ibn al-Haytham, ▶Astronomy in
Islam, ▶Optics in Islam, ▶al-Shirāzī -Kamāl al-Dīn
References
Boyer, Carl B. The Rainbow from Myth to Mathematics. New
York: T. Yoseloff, 1959.
Lettinck, Paul. Aristotle’s “Meteorology” and Its Reception
in the Arab World. With an Edition and Translation of Ibn
Suwar’s “Treatise on Meteorological Phenomena” and
Ibn Bajja’s “Commentary on the Meteorology”. Leiden:
Brill, 1999.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. An Introduction to Islamic Cosmolog-
ical Doctrine. Revised ed. New York: State University of
New York Press, 1993.
Petraitis, Casimir. The Arabic Version of Aristotle’s Meteor-
ologica: A Critical Edition with an Introduction and
Greek–Arabic Glossaries. Beirut: Dar El-Machreq
Editeurs, 1967.
Sabra, A. I. The Optics of Ibn Al-Haytham. (Books I–III).
London: The Warburg Institute, University of London, 1989.
--- Ibn Haytham. Dictionary of Scientific Biography. Ed. C.
C. Gillispie. Vol. 6. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,
1970. –1990. 189–210.
Smith, A. Mark. The Latin Version of Ibn Mu˓ādh’s Treatise
‘On Twilight and the Rising of Clouds’. Arabic Sciences
and Philosophy 2 (1992): 83–132.

Thorndike, Lynn. History of Magic and Experimental
Science. 8 vols. 2nd ed. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1964–66.
Urvoy, Dominique. Ibn Rushd (Averroes). Trans. Olivia
Stewart. London: Routledge, 1991.
Wickens, G. M. Ibn Sina: Scientist and Philosopher. Bristol:
Burleigh Press, 1952.
Military Technology
W ILLIAM J. M C P EAK
The term military technology is broad, and, as a subject
restricted to non-Western cultures, potentially laden
with analytical complexity. In fact, the constraints of
a survey make it necessary to view the more technical
innovations of the larger cultures rather than the myriad
of variations on pointed weapons fashioned by essen-
tially all peoples. Stimulated by environment and nature,
the gamut of world cultures have used artistic and
functional inventiveness in weaponry. Non-Western
ancient military technology provided significant origins
for Western military technology as well.
The first most significant line in the military
technology progression was metallurgy of copper in
the transitional period between the Neolithic and true
Bronze Ages, approximately between 4500 BCE
(perhaps 5000 BCE) and 3500 BCE in the Near East
arc from Mesopotamia to Egypt. Copper’s cold
malleability enabled the earliest metalworkers to beat,
rather than fire it from the ore as with harder metals. In
doing so, they could fashion a metal version of basic
wood, bone, and stone pointed weapons: arrow tips,
spears, and particularly, swords. This was followed by
smelting (melting metal to separate out impurities) and
founding (melting the purer metal for casting and
molding). By about 3000 BCE the general use of copper
and experiment with its alloys (bronze with tin and brass
with zinc) ushered in the Bronze Age to southwestern
Asia over five centuries before general use. This was an
essentially Near Eastern phenomenon, probably
disseminated to India, Anatolia, and surrounding areas
after this.
As far as we know today, the first great civilization
of humanity was that of Sumer in southern Lower
Mesopotamia after 4000 BCE. Among so many
accomplishments handed down to subsequent Meso-
potamian civilizations and the west, one especially
important one was worked copper alloys and probably
bronze swords. Mesopotamian cast copper mace heads,
the first technical use of metal, date from 2500 BCE.
About the same time Sumerian smiths were casting
socketed axe heads. In the north, Semitic peoples to
Military technology 1669
be called Akkadians, from which the Assyrian and
Babylonian cultures developed, assimilated Sumerian
technology. Before 2000 BCE non-Semitic, Indo-
European invaders from central Asia began various
waves of infiltration from Asia through Asia Minor into
Mesopotamia and on to India. All would leave their
military mark. Among these were the Hittites from the
northwest and later the Hurrians from the northeast and
the Caucasus – the one moving into Lower, the latter
into Upper Mesopotamia.
The Hittites overran most of Asia Minor (Anatolia)
after 2000 BCE and about 1500 BCE invaded Babylonia
long enough to raze Babylon. Anatolia, a high plateau
fringed by mountain ranges, was rich in mineral
resources, among these gold and silver, but most
importantly iron. The Hittites probably ushered in the
early Iron Age by their use of this much harder metal in
their weapons. In the general extent of southwestern
Asia the Iron Age did not arrive until about 1000 BCE,
although a few Mesopotamian objects of perhaps
smelted iron have been dated before 2200 BCE, and
some Egyptian work has been conjectured as even older.
Iron was much superior to bronze in edged and projectile
weapons and required higher temperature metallurgical
processes of smelting iron ore and founding the crude
metal. Although it was thought in some quarters of the
last century that Egypt was the cradle of iron work,
development of its metallurgy may have been contem-
porary with that of Asia Minor, considering abundant
M
Egyptian iron resources. The use of iron also brought
more effective defensive hardware, i.e., in armor and in
horse trappings and the chariot.
The horse and the two-wheeled chariot were Hittite
innovations to western Asian warfare. The horse
brought mobility to tactical maneuvering on the
battlefield for the specialized soldiers called cavalry.
The chariot was introduced during the eighteenth
century BCE and likely by the Indo-European Aryans
(Indo-Iranian, also metalworkers – perhaps early iron
weapon users) who invaded Iran from the northeast at
that time and influenced the Hittites and evidently held
sway over the Hurrians. The chariot provided a further
tactical edge, allowing a soldier or two soldiers to act in
concert in inflicting multiple casualties at one time. As
specialized warriors, the charioteers introduced military
class rule to Near Eastern civilizations. With the added
innovations of scythe-like blades on its wheels, the
chariot also added the mass fear psychological factor to
warfare. The Hittites took northern Syria in their clash
with Egypt about 1400 BCE, the latter having adopted
the horse and chariot after their temporary defeat by the
chariot tactics of the Hyksos, Amorite peoples who
invaded Palestine about 1700 BCE. These latter also
contributed large fortification technology to the general
mud wall military architecture pool of the Near East
which started with the high curtain walls of ancient
1670 Military technology
Jericho (8000 BCE), the first example of specialist
military architecture.
By the middle of the fourteenth century BCE the
Assyrians were able to take the military ascendancy in
Upper Mesopotamia and eventually all of Mesopotamia
by the late eleventh century BCE, to become a great
empire. By the eighth century BCE the Assyrian army
had reached an apex of coherency, a blueprint for the
Persian army. Made up of both professional and militia
soldiers, the Assyrian army equipped all troops with
finely tempered iron weapons. They employed cavalry
and chariots, archers (using the composite recurved or
reinforced bow, found in the Middle East to 3000 BCE),
and slingers, who used the simplest, oldest missile
weapon. Adding to their siege tactics, sappers (essen-
tially meaning diggers at that time) were used in
approaches to mud-walled defenses, as were battering
rams and wheeled platforms, equipped with shielding
defenses against arrows, for rolling against such walls.
By the sixth century BCE the Persians had become heir
to the Assyrian Empire and to the diverse military
technology of the Near East. It remained dominant for
200 years until the informal transition of east to west
finally came face to face with the challenge of Greece
under Alexander the Great in the middle of the fourth
century BCE.
In the Far East, Chinese civilization as far back at
2000 BCE was characterized by a value placed on
functional technology. The integration of the wall into
Chinese cultural architecture was given a profound
military expression in the Great Wall, which was
started in 214 BCE by the first emperor Shi Huangdi as
a linking of earlier rampart walls. It was meant to keep
out the north/northwestern invaders who would plague
China for centuries. The crenellated, brick-faced wall
still stands, stretching some 4,000 miles and 30 ft (9 m)
high, with regular spaced square watchtowers 40 ft
(12 m) high with a 9–12 foot (3–4 m) passageway
through them. Along with their own cultural variations
on basic weapons, the Chinese designed light hunting
crossbows by the fifth century BCE and were using
them in combat by the second century BCE.
The use of iron metallurgy continued to be the prime
advance in military technology. Iron ore is plentiful all
over the world. Variations of alloying iron with carbon
in smelting processes, which included the introduction
of air blasting to fan the fire (the forge) to high
temperatures, meant that steel (iron with a small
proportion of carbon) and its hardening were probably
fairly contemporaneous with iron working (from 1000
BCE). Although dating is indeterminate, the great
deposits of iron in Central Africa and the proximity of
the Egyptian influence point to limited iron and steel
forging. Indian weapons of iron were prevalent by 500
BCE. In fact, tempered steel was produced fairly early
in India. Bars, rods, and plates of raw steel were
exported throughout the Near and Middle East. Indian
steel was used in the founding of blades of “watered
steel” (the process of folding malleable steel over and
over then beating it out). These light, high tensile
strength curved (Damascus) blades enabled the effec-
tive long sweeping offensive draw cut, used by both the
infantry and cavalry of western and central Asia down
through the last century.
The development of the relatively simple smelting
methods of steel and steel weaponry was disseminated
eastward to southeast Asia via Indian colonization. Iron
weaponry and working began independently in China
about 500 BCE and smelting of crude steel was fairly
contemporaneous (about 400 BCE). By the Middle
Ages the effectiveness of the Mongolian steel saber,
influenced by Middle Eastern contacts, was supplanting
the straight Chinese sword. Japanese iron weaponry,
with Chinese influence, began about 200 BCE, although
the earliest relics date between the second and eighth
centuries BCE. The best of the distinctive long, slightly
curved samurai steel blades date from the twelfth
century and progress to the fine temper-lined watered
blades of later centuries. All these areas applied iron and
steel technology to military accoutrements and armor.
The work of the Near and Middle East, China, and Japan
was particularly artistic as the Middle Ages progressed.
Although the steel sword would remain the principal
weapon of the great non-Western cultures, the
destructive potential of gunpowder technology into
the High Middle Ages was to affect the larger non-
Western cultures as it did the West. The use of incen-
diaries was already ancient, most noticeably in China.
The so-called “Greek fire,” the generic term for a
variety of mixtures based on naphtha (a petroleum
distillate) added to sulfur, pitch, turpentine, tars, and
oils (in modern interpretation, probably a suspension of
metallic sodium, lithium, or potassium in a petroleum
base), was perhaps in crude use by the fifth century
BCE. It is noted as being used by the Boeotian Greeks
at the siege of Delium in 424 BCE during the
Peloponnesian War.
The historiographic origin of gunpowder, that is black
powder, is still controversial. The gunpowder recipe
itself is of uncertain origin, but its basic constituents
are now generally first attributed to ninth century
Chinese alchemists. It might also be the independent
product of Islamic lands, most like Moorish Spain by the
mid-twelfth century. From there it perhaps moved to
India where there may have been independent knowl-
edge and use of the chemical ingredients from the late
eleventh century. It was known in northern Europe
by the early thirteenth century. The argument for an
intermediary disseminator, the Eurasian Steppe lands,
the European/Asain crossroad, to Islam and Europe,
particularly by the thirteenth century Mongols is also
plausible.

Explosive application of gunpowder in a weapon
has also been controversial. Some theorists of Chinese
primacy (Chinese toy rocket experiments for fire-
works evolved early) date bamboo-tube hand guns or
cannons and rockets for arrows and spears from AD
900–950. Various types of incendiary arrows, slings,
and javelins, as well as incendiary and exploding
bombs, grenades, and fire-balls are also attributed to
the Chinese by the eleventh century. The historical
point of military effectiveness of such devices remains
uncertain. Widespread military use in China did not
appear until the Song-Jin dynastic wars of the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries. By the thirteenth century
bomb technology with iron casings and large size was
used by Chinese and Mongolian antagonists in land
siege warfare. There is also evidence of time delay
fusing using flintstone abraded against steel wheels to
set off multiple mines in fourteenth century China.
Rockets were introduced to Europeans during the
Mongol western invasions at the Battle of Legnica in
1241. There is also evidence of rockets in India in the
18th century.
Gunpowder weapons applications appeared about
the middle of the thirteenth century in Muslim North
Africa and Moorish Spain as crude iron and iron-
reinforced wooden bucket mortars for flinging stones in
fortifications warfare. Also, Moors were using effective
rockets on Spanish soil by 1249. Thereafter some
evidence shows that the evolution of mortars, cannons,
and finally handheld firearms progressed with most
tactical efficiency in Europe, although some historians
date Chinese cannons of significant size and metal
composition from as early as the tenth century. Non-
Western applications were innovative in their own right.
By the middle of the fourteenth century, cannons
mounted on walls or on mobile carriages and cradles
had replaced most of the traditional engines of war
in both Europe and the Near East. And Eastern
projectiles ranged from stone balls to huge arrows with
sheet-metal fins.
The growing threat to Eastern Europe, the Adriatic,
and the Aegean by the ascendancy of the Ottoman
Turks through the fourteenth century was furthered
by their pursuing the use of artillery to challenge
the weakening Byzantium Empire. A parallel was the
thirteenth century Mongol challenge and conquest of
China, with cavalry, siege tactics, and gunpowder
technology. By the fifteenth century the Turks were
casting – sometimes with the guidance of European
renegades – huge bronze mortars and cannons, such
as those used in the final siege and fall of Constantinople
in 1453.
The Turks also turned to the Western matchlock
arquebus, the first gunpowder longarm, which was the
single most important transitional pivot from medieval
to modern warfare. The Ottoman domination over the
Military technology 1671
Arab world influenced firearm dissemination to Arabia
and North Africa where, unlike the more angular stock
of Turkish and Persian guns, styles reflected Arab and
Kabyle preferences.
The influence of the West on the Asian Pacific was
initially felt in trade and subsequently in acquaintance
with western gunpowder technology. Perhaps the most
interesting case involved the Japanese, who quickly
adapted the matchlock arquebus which the ubiquitous
Portuguese traders, already established in China,
brought in 1542. The Japanese matchlock was an
austere but highly stylish weapon, smaller in size and
caliber than western matchlocks with a spring design
firing mechanism, which soon joined the traditional
feudal weapon array and went on to change the tactical
maneuvering of the civil warfare of the sixteenth
century.
The Korean civilization provides an interesting
development in Asian and world naval warfare at
this point in military technological history. Located on
a strategic peninsula, the Korean people endured
centuries of piratical incursions from the Japanese
islands on one hand and politically complex dynastic
invasions’ from the Chinese mainland on the other. A
sophisticated native culture, including science and
technology (particularly, shipbuilding), was able to
grow from the tenth century. Until 1592 peace and
cultural advances continued. Then the Japanese general
Toyotomi Hideyoshi unified Japan, calling for the
M
invasion of China through Korea, which refused his
passage. Although they had cannon, the Koreans did
not have the matchlock longarms of the 200,000
Japanese invaders. The ensuing incursion was success-
ful until 1593 when the Korean admiral Yisunsin
invented what must be the first ironclad ship, evidently
thin iron plating over a high, flattened oval-shaped
ship of 16 oars with circumference cannon ports. Burn
and board-proof, a fleet of these “tortoise boats” was
sent against and defeated a Japanese armada in Chinhai
Bay. This triumph provided the impetus to drive the
Japanese out.
The Chinese perpetuated their own hand cannon,
large wall artillery technology, and shipboard cannon
well into the nineteenth century. They adapted to
the Portuguese style of longarm lock but designed
their own pistol grip-like stock. Both features influ-
enced the far away Malaysian peninsula gun style
which itself influenced the intermediate region of
the Gulf of Tonkin. On the under side of Asia,
Indian matchlocks showed significant regional varia-
tions from both the Portuguese and Arabic initial
introduction. Three basic subcontinent Indian match-
locks were joined by very stylized weapons from
Ceylon (Sri Lanka). By the early seventeenth century
the Ceylonese exceeded the Portuguese in the manu-
facture of musket size matchlocks, one type with a
1672 Military technology in ancient Egypt
unique bifurcated scroll butt. The Burmese side of the
Malaysian peninsula essentially used Indian match-
locks with local decorations.
Although more isolated non-Western peoples con-
tinued to use the matchlock (indeed, the Japanese did
until the early nineteenth century), most succumbed
to trade and import and adapted to the progression
of firearms manufacturing and, just as significantly,
ordinance technology in keeping with the single-
minded exigencies of superiority in warfare. These
latter factors inevitably and irrevocably set the new
course of non-Western military technology as a
dependent reflection of the West, a reflection all the
more thought provoking in the modem shadows of
nuclear and chemical weaponry.
See also: ▶Gunpowder
References
Bhakari, S. K. Indian Warfare. New Delhi: Munshiram
Manoharlad, 1981.
Bottomley, I. Arms and Armour of the Samurai: The History
of Weaponry in Ancient Japan. New York: Crescent Books,
1988.
Creswell, K. A. C. A Bibliography of Arms and Armour in
Islam. London: Royal Asiatic Society, 1956.
Held, Robert. The Age of Firearms. 2nd ed. Northfield,
Illinois: Gun Digest Co., 1970.
Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China. Vol. 5.
Chemistry and Chemical Technology, pt. 7: Military
Technology: The Gunpowder Epic. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1986.
Oman, C. W. C. The Wars of the Sixteenth Century. Reprint of
1937 ed. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1979.
Robinson, Charles A. Jr. Ancient History from Prehistoric
Times to the Death of Justinian. New York: Macmillan,
1951.
Stone, George C. A Glossary of the Construction, Decoration
and Use of Arms and Armor in all Countries and in all
Times. Reprint of 1934 ed. New York: Brussel, 1966.
Military Technology in Ancient Egypt
M ICHAEL B ERGER
Weapons and warfare were a part of ancient Egyptian
life from the Prehistoric periods through Dynastic times.
While examples of actual weapons, chariots, fortifica-
tions, and ships are relatively rare, Ancient Egyptian
art and archaeology provide us with many depictions
and descriptions of these objects. This information
helps us to identify and reconstruct some of the
technologies of the Late Prehistoric and Pharaonic
periods (3500–332 BCE).
Weapons
The Ancient Egyptians used a large a variety of weapons
in the Predynastic and Dynastic periods. Many of
the early types continued to be used throughout the
Pharaonic period. Generally, weapon innovation in
Egypt tended to lag behind neighboring states and
groups in Southwest Asia due to social, technological,
geographical, and political factors (Spalinger 2005: 15).
Whereas individual craftsmen produced weapons until
the Late Neolithic period, by the Early Dynastic period
specialized royal workshops were producing larger
volumes of weapons (Gilbert 2004: 71–72; Gnirs 2001:
405). At the beginning of the New Kingdom, new wea-
pons were introduced into Egypt from Western Asia, and
a period of innovative design started, during which
Egyptian craftsmen perfected designs for the chariot and
composite bow (Shaw 1991: 59, 68–69; Spalinger
2005: 1).
Most scholars categorize Egyptian weapons by their
range: short-, medium-, and long-range (Schulman
1995: 290). Weapons can also be grouped according to
their function: e.g., specialized weapons, tool-weapons,
etc. (Gilbert 2004: 33). Both methods are useful, and
they provide different perspectives on the way weapons
were used in Egypt.
Short-range or close-combat weapons were the mace,
club, ax, stabbing spear/lance, dagger, sword; medium-
range weapons were throwing stones, throw-stick/
boomerang, throwing spear/javelin. Long-range weap-
ons were the sling and bow and arrow. Specialized
weapons were the mace and sword; weapon-tools were
the spear, ax, club, boomerang, sling, and bow and
arrow. Tool-weapons were knives, hammers, etc. (Gilbert
2004: 33).
The primary materials for the production of weapons
were stone, copper or copper alloy, wood, and leather,
but bone and ivory were also used (Hoffmeier 2001:
406). Use of chert/flint in tools and weapons dates to
the Paleolithic period and continues through the Dynastic
period, for specific weapons, like spear and arrow
heads, because it was abundant in Egypt and fairly
easy to work (Hoffmeier 2001: 406; Gilbert 2004: 33,
71–72; Nicholson and Shaw 2000: 28–29). Copper was
used for weapons by the end of the Neolithic period, and
continued to be used after bronze became more widely
used in the Middle Kingdom. (More copper objects were
found in Tutankhamun’s tomb than bronze ones;
Nicholson and Shaw 2000: 153–154.)
Natural, unworked stones were probably one of the
earliest weapons (along with sticks). Stones could be
thrown or used as hand-held weapons (Newberry 1893:
Pl. 14). Slings were an inexpensive and easily made
weapon, and could propel a stone to a greater speed and
attain a superior range than a thrown stone (Hoffmeier
2001: 410). While there is no evidence in early Egypt for
slings, they are used in later periods (Gilbert 2004: 70).

Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Table 1 Ancient Egyptian chronology
Late Predynastic period (3200–3032 BCE): Dynasty 0
Dynastic or Pharaonic period (3032–332 BCE): Dynasties 1 to 30
Early Dynastic period (3032–2707 BCE): Dynasties 1 and 2
Old Kingdom (2707–2216 BCE): Dynasties 3 to 8
First Intermediate period (2216–2046 BCE): Dynasties 9 to early 11
Middle Kingdom (2046–1794 BCE): Dynasties late 11 to 14
Second Intermediate period (1794–1550 BCE): Dynasties 15 to 17
New Kingdom (1550–1070 BCE): Dynasties 18 to 20
Third Intermediate period (1070–664 BCE): Dynasties 21 to 25
Late period (664–332 BCE): Dynasties 26 to 30
Greco-Roman period (332 BCE–395 AD)
Ptolemaic period (332–30 BCE)
Roman period (30 BCE–395 AD)
Maces were made from a shaped stone with a hole
drilled through its middle for the handle. Many
examples of disc-, oval-, and pear-shaped maces have
been found in mortuary or temple contexts. Hard stone
mace-heads in early Egypt were a status symbol. Maces
are represented in the art of all periods, but their
numbers decline after the early Dynastic period (Shaw
1991: 31; Gilbert 2004: 35–41; Shaw 1991: 31–32;
MH 2, Pl. 102).
Although primarily used as hunting weapons in the
Predynastic and Dynastic periods, sticks were also used
by warriors and soldiers (Capart 1904: Pl. 1; Gilbert
2004: 69–70). Staffs and clubs were probably among
the earliest weapons, and they are used throughout the
Pharaonic period (Capart 1904: Pl. 1).
Axes were some of the oldest and most common
weapons in ancient Egypt (Shaw 1991: 34–37). Stone
axes ( probably all hand-held) date to the Paleolithic
period (Hoffmeier 2001: 407). Flint axes were
produced in the Neolithic period, but the earliest
evidence of an ax with a handle is perhaps the one on
the Hunter’s Palette, which dates to the end of the Late
Predynastic period (3500–3300 BCE; Gilbert 2004:
63). Starting in the Mid-Predynastic period copper axes
appear in Lower Egypt and subsequently appear
throughout the country. Early axes are of plain form,
some with holes and others with lugs for attaching to a
handle, and most examples seem to be from the Early
Dynastic period (3032–2707 BCE; Gilbert 2004: 63–
68). In the Old and Middle Kingdoms semi-circular and
rounded ax blades are shown used by Egyptian troops
in siege scenes (Arnold and Settgast 1965: Fig. 2).
These ax heads would have been attached to the haft
with leather bindings (Shaw 1991: 34–37). A “scal-
loped” or three-“tanged” ax head was also used in the
Middle Kingdom (2046–1794 BCE; Blackman 1914:
Pl. 3). At about the same time, in Syria and Palestine
axes with “duck-billed” blades and socketed heads
were used and show up as copies or imports in Egypt
Military technology in ancient Egypt 1673
(Hoffmeier 2001: 407; Spalinger 2005: 15; Gnirs 2001:
405). Later, in Western Asia and New Kingdom Egypt,
longer, narrower ax blades that were more suitable for
piercing shields or helmets appear and were possibly
developed as a response to the introduction of armor
(Shaw 1991: 34–37) (Table 1).
Examples of large-chipped stone spearheads dating
to the Paleolithic period have been found in Egypt
(Hoffmeier 2001: 407). One of the earliest representa-
tions of a spearman is on the Hunter’s Palette (Gilbert
2004: 58). Flint spearheads continued to be used in the
Old and Middle Kingdoms, even though copper M
spearheads appear in the Late Predynastic period
(Gilbert 2004: 59). Bronze, socketed spearheads appear
in the New Kingdom (Shaw 1991: 37). Spears could be
used as an offensive or defensive weapon, but the
javelin was primarily an offensive weapon. The lance
or long spear was used as a thrusting weapon and was
used in the Predynastic and Dynastic periods (Gilbert
2004: 60–61; Hoffmeier 2001: 407).
Bifacially flaked flint daggers and knifes were used
in the Neolithic period and Predynastic periods. Copper
daggers appear in the Middle Predynastic period and
continue in use throughout the Dynastic period.
Daggers were provided with wood, bone, or ivory
handles (Gilbert 2004: 42; Shaw 1991: 37). As the use
of bronze expanded in the New Kingdom, a longer
dagger or short-stabbing sword was developed
(Hoffmeier 2001: 407). By the Ramesside period
(1292–1070 BCE), mercenaries in the Egyptian army
employed longer, double-edged, pointed swords. The
sickle-sword or Khepesh first appeared in Mesopota-
mia, and the Egyptian varieties that appeared in the
New Kingdom were modeled on the West Asian types
and may have been used more like an ax than a sword
(Spalinger 2005: 15; Hoffmeier 2001: 408).
The bow and arrow were used in all periods, starting
as early as the Late Paleolithic period (Gilbert 2004:
44–45). Until the New Kingdom most bows were made
1674 Military technology in ancient Egypt
from a single piece of indigenous wood, which could
be used to construct both the simple and double-
curved/convex types of “self ”-bows (Western and
McLeod 1995: 77–79). These early bows did not have
a nock for the bowstring, but instead the string would
have been wound around the ends several times
(Hoffmeier 2001: 408–409). Self-bows continued to
be used in the New Kingdom, and 14 examples were
discovered in the tomb of Tutankhamun (McLeod
1982: 1–2).
Influences from Western Asia led to the adoption
of the composite bow in Egypt. Because of its
construction – a laminated sandwich of wood between
horn and sinew – the composite bow was more elastic
and therefore had greater range and penetrating power
than self-bows (Shaw 1991: 37, 66). There were
recurved and triangular types of composite bows
(Shaw 1991: 42, 66).
Arrows were composed of three elements: the point
or arrowhead, the shaft, and the fletching. Arrow points
were made from stone, ivory, bone, and wood in all
periods and copper and copper alloys in later periods
(Gilbert 2004: 46; Hoffmeier 2001: 409). Arrowheads
were made in a variety of shapes, depending on use
(Gnirs 2001: 405). Arrows with copper alloy points
did not become common until mid- to late Dynasty 12
(ca. 1875–1794 BCE; Spalinger 2005: 15), and it was
afterwards that the use of flint points declined (Gilbert
2004: 48–54). However, 20 arrows with flint transverse
points were discovered in Tutankhamun’s tomb
(Gilbert 2004: 48–54). Reeds and wood were used
for arrow shafts. The nocks could be cut in the reed or
in a nock-piece made from wood, bone, or ivory fitted
into posterior end of the shaft (McLeod 1982: 4–5).
Fore shafts were attached to the anterior part of the
shaft and could be made from the same materials as
the nock-piece; the fore shaft was often sharpened to
serve as the point. If arrowheads were used they could
be attached to the shaft with mastic (Gilbert 2004: 49).
Two, or more commonly, three, or four vanes of
feathers were added to provide stability to the arrow in
flight (Western and McLeod 1995: 77–79). Depictions
of quivers were rare until the Middle Kingdom, and
prior to that time archers usually carried arrows in their
hands (Capart 1904: Pl. 1; Blackman 1915: Pl. 8 – both
methods depicted here). (It is possible that the quiver
was introduced into Egypt from Western Asia, since the
Egyptian word for quiver is derived from a Semitic
word; Spalinger 2005: 15.) In the New Kingdom
quivers were still carried but were designed to attach to
the sides of chariots as well (Shaw 1991: 66–67).
Shields are the only type of defensive equipment
depicted in early Egyptian art (except perhaps the parry
stick; Gilbert 2004: 43–44). In the New Kingdom new
types of shields, helmets, and body armor appear,
possibly as a reaction to the introduction of new
powerful offensive weapons, like the composite bow
and sword, and the increasing use of copper alloy for
missile and hand weapons (Davies 1930: Pls. 16, 22,
23, and 24; Gnirs 2001: 405). The shields found in
Tutankhamun’s tomb were made from wood, leather,
and other animal hides. In the New Kingdom copper or
copper alloy shields or shield parts may have been
used. Leather scale armor was used, as were leather
tunics with attached copper alloy scales (Hoffmeier
2001: 410).
Chariots
Whether the Hyksos introduced the chariot into Egypt
or if it came from Southwest Asia by some other
means, its first mention in an Egyptian context does not
occur until the beginning of the New Kingdom (1550
BCE; Spalinger 2005: 8–14, 18–23). The adoption of
the chariot was rather rapid, since many of the
technologies and conditions required for its construc-
tion and use already existed in Egypt in the late third
and early second millennium BCE. For example,
horses and the wheel are attested prior to Dynasty 18
(Gnirs 2001: 402; Shaw 1991: 65). However, the first
steps in the development of the chariot occur elsewhere
in the Middle East (Schulman 1980: 117–118;
Hoffmeier 2001: 410; Littauer and Crouwel 2000).
While the Hyksos may have employed chariots, there is
no mention of their using them, nor has any evidence of
chariots been discovered at Tell ed-Dab’a (Hoffmeier
2001: 410). There may be a reference to a chariot or
chariot team on the Kamose stela, but the first clear text
reference is found in the autobiography of Ahmose Son
of Ibana, a career sailor who fought under the early
kings of Dynasty 18: Ahmose, Amenhotep I, and
Thutmose I (Lichtheim 1976: 12–14). Fragmentary
battle scenes depicting teams of chariot horses and
chariots were discovered in the ruins of King Ahmose’s
funerary structure at Abydos (Harvey 2001: 52–55).
The expense of chariot building and maintenance
meant that its use was limited to the royalty and nobility
(Schulman 1995: 295–297; Gnirs 2001: 403), so from
the very start, the chariot was a status symbol, which
besides being used in a military context was also
employed in domestic activities like hunting and
inspecting estates (Davies and Gardiner 1936: Pls. 50,
68; Davies 1903: Pl. 17; Davies 1905: Pl. 13).
There are few surviving examples of chariots or parts
of chariots, but fortunately the Egyptians often
portrayed them in paintings or relief sculptures on
tomb or temple walls. Actual vehicles or vehicle
fragments include the chariot from Yuya and Tuya’s
tomb, the Florence chariot, the six examples from
Tutankhamun’s tomb, the body of a chariot of
Thutmose IV, and the Amenhotep III hub fragment
(Davis 1907: Pl. 32; Carter and Mace 1927: 54, 60;
Carter and Newberry 1904: 24–38; Hansen 1994: 52).
 Military technology in ancient Egypt 1675

In art, chariots are shown in domestic contexts (e.g., Fashioned from a single piece of wood, Egyptian
Ahkenaten and Nefertiti visiting a temple), being chariot axles were long (2–2.3 m) to provide great
constructed (e.g., in the tomb of Puimre), or in military stability and maneuverability. There were no bearings,
contexts (e.g., Ramses II fighting the Hittites at but the axle could be fitted with greased leather sleeves
Kadesh). In battle scenes, there is often a two-man to minimize friction and wear from the wheel (Hansen
crew represented, a driver, who also often holds a 1994: 54). The placement of the axle at the rear of the
shield, and an archer. vehicle helped to distribute the crew’s weight between
The chariot was a mobile platform for archers, horses and wheels, and absorb some of the shock of the
usually operating at a distance from the enemy. It also ride (Carter and Mace 1927: 56) (Fig. 1).
performed some of the duties that were later assigned to The body of an Egyptian chariot was small and light,
cavalry, such as screening infantry and out-flanking being composed of a bent wood support frame and
and pursuing the enemy. Use was limited by terrain: rails, with side panels of linen and leather. Most chariot
rivers could be difficult to ford and rough ground bodies were open in the back. Portions of the body
presented obstacles. Therefore chariot use was restrict- were attached or stabilized by leather lashings to the
ed to relatively flat ground, and because they were light floor, pole, and axle (Hansen 1994: 59).
and unarmored they could be easily damaged (Davies Bow cases, arrow quivers, and javelin cases would
and Davies 1933: Pl. 7 – bearers easily carry parts of a have been attached to the sides of the chariot, but only
chariot). Egyptian accounts of the battle of Kadesh paintings or relief carvings of these survive (Fig. 2).
relate that the Hittites deployed 2,300 chariots, but Chariot warriors are occasionally shown wearing
Schulman believes this is an exaggeration (Schulman helmets and leather (?) armor, but most commonly, the
1980: 132). Nonetheless, the Annals of Thutmose III crew and horses were nearly unprotected. Perhaps its
record that 924 chariots were captured at Megiddo mobility and speed were effective in keeping the
(Gnirs 2001: 402). chariot crew and team safe. Representations of chariot
Chariots were primarily composed of parts made teams on tomb or temple walls provide much of our
from a variety of woods and leather, although other information about leather harnesses and bridles.
materials like metal fittings, textiles, glue, bone, and Though metal bits were used, none have been found
ivory were also used (Shaw 1991: 64). Chariot with surviving chariots (Carter and Mace 1927: 59), but
workshop scenes became a popular subject for New
Kingdom tombs; they show workers making wheels,
M
bodies and other components of chariots (Davies and
Davies 1933: Pls. 7, 10, 11, and 12). Local and imported
woods were used for many parts, some of which, like
rails, drive poles, and yokes, required steam bending, a
technique the Egyptians possessed prior to the New
Kingdom (Nicholson and Shaw 2000: 357; Shaw 2001:
63–64). Leather was also used liberally in chariot
construction, for floors, harnesses, and tires (Nicholson
and Shaw 2000: 309; Scheel 1989: 47; Hoffmeier 2001:
410; Carter and Mace 1927: 56; Shaw 1991: 63), and for
binding and protecting the more vulnerable components
of the chariot (Davies and Davies 1933: 12).
The first Egyptian chariots had wheels with four Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 1 The Chariot
spokes (Davies 1923: Pl. 23, bottom). A larger, found in the Tomb of Yuya and Tuya (Newberry 1893:
stronger wheel was probably required as the chariot Pl. 32).
became bigger in order to accommodate a two-man
crew (driver and warrior). Therefore, an eight-spoke
wheel was briefly used, but this was abandoned in
favor of the six-spoke wheel, which was found
sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the crew
(Carter and Newberry 1904: Pls. 10–11; Carter and
Mace 1927: 57, 58). The hub or nave was the most
complex component of the wheel and was composed of
morticed halves, together with the six V-shaped spoke
segments, and tenoned wheel flanges (used to extend
the hub along the axle to prevent wobbling; Hansen Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 2 A bow case
1994: 52; Carter and Mace 1927: 57). mounted on the side of a chariot (Newberry 1894: Pl. 12).
1676 Military technology in ancient Egypt

examples from excavations indicate metal bits were seen in the Dynasty 5 (2504–2347 BCE) rock cut tomb
standard equipment (Spalinger 2005: 19). of Inti at Deshasheh (Petrie 1898: Pl. 4) (Fig. 8).
Horses became an important commodity in Egypt at Beneath the scaling ladder two Egyptian soldiers and
the same time the chariot was introduced. Most of their commander are prying blocks or bricks from the
Egypt’s horses were captured in battle, imported, or wall. In the Dynasty 6 (2347–2216 BCE) tomb of
obtained as tribute (Spalinger 2005: 19; Shaw 1991: Kaemheset at Saqqara a large ladder with two wheels at
65; Schulman 1995: 295–297). the bottom is shown propped against the wall of a city
during an Egyptian assault (Quibell and Hayter 1927:
Frontispiece). Egyptian soldiers armed with axes and
Fortifications/Siege
Evidence for fortifications, assaults on fortified places,
and sieges first appeared in Ancient Egypt during the
Predynastic period. Some of the large, decorated cos-
metic palettes, or fragments of palettes that were found at
Hierakonpolis and elsewhere, are decorated with scenes
that occasionally include fortifications. For example, on a
fragment of the “Bull Palette” is a relief carving of a
fortified enclosure, represented in plan by a wall with
buttresses. Similar scenes are found on the Narmer Palette
and the so-called “Libyan Palette.” From this time
forward, depictions and descriptions of defensive archi-
tecture and assaults on fortified places became popular
subjects in Egyptian art and literature. Monumental mud-
brick structures were constructed during the early
Dynastic period at Hierakonpolis (Kasekhemwy “Fort”)
and Abydos (Shunet el-Zebib), and while these buildings
had a funerary purpose, they are our earliest archaeolog-
ical evidence that the Egyptians were capable of build-
ing large-scale fortifications at this time (Figs. 3–7).
Scaling ladders and towers start to be represented in Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 4 Bull Palette
some of the tomb decorations of the Old Kingdom, as detail (Capart 1904: 235, Fig. 166).

Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 3 “Bull Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 5 Narmer
Palette” fragment (Capart 1904: 235, Fig. 166). Palette and detail of bottom (Capart 1904: 237, Fig. 168).

Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 6 Narmer
Palette, detail of bottom (Capart 1904: 237, Fig. 168).
Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 7 “Libyan
Palette” (Capart 1904: 229, Fig. 160).
Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 8 Siege scene from the tomb chapel of Inti at Deshasheh, Dyn. 6
(Petrie 1898: Pl. 4).
Military technology in ancient Egypt 1677
pickaxes are shown, attempting to create a breach or
undermine the fortifications.
A number of fragments of a siege survive from the
mortuary temple of the Dynasty 11 King Mentuhotep II
(2046–1995 BCE) at Deir el Bahri and from the
Theban tomb of Intef (TT#386), who commanded the
army under Mentuhotep (Arnold and Settgast 1965:
50–51 and Fig. 2). A mobile siege tower is shown in
the battle scenes from Intef’s tomb, and like the ladder
portrayed in Kaemheset’s tomb it also has wheels.
From Dynasties 11 and 12 are depictions of assaults
on fortifications from the tombs of high officials at
Beni Hasan (Newberry 1893: 85, Pl. 14 – tombs of
Khnumhotep I (#14) and Amenemhat (#2); Newberry
1893: Pls. 5, 15 – tombs of Baket III (#15) and Khety
(#17)) (Fig. 9).
Either the fortified structures depicted in these tombs
were constructed on mounds, or the lower portions of
their walls were protected by a glacis (a cleared bank
sloping down from a castle’s walls. It makes a clear line
of fire in which attackers have nowhere to hide). The
glacis would have reinforced the walls, made it difficult
for sappers to undermine them, and prevented siege
towers from approaching. The tops of the walls were
crenelated and had towers that protruded outward. From
the protection of a shelter the attackers used a kind of
lance-like weapon to create a breach in the upper parts
of the walls or to clear the parapet of defenders.
As Egyptian influence grew in Palestine and Nubia
M
during the Middle Kingdom, Egyptian kings con-
structed forts along these frontiers to protect trade and
communication routes (Shaw 1991: 16–23). In the
region of the Second Cataract several forts and fortified
1678 Military technology in ancient Egypt
Military Technology in Ancient Egypt. Fig. 9 Assault on a fort from the tomb of Amenemhat (#2) at Beni Hasan (Davies
1903: Pl. 14).
towns were constructed or expanded; the most
elaborate ones were at Mirgissa, Buhen, and Aniba.
The forts had elaborate defenses, including massive
brick walls, buttresses, towers, counterscarps, glacis,
and ditches. Their plans were similar to one another,
with regularly laid out streets, lined with buildings for
government officials and garrison troops (Emery et al.
1979: Pls. 2–4).
The kings of the New Kingdom maintained many of
the older frontier forts and built new ones in the region
south of the Second Cataract.
Depictions of battles and assaults on fortified
towns are displayed on the walls of later New Kingdom
temples. Textual references to sieges include the
account of Ahmose Son of Ibana about the fall of
Avaris, the Hyksos capital in Egypt’s eastern Delta,
and Sharuhen, a Hyksos stronghold near present-day
Gaza City. These cities only fell to the Egyptians after
several campaigns and sieges (Lichtheim 1976: 12–
14), leading Redford to suggest that Egyptian siegecraft
was not very sophisticated at this time (Redford 1992:
138–139). However, it is possible that the Egyptians
revisited these cities several times, during several
campaigning seasons, rather than conducting a single
lengthy siege (Redford 1992: 129).
Thutmose III spent several campaign seasons in
Palestine, Syria, and Mitanni. For the first time in
Egyptian accounts the Annals of Thutmose III describe
a siege wall at Megiddo, presumably constructed
to prevent any of the populace from escaping and to
protect the Egyptians from sorties and from an enemy
relief force (Redford 2000: 31–33).
There are several temple relief scenes from the reign of
Ramses III that depict assaults on fortified towns in great
detail but show no real advances in either fortification or
siege technologies (MH II, PL.90; MH II, PL.87; MH II,
PL.94 and 95 (photo); MH II, PL.88 and 89 (photo)). The
fortified “Eastern High Gate” of Ramses III’s mortuary
temple at Medinet Habu resembles some of the Syrian
fortifications that are depicted in some of the relief scenes
of sieges from Dynasties 19 and 20 (MH VIII, PL.591;
MH II, PL.87).
Following the New Kingdom, Egyptian control of
Nubia and Syria–Palestine began to wane as did royal
authority inside Egypt. The unsettled conditions of
the Third Intermediate period (1069–664 BCE) were
witness to the construction of additional fortified towns
and cities throughout Egypt. The Kushite King Piye
(r. ca. 746–715 BCE) recorded the events of his
campaigns in Egypt on the Gebel Barkal Stele, including
descriptions of fortified sites in Middle Egypt and the
Delta, some of which were besieged and assaulted by
his forces (Lichtheim 1980: 66–84). At the siege of
Memphis, one of his commanders suggested building
a ramp or causeway across inundated land to bring
Piye’s troops before the walls of the city. Though there is
no previous record of ramps being used in sieges, there
are examples that survive in architectural contexts
(as on the inside face of the first pylon at Karnak). In
addition, in Papyrus Anastasi I, which dates to the late
New Kingdom, a military officer is given the task of
estimating the volume of materials (brick, reeds, and
beams) needed to construct a ramp of specific dimen-
sions (Gardiner 1911: 16–17, 31–33). Rather than
construct a causeway or build siege towers, Piye used
ships to ferry his troops right up to the walls of the city
where they successfully overwhelmed its defenses
(Lichtheim 1980: 75–76). Piye’s forces also may have
used siege engines called “hurler” and “wooden servant”
at Hermopolis, but their exact functions remain
unknown (Lichtheim 1980: 71–73; Schulman 1995:
298–299). A generation later the Assyrians assaulted
Memphis and captured it using siege techniques similar
to those used earlier by the Egyptians.
Navy
Although boats have been depicted in Egyptian art
since Predynastic times (Berger 1992: 107–120), it is
difficult to ascertain their specific military uses until
later periods. The earliest boats were reed craft, but
local and imported woods were used in boat construc-
tion from at least the Old Kingdom (2707–2216 BCE).
In a military context it seems that boats were primarily

used to transport troops and materials (Lichtheim 1976:
12–14). The earliest surviving representation of a
conflict on water is carved into the ivory handle of the
Gebel el-Arak knife, which dates to the Naqada II
period (ca. 3500–3300 BCE; Shaw 1991: 59–63).
Examples of large-wooden boats were discovered in
1991 in 14 boat graves near the Shunet el-Zebib at
Abydos (University of Pennsylvania; Pierce and Kosty
2000: ▶http://www.upennmuseum.com/pressreleases/
forum.pl?msg=43).
Scenes of boat building are often included on the
walls of Old Kingdom tombs, such as the Dynasty 6
tomb of Mereruka at Saqqara (Sakkarah Expedition
1938: Pl. 152). Two large, wooden boats dating to
Dynasty 4 (2639–2504 BCE) and belonging to the
funerary equipment of King Khufu were discovered
beside the Great Pyramid at Giza, and the Palermo
stone describes a 52-m boat that was built during the
reign of Khufu’s father Sneferu (r. ca. 2639–2604
BCE; Wilkinson 2000: 141–144). One of the Khufu
boats has been restored at Giza. Instead of a keel it has a
central shelf and two side shelves that provide stability.
The planks of the sides are joined to one another by
pegs, ropes that run through a system of holes on the
inside of the planks, and by hook scarves (Landström
1970: 28).
Six boats were discovered near the pyramid of
Sesostris III at Dashur. One of the boats has planks that
are joined only by pegs and by dovetailed fasteners
(Landström 1970: 90). Hogging-trusses were also used
in lieu of a keel to strengthen river craft and sea going
ships alike (Landström 1970: 64, 12–23).
Ships are often shown in the funerary art of the
Middle Kingdom, including model wooden boats, and
it is in a scene from the early Middle Kingdom tomb
of Inyotef at Thebes that archers are depicted firing
from boats or barges. Prior to the emergence of the
chariotry, it seems that the elite mobile arm was the
navy (Spalinger 2005: 5). At the end of Dynasty 17 and
the beginning of Dynasty 18 Egyptian naval activities
against the Hyksos are described on the Kamose stele,
and in Ahmose Son of Ibana’s tomb biography
(Goedicke 1995: 103–104; Lichtheim 1976: 12–14).
The Sea Peoples attacked Egypt during the reigns of
Rameses II (r. ca. 1279–1213 BCE), Merneptah (r. ca.
1213–1203 BCE), and Rameses III (r. ca. 1183–1152
BCE). The sea and land battles that Ramses III fought
against these invaders are described and depicted on the
walls of his mortuary temple at Medinet Habu. They
provide the first glimpse of a pitched sea battle in
Egyptian art. Ships seemed to be specifically con-
structed for warfare; the Egyptian examples have
fighting platforms at prow and stern, and lion-headed
protrusions at the prow, which have been described as
both battering rams and figureheads. Sailors and
marines fought ship-to-ship, using swords, slings (?)
Military technology in ancient Egypt 1679
and bows and arrows, during the melee phase of the
battle (MH I, PL.40).
As previously described, at the beginning of Dynasty
25 the forces of King Piye used ships as assault craft to
overwhelm the defenses of Memphis (Lichtheim 1980:
75–76).
As Egyptian maritime contacts widened during the
mid-first millennium BCE Egyptian naval technology
was influenced by other powers in the Eastern
Mediterranean, and in order to compete, Dynasty 26
kings built Phonecian/Greek type war galleys (Shaw
1991: 59–63).
See also: ▶Leather, ▶Wood
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Mining: Copper Mining in the Great
Lakes (USA)
S USAN R. M ARTIN
The roots of indigenous metal mining are ancient in
eastern North America. Evidence for early metal
mining in North America comes from the copper-
bearing regions of the western Lake Superior Basin in
the central part of the continent. Here are to be found
veins of elemental copper dispersed within sandstone
and basalt bedrock, lying relatively close to the surface.
In addition, pieces of loose elemental copper lie
scattered in the glacial drift that is to be found in many
streambeds and riverbanks. These pieces of useable
copper and their parent veins were discovered and
exploited by Native American people as early as 7,000
years ago. Though the first metalworking technol-
ogies of North America derived from the same
technologies that people worldwide universally applied
to reducing and using stone for tools, this long tradition
of using copper for tools and ornaments is the product

of native North American ingenuity. Moreover, the
traces of this industry of copper mining and working
(spoil piles, pits, discarded hammers, and other tools)
were visible to the first capitalist American mining
entrepreneurs of the Lake Superior basin who estab-
lished their own mines on the same old ground that had
proved itself first via native mining efforts (Foster and
Whitney 1850). Archaeological research in the Lake
Superior Basin and other copper-bearing areas docu-
ments the long-standing importance of copper technol-
ogies in the lifeways and practices of the indigenous
people of the continent (Fig. 1).
The bedrock geological history of the Lake Superior
region is fairly well understood (LaBerge 1994); its
basement of pre-Cambrian bedrock, part of the Canadi-
an Shield, is very ancient. The deposition took place
around 1,100 million years ago (MYA), initiated by a
period of roughly 25 million years during which a series
of enormous movements of magma broke through a
cross-continental rift and laid down some 200 extensive
lava flows. This activity was intermittent, and followed
by long periods of erosion and sedimentary deposition.
The resulting strata are deformed by faulting and
subsidence to a broad syncline that underlies Lake
Superior and its drainage basin.
Gases trapped in the cooling lava, especially at the
tops of flows, created porous structures in which later
Mining: Copper Mining in the Great Lakes (USA). Fig. 1 Map of the keweenaw Peninsula, Lake Superior, USA,
indicating locations of prehistoric copper mining pits. Source: Whittlesey 1863.
Mining: Copper mining in the Great Lakes (USA) 1681
precipitation of minerals took place. Fissures in the lava
and interspersed sedimentary rocks provided places
where deposition of elemental copper occurred. The
copper itself “was likely leached from volcanic rocks
deep within the rift by hydrothermal solutions and
was then deposited in these same rocks at relatively
shallow levels closer to the surface. The timing of the
widespread deposition of copper postdated the forma-
tion of the bedrock strata by about 20–30 million years
and occurred from about 1,067 to about 1,047 MYA”
(Martin 1999: 27–28). The result of this activity
comprises the largest body of elemental copper known on
earth, and its relatively shallow and accessible position
allowed people to recover it. The copper-bearing strata
outcrop in a narrow band about 3–6 km wide lying in a
southwest to northeast direction along the Keweenaw
Peninsula and Isle Royale on the western shores of
Lake Superior; the beds also outcrop at the northern
and eastern shores of the lake, and extend, deeply
buried, further to the west into Minnesota. In other areas,
native (elemental) copper is a common though irregular
constituent of copper ore deposits in Tennessee, Georgia,
New Jersey, Nova Scotia, and elsewhere (Levine 1999).
The Lake Superior deposits are quite variable in
actual copper content and in form. In sedimentary
bedrock deposits, the copper is finely dispersed; in the
basalt bedrock the copper is more likely to be found in
M
1682 Mining: Copper mining in the Great Lakes (USA)
fissures, veins or nodules of varying sizes. Masses of
copper weighing several thousand kilograms were
occasionally encountered. The most useful deposits for
prehistoric people were of two kinds: thin veins that
yielded sheets of copper, or fist-sized nodules of
copper. Reducing very large pieces to useable sizes was
somewhat beyond the reach of native technologies, but
smaller pieces of both kinds could be rendered into
tools and useful objects relatively easily. Useful nodules
were sometimes found as constituents of the local late
Pleistocene glacial drift or in redeposited gravel banks
along streams and rivers. This copper-bearing drift is
also widely dispersed across the central portions of the
North American continent, where glacial ice flows
carried copper and other detritus far from their points
of geological origin.
The simplest and least-effort way to acquire copper
in elemental form was to search and dig through the
many beds of glacial drift in the rivers and streams
surrounding the Lake Superior and adjacent regions.
Based upon the many pitted areas observed and
mapped by Whittlesey during the mid-nineteenth
century (Whittlesey 1863), these beds of glacial drift
were systematically explored for copper nodules. The
glacial drift with copper as a constituent was/is
widespread across the central part of North America
(Salisbury 1885), and occurred south and west of Lake
Superior as far as Iowa and the Dakotas.
In addition to such areas, the bedrock veins were also
systematically visited and mined over many thousands
of years. Finding the buried veins was a simple matter
of being observant. In the western Lake Superior basin,
the veins of metal are visible in some surface basalt
bedrock outcrops, particularly those that were scoured
by glacial action. In other areas, erosion and water
action revealed buried veins and nodules. In still others,
companion minerals marked the probable occurrence
of copper veins. Mining pits on Isle Royale investi-
gated by the University of Michigan in the early 1960s
dated to ca. 2470 BCE ± 150 radiocarbon years (Fitting
1975: 238). The early geologists Foster and Whitney
described the pattern of such mining pits on the south
shore of Lake Superior; observing that along “a
distance of nearly 30 miles, there is almost a continuous
line of ancient pits along the middle range of the trap
(sic), though they are not exclusively confined to it”
(Foster and Whitney 1850: 161). The typical pit was
rather shallow and followed the course of a vein of
copper in a small-scale simple excavation. Alvinus
Wood described one that he observed during his
excavations on the Keweenaw Peninsula in the late
nineteenth century. “It was shown to be 14 ft. deep,
having been filled up by the sliding-in of material
composed largely of broken rock, taken out in sinking
the ancient shaft, and left near its mouth” (Wood 1907:
288). According to Wood, the pit measured about 7 ft.
in diameter. In scale, these pits were most comparable
to quarrying a face of exposed rock, similar to the
mining of flint that had been done for millennia, as
opposed to the burrowing or tunneling more typical of
recent hard rock mining.
The ancient mining was done with stone hammers
that people used to crush the bedrock surrounding a
copper-bearing vein. The hammers were, for the most
part, unaltered impromptu tools found in the local
glacial gravel. Mining pits are sometimes most readily
identified by the appearance of many of these expended
(shattered) hammers. The hammers were of various
sizes and materials; most were of basalt or gabbro and
weighed about 2–4 kg, although larger ones were also
used, especially early in the mining sequence. Some of
the hammers had minor surface modifications, such as
a partial or full groove pecked into the circumference to
allow a withe or handle to be attached. Pry bars of
wood or copper were probably also used to loosen the
copper within the vein, and there is some suggestion,
especially borrowed from other primitive mining
locations around the world, that fire might have been
used to weaken the trap rock so that freeing the copper
took less mechanical effort. Experimental work on
Lake Superior prehistoric mining methods demon-
strated, however, that such methods did not measurably
improve the efficiency of removing copper (Bastian
1963). Additional artifacts, including copper tools,
wooden bowls, wooden ladders, paddles, and other
accoutrements of mining were reported to be found in
the mining pits investigated by Whittlesey (1863). The
size of the mining pits and their conformation suggests
that one or two persons could work comfortably within
a pit, and experiments showed that ca. a cubic foot of
trap rock per hour could be removed from a pit face
simply by stone hammering (Bastian 1963: 24).
The native people of central North America fashioned
myriad forms of elemental copper artifacts, using simple
techniques of repeated cold-hammering and annealing.
Despite a search that has already lasted for more than 150
years, there is no unequivocal evidence for intentional
melting, smelting or casting of metal artifacts in the Lake
Superior region or elsewhere in the eastern United States.
All known artifacts were produced in much the same way:
careful repeated hammering and heating to recrystalliza-
tion temperatures. The finished copper objects ranged
from weighty woodworking tools to finely crafted
ornaments and decorative objects. It is probable that the
basic knowledge of elemental metal-working was more
or less common across North America, because many
elemental metal deposits were known and exploited: at
multiple localities in the eastern United States, in Mexico,
in the southwestern US, and along the western rivers of
Canada. The region around the Lake Superior basin with
its large numbers of copper artifacts from local sites
allows the researcher a fairly comprehensive look at how
 Mining: Copper mining in the Great Lakes (USA) 1683

specific artifacts were designed and manufactured.

Modern researchers established, via experimental repli-
cation as well as microscopic studies, the basic outline of
prehistoric metalworking techniques (Clark and Purdy
1982; Leader 1988; Vernon 1990). Using the methods
of cold or hot-hammering and annealing, the artifacts
were carefully fashioned by repeated cycles of heat- Mining: Copper Mining in the Great Lakes (USA).
Fig. 2 Sketch of copper implement, Keweenaw Peninsula,
ing, hammering, and cooling, with carefully directed
Lake Superior, USA. Source: Whittlesey 1863.
blows from a stone hammer creating the final form.
Annealing, or reheating to recrystallization tempera-
tures (in excess of ca. 250–300°C), restores malleability
and was an essential part of the process; otherwise the
hammered copper quickly became brittle and cracked
under additional stress. Metallographic inspection of
hammered copper revealed “the hammering technique,
although primitive in itself, was carried out with
assurance and skill; the sheet metal is often of fairly
uniform thickness even though laminations are some-
times present” (Wayman et al. 1992: 133–34). Larger
artifacts, such as wood-working tools, were hammered
and annealed to render a nodule of copper to a desired
form. Or, copper sheets were hammered to an even
thickness, rolled and then rehammered to consolidate
the copper into a thicker artifact form. Final annealing
was frequently done, and annealing temperatures may Mining: Copper Mining in the Great Lakes (USA).
have exceeded 600°C for some artifacts. Ornaments Fig. 3 Sketch of socketed implement with rivet hold ‘e’ and
(such as beads) and sheets of copper were sometimes cross sections ‘C’ and ‘D’. Source: Whittlesey 1863.
hammered around wooden forms, or mandrels, to
produce a final artifact shape. Other artifacts, such as
M
Hopewellian earrings and decorative ornaments of some within regions close to bedded sources suggest active
Mississippian cultures, were composite artifacts of contact between people of different areas, and at least
wooden cores clad with a thin cover of fine sheet copper the copying of each other’s artifact forms, if not direct/
(Fig. 2 and 3). indirect exchange of finished materials. This pattern is
Finishing touches sometimes included additional well documented for areas east and south of the Lake
limited cold-hammering to harden work edges of tools Superior basin (Brose 1994; Goad 1979; Walthall et al.
such as knives and projectile points. Grinding or beveling 1982). It is also apparent from research conducted in
of work edges was also fairly common, and some the northern Plains, where Lake Superior copper may
artifacts such as harpoons or projectiles were perforated have been exchanged for locally derived lithics such as
to enable the securing of a wooden shaft or handle via a obsidian and catlinite (Vehik and Baugh 1994). Other
copper rivet. Hopewellian and Mississippian cultures raw materials reported from the western Great Lakes
used elaborate finishing techniques on their ornaments. region that may have been involved in regional and
Decorative items were embossed, cut out, and perforated interregional trade vis a vis copper include hornstone
in a wide variety of forms depending upon the particular (Pleger 1996), Hixton orthoquartzite (Clark 1991),
cultural traditions of the artisans producing the artifacts. galena (Ritzenthaler 1957), Burlington chert (Pleger
Some were finished with a high gloss or polish produced 1996), Knife River flint (Salzer 1986), and marine shell
by systematic rubbing with ashes and abrasives such as (Hruska 1967). Many authors agree that copper was
sand. There is some experimental evidence that prehis- likely widely distributed via trade over vast distances
toric metal workers were able to draw thin strands of (Brose 1994; Goad 1979; Winters 1968). Other authors
copper wire (Cushing 1894). add that trade in perishable items, invisible for the most
There is ample evidence derived from the study of part in the archaeological record, was certainly part of
the physical distribution of worked and unworked the picture; meat, skins, shells, reed mats and tobacco
copper to claim that prehistoric people surrounding the are suggested as important commodities, especially in
Great Lakes communicated with one another, in part, the seventeenth century (Smith 1996). Other less
through the exchange of raw and finished copper tangible commodities and/or motivators to trading
materials. In addition, overall close similarities in activities may have been related to social status, ethnic
finished copper artifact forms that occur among and differentiation, information exchange, and ritual
1684 Mining: Copper mining in the Great Lakes (USA)
knowledge (Martin 1999). There is, at least by the
seventeenth century AD, a solid body of first-hand
reporting that documents the connection between
native ideologies and copper materials, which were
sought after because they were believed to hold the
ritual power to bring good fortune, health, wealth and
hunting success (Kellogg 1917: 105).
The use of copper was widespread in prehistory and
was an important part of the cultural adaptations of the
native peoples of eastern North America, beginning by
the seventh millennium BP and extending until the
advent of European-influenced cultures. The earliest
and strongest evidence for the importance of copper
mining in native American technologies and lifeways
comes from the region adjacent to the bedded copper
deposits of the Keweenaw Peninsula, the southwestern
shore of Lake Superior, and Isle Royale, Michigan.
Here there is material evidence of systematic collecting
for copper within surface glacial deposits as well as
extensive evidence of the activities of hard rock mining
and quarrying by native Americans. The technologies
of mining and cold-hammering elemental copper
have become well understood through the efforts of
experimental (replicative) research and metallurgical
studies. Copper was an integral part of the technologi-
cal, social and ideological experiences of the region’s
first people, and was equally significant as a material
from which to fashion a tool, a social interaction
or a ritual transaction. Copper’s significance included
social reckoning as expressed in burial and in de-
corative contexts among peoples of many regions and
cultures, as well as social interactions as expressed
through trade contexts, and finally within religious
representation as expressed in elaborate beliefs about
its ritual power.
See also: ▶Pueblo Indian Adaptations of Spanish
Metallurgy
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Beukens, R. P., et al. Radiocarbon Dating of Copper-
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---. Middle Woodland Cultural Development in the Straits of
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---. Social Complexity, Trade, and Subsistence During the
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Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia
D IETRICH K LEMM , R OSEMARIE K LE MM
After an early period around 4,000 BCE, during which
gold nuggets were collected in some Pleistocene wadi (a
valley, ravine or channel that is dry except in the rainy
season) grounds and perhaps some native copper was
also collected in superficial altered copper sulphide-
containing quartz veins, real metal mining started in
Egypt from around 3,000 BCE. Until that time tools
and weapons in early Egyptian culture were generally
based on stone tools such as flint knives, arrow- and
spearheads, scrapers and axes and hammers of hard
stone. The few predynastic copper artefacts, like small
tools and fishing hooks, may have been made from such
copper sheets in altered copper sulphide-containing
quartz veins but also from scanty imports.
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1685
It is not clear whether copper or gold mining started
first in Egypt; most probably both started contempora-
neously.
Copper Mining in Ancient Egypt
Fig. 1 shows the positions of the various copper
production sites mentioned in the text. Pre- to early-
dynastic (ca. 3,200–2,600 BCE) gold mining has been
reported from only a few sites in the Egyptian Eastern
Desert, such as Wadi El-Urf near Ras Gharib, Abu
Mureiwat near Safaga, Bokari and Higalig in the
Central Eastern Desert (Klemm and Klemm 1994). But
only in Higalig do remains of early waste dumps with
malachite-stained granitic rocks give some hint to
copper mining during those early times.
Convincing arguments for Old Kingdom copper
mining were found in Buhen south of Wadi Halfa at
the western bank of the river Nile, where copper
furnaces of the fourth and fifth dynasty were excavated
(Emery 1963). But the nearest copper mine in that region
is Um Fahm some 80 km south and 30 km inside the
eastern Desert (Figs. 2 and 3). In Quban, at the mouth of
Wadi Allaqi, copper slags from the Middle Kingdom
were discovered (Emery and Kirwan 1936). The next
copper mine is Abu Seyal, again about 80 km away in a
tributary of Wadi Allaqi. Unfortunately this site is
archaeologically very poorly known, but it seems that
copper mining here dates back at least until Middle M
Kingdom times. Also very poorly archaeologically
studied is the copper mine of Umm Semiuky in the
Southern Eastern Desert of Egypt. The site was covered
up during careless early twentieth century copper mining
with modern shafts, which also destroyed possible
underground operations. Thus, no clear information
concerning ancient exploitation of this site is available.
In the Central Eastern Desert of Egypt, in Umm
Soleimat (Fig. 4), Old Kingdom to Middle Kingdom
copper mining has been detected (Klemm and Klemm
1994). Middle Kingdom copper mining settlement with
small furnaces in Wadi Dara (Northern Eastern Desert
of Egypt) was confirmed (Castel and Mathieu 1992).
Mining techniques did not vary significantly during
the various ancient periods. They started with open
cast trenches, following the direction of the copper-
containing quartz veins within which the primary copper
ores were chalcopyrite (CuFeS2) occasionally digenite
(Cu2S) and a few others. These copper minerals were
leached by water and, whether directly in the quartz
vein itself or in the joint systems of the host, rocks
re-precipitated as copper carbonates, mainly as mala-
chite (Cu2[(OH)2/CO3]) or, very rarely, as azurite
Cu3[OH/CO3]2. Only these carbonates were usable for
the ancient metallurgists.
Mining tools for metal mining were until the New
Kingdom exclusively of stone. After that bronze
1686 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 1 Topographic map of Egypt and border countries with position of copper mines
worked during ancient times (black stars).
chisels, and from Ptolemaic times on, iron and steel
were used in metal mining. They mined not only the
copper carbonate containing quartz ore, but also the
malachite filled joint systems in close vicinity to
the veins within the host rocks.
Because of the necessary superficial alteration of
the primary copper sulphide minerals, the depth of the
trenches reached a maximum about 20–25 m, but they
could be deepened when it turned out that the vein
might be even richer, e.g., gold bearing.
Apart from imports from Cyprus, mainly during the
New Kingdom, the main sources of copper in ancient
Egypt from at least the Old Kingdom but probably also
from pre-dynastic times on, was the Sinai (Lucas and
Harris 1962). In Magharah (southwest of the Sinai
Peninsula about 16 km from the turquoise mining site of
Serabit el-Khadim) copper mining dates back at least until
the third dynasty. In the nearby Wadi Nasb, various
inscriptions give evidence of copper mining from the
twelfth until the twentieth dynasties. Predynastic copper
production was reported (El Gayar and Rothenberg 1995)
from Wadi Ahmar, west of Bir Nasb with slags and
remains of ancient smelters. Quite a number of other sites
was reported (Lucas and Harris 1962) with heaps of
copper slag also close to Serabit el-Khadim. The most
important copper mining site is Timna, which today is in
Israel, not far north of Eilat. The work of Rothenberg et.
al. (1988, 1990) gave intensive insight not only to the
special mining techniques of this site but also to smelting
procedures. According to Rothenberg (1988), copper

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 2 Copper
bearing shear zone of Um Fahm in northern Sudan. Note the
green coloured remains of malachite in the ancient mine.
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 3 Remains of an
ancient workers’ settlement in Um Fahm (northern Sudan).
The two house types indicate cooperation of Nubian (round
huts) and Egyptian (rectangular huts) miners at this site.
workings at this site probably started during the second
part of the fourth millennium BCE. In contrast to the
Eastern Desert of Egypt, where the copper mineraliza-
tions are from hydrothermal quartz vein systems, the
Timna ore occurs exclusively as malachite impregnation
pockets in sandstone.
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1687
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 4 Copper-gold
mining site of Umm Soleimat in the Central eastern Desert of M
Egypt. Note the green remains of malachite in the host rock.
Gold Mining in Ancient Egypt
In addition to copper mining, more than 250 gold
production sites in the Eastern Desert of Egypt and
the Nubian Desert of Northeast Sudan were located
(Klemm and Klemm 1994; Klemm et al. 2001).
Gold Production in Predynastic and
Earlydynastic Times
Discoveries of gold artefacts, dating back as far as
predynastic times (about 3500 BCE) demonstrate that
gold production must have taken place in Ancient Egypt
(Kroeper and Wildung 1994). Statistical analysis of the
geological environments around pre- and early dynastic
mining sites indicate unambiguously that the earliest
prospectors concentrated their mining activities on
well-selected geological targets of gold-enriched quartz
veins, mainly in granodioritic rims of Neoproterozoic
granitic intrusions, belonging to the so-called older and
younger granites of the Eastern Desert. Furthermore,
discoveries of the oldest mining tools are connected to
mining sites associated with superficially altered quartz
vein systems, which originally contained a variable
1688 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 5 Predynastic
gold mine of Hagalig in the southern Central Eastern Desert
of Egypt. Note the smooth host rock walls of the extracted
gold containing quartz vein due to the use of the calabash type
two-handed stone hammers (Fig. 6).
copper-sulphide mineralization that is almost complete-
ly leached out and which has been re-deposited as
typical green malachite within the host rock’s joint
system. This green staining guided early prospectors not
only to copper but also to the auriferous quartz veins.
Gold mining in Ancient Egypt started in pre- and
earlydynastic times with open pits and moderate
underground activities (Fig. 5). During this early
period, the gold-bearing quartz veins were crushed
in situ to a fine powder fraction by huge calabash-
shaped stone hammers of 6–10 kg weight, which must
have been held with both hands (Fig. 6). In this way the
gold slivers within the quartz were liberated for later
processing. This mining method formed conspicuous
smooth surfaces, both at the walls and the stopes (a
step-like part of the mine where minerals are being
extracted) of the underground operations.
Gold Production in Old and Middle Kingdom Times
During the Old (2700–2160 BCE) and Middle
Kingdom (2119–1794 BCE) the previously described
prospecting method of searching for malachite staining
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 6 Calabash type
andesitic stone hammers from Hagalig, Eastern Desert of
Egypt, of 6–10 kg weight with which the gold bearing
quartz veins and vein near host rocks were smashed down
to powder size.
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 7 Andesitic
stone axes with grooved notches for a forked wooden stick
from Bokari mining area in the Central Eastern Desert of
Egypt used mainly in Old Kingdom gold mining sites.
in the host rocks continued, but in addition hematite-
enriched quartz veins (in places with barite) became
important for exploration and, in the case of gold
discovery, for subsequent mining targets.
Old Kingdom gold mining techniques continued with
in situ crushing of the gold-bearing quartz vein systems,
but two new basic types of stone hammers were
developed: an oval stone axe of 2–5 kg weight (Fig. 7)
with a chiselled notch for a forked wooden stick and a
more or less cylindrical one-handed stone hammer with
a ergonomically formed handle (Fig. 8). With these
new mining implements, a more effective exploitation of
the auriferous quartz veins was established.
During the Middle Kingdom this tool inventory
continued, but additional stone mortars were intro-
duced, allowing for the lumpy quartz ore to be crushed
first to about pea-sized grains and then to a powder
fraction. Again, no archaeological evidence for further
gold recovery treatments during this period has been

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 8 One-handed
stone hammer from El Sid mine/Central Eastern Desert with a
chiselled, ergonomically formed handle used in Old and
Middle Kingdom gold mining sites.
discovered, but the remark of the nomarch (provincial
ruler) Ameni, who is quoted in his Beni Hassan tomb
as having said “I forced their (Nubian) chiefs to wash
the gold” (Newberry 1893) gives a clear hint that
hydro-metallurgical concentration processes were well
established during these periods.
In Fig. 9, a few gold mining sites for both pre- and
earlydynastic times and Old and Middle Kingdom
periods are shown. However, quite a few of the early
mining sites might have been so intensively overlaid by
later operations that today no older surface remains are
still visible.
Gold Production in New Kingdom Times
From the New Kingdom (1550–1070 BCE) onwards,
gold mining operations concentrated more in the central
Eastern Desert, predominantly south of the Qena-Safaga
road, and were also spread over the eastern portion of the
Red Sea hills (Fig. 10). Because of the conquest of
Nubia, exploitation of the Wadi Allaqi area and sites
deep into Northeast Sudan (Fig. 11) also became
possible. Moreover, gold prospecting targets were
significantly enlarged. Quartz vein systems free of
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1689
hematite and green copper aureoles were also success-
fully prospected. More detailed studies of the quartz
vein systems exploited during the New Kingdom
indicate the profound knowledge of the ancient
prospectors. They were clearly aware of the general
structural control of gold-bearing veins. Furthermore,
because of the systematic exploration of remote desert
regions during the New Kingdom, granitic–granodiori-
tic areas in the southern and eastern parts of the Eastern
Desert became new and important prospecting and
mining targets. These were extended to the Wadi Allaqi
and even to Northeast Sudan.
Intensive gold prospecting and processing were
extended to include wadi-working operations, where
gold-bearing quartz samples were systematically pick-
ed from the coarse grained fractions of the wadi
sediments. At these sites, the employment of hundreds
of workers was possible, in contrast to the limited
number of miners in underground workings. This led to
an enormous increase in gold production, documented
by an increase of known gold artefacts.
A radically new milling technique also had a strong
impact on gold production at the onset of the New
Kingdom. Millstones up to 80 cm long and 30–50 cm
wide, with a flat and oval-shaped grinding plane, and
differently sized sets of millstones used with one
or both hands (Fig. 12) were introduced. These stone
mills are similar to the flour mills commonly used in
the Nile valley since very early times (Roubet 1989).
M
The introduction of these flour milling techniques into
the gold ore processing industry indicate that only
from the New Kingdom onwards were the majority of
miners Egyptians from the Nile valley. This assumption
is also confirmed by the predominant occurrence of
typical New Kingdom pottery remains within mining
sites in the Egyptian Eastern Desert, and also in Nubia.
Before milling, the initial lumpy ore was crushed
down to about bean-sized particles with a double-sided
stone anvil of about 30 × 30 cm and a rounded stone
pestle of 0.5–2 kg weight. The separation of barren and
gold-bearing quartz fragments exclusively by eye was
perfected by the workers, as small and uncommon
remaining mine dump heaps in the wadi grounds today
contain only milky white and translucent barren quartz
gravels (Fig. 13).
Separation of gold from the fine-milled quartz powder
fraction was managed by washing as attested by
preserved tailing dumps. At first view these tailings
appear as mostly pink to reddish heaps of quartz sand,
analogous to normal desert sand. Investigation with a
simple hand lens, however, reveals both sharp-edged
quartz grains which are artificial products as well as
remaining gold concentrations of about 3–5 g/t. This
rather high residual gold content unfortunately caused the
destruction of many ancient gold production sites at
the beginning of the twentieth century, when modern
1690 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 9 Map of the gold mining sites in the Eastern Desert with the positions of both Pre-
and Early dynastic times and Old and Middle Kingdom periods (after Klemm, et al. 2001).

gold production started with cyanide leaching of the old
tailings, thus destroying most of the preserved and
untouched original archaeological sites (Schweinfurth
1904).
At quite a few of the New Kingdom gold production
sites, inclined gold washing tables constructed of stone
fragments, consolidated by primitive clay/sand mortar
and with a surface covered by a layer of the same material,
can be observed. The lengths of these washing tables
varies between 2.2 and 4 m, and they are 40–60 cm wide
and 80–100 cm high, corresponding with an inclination
angle of 15–20° (like Fig. 14, but in general much more
ruined).
The question remains, however, as to how the planar
surface of the inclined table was prepared, to separate
the fine-grained gold particles liberated by the grinding
process from the quartz ore. No direct archaeological
evidence exists for this important step in ancient gold
recovery. Because of the lack of any archaeological
relics it might be assumed that the covers of these
inclined tables were of organic materials. Two
possibilities are likely – either a wooden grid or simply
 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1691

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 10 Distribution of the New Kingdom gold production sites in the Egyptian
Eastern Desert. Note the wide activities all over the Desert regions especially within the very southernmost parts around Wadi
Allaqi.

sheepskins, as both were commonly used in the more
recent past for separation of gold slivers and quartz
sand fractions. The sheepskin hypothesis is supported
by the supposition that sheep were available at the
mining sites as food, and further, both the lanolin
grease and the washed fibres of the sheepskins would
have trapped the sharp-edged gold particles whereas
the barren quartz particles were carried off with the
water suspension. The legend of the Golden Fleece,
therefore, may have been of Egyptian origin and of far
greater antiquity than the voyage of the Argonauts.
Finally, burning the pelts containing the gold particles
yields a raw gold product, but obviously no witness to
this last possible step of the gold recovery procedure
remains.
In the early New Kingdom, approximately between
the reigns of Thutmosis I (1504–1492 BCE) and
Amenophis IV (1351–1334 BCE), Nubia was con-
quered and incorporated into the Egyptian New
Kingdom Empire. Most probably the name Nubia is
taken from “nub”, the ancient Egyptian word for gold.
Along the river Nile in Nubia, panning techniques most
1692 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 11 Distribution of the New Kingdom gold production sites in Northeast Sudan.
Note the concentration of the sites along the river Nile, but also the widely scattered localities all over the vast distances of the
Nubian Desert.

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 12 New
Kingdom millstones with a flat and oval-shaped grinding
plane and differently sized sets of millstones used with one or
both hands. These stone mills are similar to the flour mills
commonly used in the Nile valley since very early times.
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 13
Remaining New Kingdom waste dump heaps from wadi
workings at Umm Garaiyat, Wadi Allaqi, southern Eastern
Desert, Egypt. Note that parts of the wadi ground became
flooded later, destroying most of the ancient works.

probably increased gold production in the New
Kingdom (Vercoutter, 1959). As mentioned above,
the Middle Kingdom nomarch Ameni forced the chiefs
of the Nubians to perform gold washing. As alluvial
river gold is still panned today in parts of Nubia,
especially in the area around Shamkhiya, some 30 km
west of Abu Hamed, this or a similar technique may
have been known during Pharaonic times. Inscriptions
on dedication lists at New Kingdom Egyptian temples
like Medinet Habu, where “gold of the water” is
registered (Hölscher 1957), support gold extraction from
alluvial (wadi and river sediments) sources (Fig. 15).
The well-organized housing areas of the various gold-
working sites of the New Kingdom are constructed
mainly of 3–4 roomed houses, with dry stone walls
about 30 cm wide and up to 1.5 m high and, in many

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 14 Two inclined
Arab period washing tables perpendicular to each other with a
rim of light tailing from Heimur/Wadi Allaqi. This type of
washing table has been archaeologically assigned to be in use
from the New Kingdom on, but they might have been in use
even earlier.
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 15 Nubians
bringing gold in pockets and ring ingots. Wall painting
remains in the tomb of Huy, viceroy of Kush (Nubia) under
Tutankhamun, end of 18th Dynasty, New Kingdom.
cases, with a front terrace (Fig. 16). The lack of any
protective enclosing walls indicates that during this
period the Eastern Desert of Egypt was peaceful and
under the direct control of Pharaonic Egypt. In Nubia,
starting from Wadi Allaqi, this peaceful situation
became changed at places. At Umm Garaiyat the New
Kingdom settlement is protected by a large enclosure
wall, and at other sites the New Kingdom settlements are
hidden in side wadis, such as at Duweishat and Abu Sari.
Other New Kingdom gold production sites further to the
south, like Sai Island, Shamkhiya, Tanta and Mograt
Island seem to have been operated only within strongly
fortified settlements.
This latter assumption is based on the observation that
almost all of the more southerly New Kingdom gold
production sites today are only indirectly recognizable,
as the typical New Kingdom stone mills and crusher
stones are mainly incorporated into the walls of far later
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1693
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 16
Remains of a many-roomed stone house from the
New Kingdom settlement of Abu Sari gold mining site,
Sudan.
medieval fortifications of the Christian kingdom of
Makuria. The most probable interpretation is that these
fortifications are nothing less than rebuilt earlier
defensive installations from New Kingdom times. This
assumption is supported by a site called Ras el-Gazira at
the westernmost part of Mograt Island (near Abu Hamed
in Sudan), where a relatively untouched New Kingdom
gold production site is directly protected by an
impressive stone fortification with an extended field
of rock palisades towards the open eastern plain of
the island. Here, as at the other sites, mostly only scanty M
ceramic remains are detectable as surface inventory, but a
detailed archaeological excavation is urgently required.
Mining technique improved significantly in New
Kingdom times, mainly with the introduction of bronze
chisels, which allowed a much more selective separation
of the gold-bearing quartz generations of a multiphase
quartz vein from the barren parts of the host rocks. The
miners selectively followed the most promising ore
shoots, which resulted locally in a somewhat chaotic
pattern of underground operations. Fortunately, in most
mines supporting pillars ensured the safety of the
ancient miners. During the New Kingdom no sophisti-
cated ventilation of the underground operations was
developed, limiting the maximum depth of operations to
about 30 m, the maximum depth for maintaining a
sufficient oxygen level by normal circulation for men
and burning oil lamps.
In Figs. 10 and 11 the distribution of the many
New Kingdom gold production sites in Egypt and
NE Sudan shows the very extensive gold production
operations carried out during these times. It should be
emphasised that in Nubia these activities were restricted
only to the rather limited period between the reign of
Thutmosis III and Amenophis III. From the government
of Amenophis IV onwards, throughout the Ramesside
(about 1300–1100 BCE) period, no archaeological
evidence for Pharaonic gold mining within the Nubian
1694 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 17 Distribution of Ptolemaic, Roman–Byzantine gold production sites in the
Eastern Desert of Egypt. Note that only in the central parts of the Eastern Desert during Ptolemaic times did gold production
activities take place. Note further the sparse Roman–Byzantine sites (after Klemm, et al. 2001).

Desert, south of Wadi Allaqi has been detected. In the
Egyptian Eastern Desert, primary New Kingdom gold
production started early in the 18th Dynasty and
collapsed completely by the end of the Ramesside
period; it seems to have been suspended throughout the
entire Late Period, until early Ptolemaic times.
Gold Production in Ptolemaic (Greek) Times
It is very likely that in Ptolemaic and also in Roman times
essentially no new prospecting strategies were developed
and that only the ancient New Kingdom Pharaonic
mining sites were reorganized and partly mined out. The
mining was again limited by underground shaft termina-
tion at a final ventilation depth, approximately 30 m
below surface. Only those mines which were located
close to the desert roads (Murray 1925) were further
exploited or re-established in Ptolemaic and Roman
times (Fig. 17). Based on Agatharchides, reported by
Diodor III, 12, gold mining took place in the southern
part of Egypt, close to the “border of Ethiopia”. In spite of
justified doubts about the authenticity of Agatharchides’

description (Woelk 1966) it is generally accepted that
gold mining took place in the Wadi Allaqi district during
Ptolemaic times, although the exact area is not mentioned
literally. Recent investigations (Klemm, Klemm, and
Murr 2001) within the Wadi Allaqi area, contrasting
Castiglioni et al. (1995), did not confirm any Ptolemaic
mining site, and it is most doubtful whether during that
period any gold mining activity was feasible in this area,
because of the aggressive desert tribes dominating the
entire southern Eastern Desert and reaching deep into
what is now Northeast Sudan (Updegraff 1982).
A dramatic improvement in milling technique and ore
processing was introduced by the Ptolemaists. They
used concave-shaped millstones of 70–80 cm length
and 30– 40 cm width, with parallel incised, about 1 mm
deep grooves on the milling plane. Semi-circular two-
lugged millstones of 5–10 kg weight were moved by
hand over the grinding plane, milling the pea-sized
crushed quartz into a powder fraction and setting free the
fine gold slivers (Fig. 18). With this swinging milling
method the whole process was about five times more
effective than earlier methods. For crushing, the old
anvil and pestle system remained, but with an enlarged
size of the crusher stone.
Most probably this new design of a concave-shaped
milling stone is not an original Greek invention. It may
have been derived from the Minoan island of Crete,
where this mill type has been excavated in the Minoan
cities of Gournia and Festos. Based on the Greek
mining experience, Ptolemaic underground mining in
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 18
Concave-shaped Ptolemaic gold mill with a two-handled
milling stone, together producing a swinging milling
technique and thereby increasing the fineness of the quartz
ore powder fraction. Gidami gold mining site, Eastern
Desert, Egypt.
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1695
Egyptian gold mines became significantly improved.
Thus, in gently dipping gold quartz vein workings,
dome-shaped mine ceilings allowed the reduction of
supporting pillars to distances of 4–6 m, which
increased the minable output.
Another important improvement was the adaptation
of circular concentration washing plants from the
Laurion mining district in Attica, as described in detail
by Conophagos (1980). It became possible to process
primary gold-bearing sulphidic ores with pyrite, chal-
copyrite, galena, sphalerite and arsenopyrite, hitherto
not extractable. Remains of such concentration plants
(Fig. 19) are well preserved at Daghbag, Bokari and, in
spite of recent destruction, also at Barramiya.
The reasons for the reduced Ptolemaic gold mining
activities in only the Central Eastern Desert of Egypt
are not reported in historical documents, but we know
from Roman sources that large parts of the Eastern
M
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 19 Remains of a
circular heavy mineral concentrator from Daghbag gold mine,
Eastern Desert, Egypt, introduced during Ptolemaic times into
Egyptian gold ore processing, but originally designed in the
Laurion district, Attica, Greece.
Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 20 Cylindrical
stone mills for gold milling (quern) from Hashai, Sudan. A
Celtic invention, they were imported by the Romans into
Egypt and were still used as gold mills in early Arab times.
1696 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 21 Distribution of the gold production sites in the Egyptian Eastern Desert during
early Arab times. Note the extension to the very south of the desert region.

Desert and Nubia were difficult to subdue because of
the aggressive attitudes of the local nomadic tribes
(Sidebotham 1991), who the Romans called Blem-
myes. The Bisharin tribes inhabiting this region today
are regarded as their descendants, and still habitually
carry dangerous swords and daggers.
Gold Production during Kushitic Times in Nubia
In Nubia quite a few New Kingdom gold mining sites
became reworked later, reusing the older tools,
especially the stone mills. At these sites one can observe
that the typical, rather flat New Kingdom oval, trough-
shaped stone mills bear a distinct deeper secondary
concavity, indicating a different and later type of
handling of the milling technique.
The most probable age for renewed mining of these
sites was during the strong Kushitic Kingdom (about
800–400 BCE). Unfortunately, at these sites only local
Nubian ceramics, hard to assign to a distinct period,
have been found and more detailed excavations are
needed to yield a better chronology. The relatively few
sites where this reworked millstone variety, dating to
the Kushitic period, was identified, might not have

Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Fig. 22 Distribution of the gold production sites in the northeastern Sudan (Nubian
Desert) during early Arab times. Note that the Arab gold workings never reached the river Nile regions.
been the only gold source of this time, because washing
of gold took place in Nubia at least since Middle
Kingdom times.
Gold Production in Roman and Byzantine Times
During Roman and Byzantine times, gold production
decreased dramatically because of continuous attacks by
the desert tribes of the Blemmyes. The Roman presence
in the Eastern Desert was restricted exclusively to well-
protected desert roads, with fortifications spaced at
about a day’s walk. It became economically ineffective
to protect the many gold mining sites scattered all over
the desert. Only a few highly productive sites close to
protected roads remained operable during Roman times.
In spite of the highly evolved Roman prospecting
experience, the gold mining activities in the Eastern
Desert dropped nearly to zero in contrast to other regions
of the Roman Empire.
The final improvement in the effectiveness of gold
processing was the import of the Roman quern
technology (Childe 1943), originally a Celtic invention
(Cauuet 1991). This type of a round mill, of 30–45 cm
Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia 1697
M
in diameter, consists of a basal stone with a disc-shaped
hollow in which a round convex upper turning stone
was fitted that had a central axial hole and a lateral one
for the handle stick (Fig. 20). The quern produced an
even finer powder fraction with an improved gold
recovery in about a third of the time required by the
earlier method. The crushing stones are of characteristic
small size (about 15 × 15 cm) and were used as both
hammers and anvils. The same tools remained in use
until Arab times and querns are still used today within
rural areas as flourmills.
For Byzantine times, only very poor archaeological
evidence for gold mining exists. Even for the settlement
at Bir Umm el–Fawakhir which was inhabited during
Byzantine times, and despite the assumption of Meyer
and Heidorn (1998), we could find no unequivocal
proof for gold ore dressing during an extended survey.
The Bedouin tribes, dominating the entire Eastern
Desert of Egypt and the Nubian Desert, traditionally
were not interested in mining. This is the same today
(Fadl Hasan 1967), as they refuse any digging in the
ground, including even simple agriculture in sufficient-
ly watered wadi grounds.
1698 Mining in ancient Egypt and Nubia
Gold Production in Arab Times
For the early Arab times no field evidence for primary
underground gold prospecting has been detected and
only existing ancient mining sites became reactivated all
over the entire Eastern Desert. In contrast, in Northeast
Sudan away from areas close to the River Nile, extensive
wadi working operations in secondary gold deposits
were started at many new sites. It seems that the mining
activities during this period became more concentrated
in the southern parts of the Egyptian Eastern Desert
including the Wadi Allaqi and especially in the
Northeast Sudan. The abundant wadi works in second-
ary gold deposits formed part of huge fortified
settlements, and inclined washing tables surrounded
by tailings can be found. According to Floyer (1893), the
peak of the early Arab mining activities took place
from the 10th to 11th centuries AD, beginning under
A. Ibn Tulun (about 990 AD) until the Fatimitic time in
Egypt (Fig. 21), and until about 1350 AD in Northeast
Sudan (Fig. 22). The rich and highly specialized ceramic
finds at these sites indicate different ethnic populations.
We do not know why the Arab gold operations
became paralyzed around 1350 AD. Most probably, the
productive wadi grounds were worked out and the few
underground mines reached their lowest ventilation
levels. Around this time also the Christian Kingdoms in
Nubia collapsed and their population converted to
Islam. Whether this religio-political step has any
connection to the cessation of gold production in the
Nubian Desert must be left for further investigations.
Nevertheless, it might be taken into consideration
that the conversion to Islam opened to the Arabs the
possibility of immigration by systematic intermarriage
with the local Nubian population. Their concomitant
access to the fertile lands around the Nile valley offered
a much better livelihood than the increasingly ex-
hausted gold production sites of the unfavourable
Nubian Desert.
See also: ▶Fishing in Egypt
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 Mirrors: Metal mirrors from India 1699

the craft of making metal mirrors at Aranmula, while

Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India studies were also made by Thomas 1991, Srinivasan and
Pillai et al. (1992). The author documented the making
of metal mirrors from Aranmula in 1991, followed by
S HARADA S RINIVASAN detailed technical and micro-structural studies on
equipment purchased in early 1992 by Dr. Ian Glover
Metal mirrors have a long antiquity in various parts of from mirror makers hailing from Malakkara, also in
the Old World and Asia. Mirrors have had considerable Kerala (Srinivasan and Glover 1995, 1997, 1998). These
magico-religious and aesthetic significance in parts of comprehensive metallurgical investigations on frag-
Asia, for example in China and India. The English word ments of the mirror alloys established that uniquely,
‘speculation’ comes from the Roman words meaning these were made of a binary alloy of copper with 33%
magic for telling the future by looking in a mirror tin. This may be described as a high-tin delta bronze due
(speculum), and mirror divination is still taught in the to its close match with the composition of the pure delta
Tibetan Buddhist tradition. The motif of the celestial phase of bronze, an intermetallic compound (Cu31Sn8)
maiden, deity or dancer admiring herself in a mirror is an of 32.6% tin and the rest copper. It is this composition,
enduring one in Indian sculpture, as exemplified by a approximating to a pure delta phase, which yields
Kushan sculpture of a Yakshi or tree nymph from properties ideally suited for a mirror, since it is a hard,
Sanghol (first and second century CE). stable and silvery compound, which can be polished
Fine bronze mirrors with figurines on the ‘tang’ or with great reflectance. The entire mirror manufacturing
the shank that fit onto their handles are found from process seems geared to optimising the presence of this
ancient Egypt. Early flat, circular or tanged mirrors delta phase, which the copper-tin phase diagram
come from Harappan contexts in the northwest of the indicates forms only within a narrow composition range
Indian subcontinent at Quetta and Harappa in Pakistan of bronze of 32–34% tin at non-equilibrium room
(ca. 2000 BCE) and Dholavira in Gujarat, India. These temperatures (Scott 1991: 95). While this silvery
would have been made of bronze with a low-tin content metallic alloy shatters quite easily like glass, this
(i.e. less than 10%). brittleness is offset not by adding lead but by casting a
Subsequently bronze mirrors of a higher tin content very thin blank, no more than 3-mm thick, which would
came into vogue in various parts of the ancient world. thus cool quickly with fewer heterogeneities. Then the
Low-tin bronze consists of the coppery-toned solid M
solution of tin in copper, known as the alpha phase,
which enhances its strength. However, it has limited
reflectivity, whereas cast bronze with higher amounts
of tin has increasingly higher reflectivity. This is due to
the formation upon cooling of higher tin bronze of an
alpha plus delta eutectoid phase; i.e. a fine mixture of
two solid components, the alpha phase and the delta
phase which a silvery white intermetallic compound of
copper and tin. However, since this delta phase com-
ponent is also highly embrittling, as-cast higher tin
bronze mirrors were usually leaded. Such examples of
cast bronze mirrors with 20–25% tin and 5–10% lead
are widely found from Han China and the Roman world
from the Christian era (Meeks 1993). Bronze mirrors
have been one of the most prolific and exotic of Chinese
objets d’art. The addition of lead improves castability,
but lead is an opaque material that is not soluble in
copper and may have compromised the reflectivity.
At the village of Aranmula in Kerala in southern
India, a unique mirror making tradition survives. Here,
a cast high-tin bronze mirror of 33% tin of highly
specular or reflective properties is made which is
comparable to, if not better than, modern mercury glass
coated mirrors (Fig. 1). This is done by optimising
the presence of the brittle silvery-white delta phase of Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 1 Traditional
bronze while eschewing the use of lead. In an anthro- metal mirror of cast high-tin delta bronze (33% tin) made at
pological study, Mukherjee (1978) briefly mentioned Aranmula, Kerala.
1700 Mirrors: Metal mirrors from India

Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 2 Cast
oval mirror blank of silvery delta bronze mounted on
wooden polishing board.
Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 4 Heated
inverted crucible-cum-mould being removed from hearth
with the lower part containing the metal to be cast. When the
jug-shaped crucible-cum-mould is tipped over the molten
metal flows into a narrow hollow space for the blank created
by two flat disc moulds.

Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 3 Heating of

crucible-cum-mould in a hearth fuelled by coconut husks.

blank is reinforced by mounting it with resin on a

wooden mount for the polishing process (Fig. 2). A
finished mirror from Aranmula consisted of 32.5% tin,
approximating the composition of the pure delta
compound of 32.6% tin. Thus, it is remarkable that
merely by using traditional ‘low-tech’ methods and
materials a rather sophisticated ‘high-tech’ metallurgical
end product is achieved.
At the workshop of Janardhan Achari of Aranmula, a
cleverly made jug-shaped crucible-cum-mould of clay
is used for the casting process. The lower portion Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 5 Polishing
consists of a two-piece clay mould which is connected of cast blank on hessian cloth using the powdered brittle
mirror alloy itself for polishing.
to the neck, consisting of a hollow cup wherein the
metal pieces to be cast are placed and sealed with clay.
Then this closed clay crucible-cum-mould is heated cloth to get a mirror finish (Fig. 5). The hardness of the
neck down on a hearth (Figs. 3 and 4), whereby the delta bronze alloy was found to be between 500–540
metal melts in the neck, and then the jug-shaped VPN, which is harder than normal steel, and thus the
crucible-cum-mould is tipped over so that the molten thin mirror blank could be polished almost entirely free
metal flows into the narrow gap between the oval two- of distortion. Ingeniously, the hard mirror alloy is itself
piece mould so that it solidifies into a thin 3 mm oval used to give the mirror a final polish since it can be
metal blank. The cast blank, which is retrieved by easily powdered, as it is highly brittle. This would
breaking the mould, is mounted onto a wooden handle usefully serve to smooth out and fill in any defects in
and polished over several days with hessian and velvet the cast blank with the same alloy to give the best

Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 6 Micro-structure
of as-cast 33.4% tin-bronze mirror fragment from Malakkara
showing a matrix of silvery-white delta phase with a fine
network of bluish alpha plus delta eutectoid (1000X).
possible mirror finish. The microstructure of an as-cast
mirror fragment recently made at Malakkara with 33.4%
tin showed a structure consisting predominantly of a
matrix of whitish delta phase interspersed with a bluish
network of the alpha plus delta eutectoid (Fig. 6).
Such mirrors yield a precise point image, as they do
not suffer from blurring due to refraction through glass
encountered in standard glass mirrors. The colours
seem to be reflected even more brilliantly. For many
high-tech applications, the type of refraction that occurs
through glass mirrors is unacceptable and ‘front-facing
mirrors’ are used, such as those, which consist of a
layer of softer reflective aluminium under a thin
protective quartz material. However, as pointed out by
T. Poston, the hard Aranmula mirror alloy has compara-
ble reflectivity to these front-facing mirrors and does not
scratch easily; unlike a layered surface, it can be
repolished. Although the mirrors made these days have
a blank which is no more than 7–10 cm along its oval
length, in 1998 the elderly Janardhan Achari, perhaps one
of the last of the meticulously traditional practitioners,
showed a metal mirror with a 30-cm long blank made in
his heyday. (Large modern front-facing mirrors are a
major challenge to make by the deposition technology).
Fig. 7 shows an old metal mirror from Kerala with the
insignia of the Travancore Royal family of Kerala, which
may date to the seventeenth and eighteenth century.
Metallurgical investigations on tiny fragments of the
mirror undertaken by the author at the Department of
Conservation and Scientific Research, Freer Gallery of
Art, Smithsonian Institution in 1998 indicated that the
mirror consisted of almost pure crystals of silvery white
delta phase (32.6% tin bronze) (Fig. 8) with practically no
eutectoid [as agreed by T. Chase, personal communica-
tion]. The absence of the eutectoid suggests that the blank
may have been rapidly cooled. This indicates the high
level of technological accomplishment in isolating the
reflective intermetallic delta compound. This is no small
feat even in modern metallurgical terms. The structure of
the delta phase is that of gamma brass and contains
Mirrors: Metal mirrors from India 1701
Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 7 Old metal
mirror from Kerala showing insignia of the Royal family
(seventeenth and eighteenth centuries).
M
Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 8 Microstructure
of fragment of above old mirror showing that it consists
almost of pure delta phase crystals with very little
inter-granular bluish eutectoid phase (940 X).
icosahedral clusters; the icosahedron being the most
symmetric of all objects (Srinivasan and Ranganathan in
press). Metaphorically speaking, it is as if the inner beauty
of the intermetallic compound mirror stares back at the
onlooker gazing into it (Fig. 9). The shadowy whitish
patterns in that image (Fig. 9) are in fact the crystals of the
predominant delta phase.
This waning handicraft tradition of Aranmula has not
only technological significance but also considerable
sacred meaning. The Aranmula mirror (valkannadi in
Tamil and Malayalam), was one of the eight auspicious
articles or ashtamangalyam set that traditionally made
up a bride’s wedding trousseau from the Nair and
Namburthri communities (Thurston and Rangachari
1909). A Kushan period Jain votive tablet (first and
second century CE) (illustrated in Czuma 1985) depicts
a mirror as part of the ashtamangalyam set. Fig. 10
shows a celebrated sculptural bracket figure of a
madanika or temple dancer holding a mirror in the
steatite temple of Belur, Karnataka of the Hoysala period
(twelfth century), and such depictions are also found in
the eleventh and twelfth centuries sandstone temples of
Khajuraho. [Such mirrors uncannily resemble the thick
1702 Mirrors: Metal mirrors from India
Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 9 Srinivasan
demonstrating image reflected in Aranmula mirror with
whitish crystals of predominant delta phase being seen in the
background.
wooden polishing board with a rear handle from
Aranmula onto which the mirror blank is fixed with
resin for polishing. Indeed, one might speculate that this
could have itself been used as a finished mirror as an
alternative to the current traditional practice of mounting
the mirror blank into a tanged brass frame]. Metal
mirrors are also worshipped in Kerala, where they are
known as kannadi bimba. In a subsidiary shrine at a
temple complex dedicated to the Goddess Bhagavati in
Ernakulam, Kerala, an old large metal mirror is
worshipped as a form of the goddess.
The manufacture of the Aranmula kannadi has been
a zealously guarded secret of all but a handful of
surviving master craftsmen known as acharis. Discus-
sions with them indicate that they believe the craft has
an indigenous origin. Local legends link the history of
the Aranmula mirror to the Parthasarathy temple to
Krishna at Aranmula, one of Kerala’s five most sacred
shrines. One lively story of the origins of the Aranmula
metal mirror was reported in 1992 to Glover by mirror
maker Janardhanan Achari (Srinivasan and Glover
1995). Some bronze craftsmen are said to have
originally migrated from Tamil Nadu to make artefacts
for the Parthasarathy temple. The Raja of Aranmula
Mirrors: Metal Mirrors from India. Fig. 10 Sculptural
bracket figure from Belur, Karnataka showing madanika
or dancer with mirror which resembles the Aranmula
wooden mount for polishing mirror blanks.
had threatened to evict, since they had grown fat and
lazy. A widow, Parvati Ammal, came to their rescue as
she dreamt that Lord Parthasarathy or Krishna had
revealed the secret of making an unusual reflecting
metal. In an interesting twist, not only was the king
placated by the crown made of this material but he also
exhorted the artisans to make mirrors for the auspicious
ashtamangalyam wedding sets of brides-to-be from
this alloy dreamt up by the widow.
As indicated before, the unleaded delta bronze
mirrors of Aranmula are technologically distinct
from mirrors elsewhere, such as the leaded specular
bronze mirrors which were common in China. Rather,
the Aranmula high-tin delta metal mirror seems to draw
from longstanding Indian familiarity with making
artefacts of unleaded binary high-tin bronze which
had previously been little recognised. Metallurgical
investigations were made by the author on vessels from
Iron Age burials and megaliths such as from the
Nilgiris and Adichanallur in Tamil Nadu, datable to the
early to mid first millennium BCE (Srinivasan 1994;
Srinivasan and Glover 1995, 1997) and one from
Adichanallur by Paramasivan (1941). These were to be
wrought and quenched high-tin beta bronze with
around 23% tin, ranking amongst the earliest and most
finely wrought and elegant examples known in the
world, with some having rim thicknesses of no more
than 0.2 mm and with a range of decorations from

fluted or carinated (shaped like the keel or prow of a
ship) shapes, or ringed and floral motifs. Due to the
formation at high temperatures of a plastic beta
intermetallic compound phase of a composition of
22.8% tin (and the rest copper), these specialised alloys
can be hot forged considerably between 600–700°C.
Thereafter, quenching in water results in the retention
of the high-temperature beta phase in a rapid
martensitic transformation, akin to that found in steel,
which is characteristic by needle-like structures in
the metallic microstructure as seen the quenched
structure of an Iron age bowl from Adichanallur. This
yields improved properties of golden lustre, musicality,
toughness and corrosion resistance. Also, quenching
prevents the formation of the low-temperature alpha
plus delta eutectoid phase which due to its embrittling
effect was undesirable in this case.
Vessels and cymbals of wrought and quenched high-
tin beta bronze are still made in Kerala, bearing
similarities in design to the megalithic vessels docu-
mented by the author in 1991 and with Glover in 1998.
Mirrors were amongst the collections from the Nilgiri
cairns (of about 40 vessels each in the British Museum
and the Government Museum, Chennai) and Adicha-
nallur burials from Tamil Nadu of the early to mid first
millennium BCE. One such sample of unleaded 30%
tin bronze was reported from the Nilgiri cairns by
Breeks (1873: 63, 156). From Sonepur in eastern India
an early historic period metallic specimen of 32.4%
tin-bronze was reported (Biswas 1996: 187). Minor
occurrences of tin have been reported in parts of
India such as Hazaribagh in east-central India and in
Karnataka in southern India, while the author reported
old slags from co-smelting copper and tin ores from
the Karnataka region (Srinivasan 1997) which might
suggest that minor local tin reserves could have
been exploited in southern antiquity. Indeed, Maloney
(1975: 26) suggests that tin was one of the items of
export from the Karnataka coast by Solomon’s army
along with peacocks, iron, ivory, apes, gold and silver.
Two unleaded bronze samples of 22% and 26% tin
were reported from the Indus Valley site of Mohenjodaro
(ca. 2500 BCE) (Mackay 1938: 480–81), although
without a metallographic study it is not possible to
conclude if these were intentionally quenched beta
bronzes. From the Bhir mound in Taxila in Pakistan,
a binary high-tin bronze mirror of 25% tin was uncovered
(Marshall 1951: 567–9). A vessel examined by the
author from the Vidarbha megaliths of Maharashtra,
carbon dated to about the eighth century BCE, was a
quenched high-tin bronze with 21% tin, as was another
with 24% tin from the Gandharan Grave Culture of
Pakistan of the early first millennium BCE. Rich finds
of high-tin beta bronze vessels and bracelets have been
found from Ban Don Ta Thailand, fourth century BCE
(Rajpitak and Seeley 1979; Bennett and Glover 1992).
Mirrors: Metal mirrors from India 1703
These show similarities with the Nilgiri and Adicha-
nallur vessels in the ringed and knob-based decora-
tions, although metallurgical comparisons indicate that
the south Indian bowls were much more extensively
hot forged prior to quenching. While trace element
comparisons do not suggest common metal sources,
it is possible that Indianised stylistic influences were
common to southeast Asia together with other cultural
influences such as Buddhism in the latter first millen-
nium BCE. In the medieval Tamil text, Arrichantira
Puranam, kanjanam is used to describe a shining
mirror whilst this word is also used to describe cymbals
(Tamil Lexicon), conveying the metallic lustre of high-
tin bronzes. Thus, it is probable that the Aranmula
mirror making process evolved out of longstanding
metallurgical traditions prevalent in the Indian subcon-
tinent for the use of bronzes of a high tin content.
Significantly, in recent years this skilled and quaint
mirror craft from Aranmula has been awarded a
Geographical Indicator (GI) patent in India.
Acknowledgements
The author would like to acknowledge the invaluable
guidance of late Dr. Nigel Seeley and support of Dr. Ian
Glover, Dr. Anna Bennett and Dr. John Merkel with or
formerly with the Institute of Archaeology, London;
Tom Chase, Paul Jett and Janet Douglas, with or
formerly with the Department of Conservation and M
Scientific Research, Freer Gallery of Art; Prof. S.
Ranganathan and Prof. Tim Poston, of the National
Institute of Advanced Studies, Bangalore; and the
support of the India Foundation for Arts (IFA).
References
Bennett, A. and I. Glover. Decorated High-Tin Bronzes from
Thailand’s Prehistory. Southeast Asian Archaeology 1990:
Proceedings of the Third Conference of the European
Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists. Ed. I. C.
Glover. Hull: Centre for South-East Asian Studies, 1992.
187–208.
Biswas, A. K. Minerals and Metals in Ancient India.
Volume I. New Delhi: D.K. Printworld. 1996.
Breeks, J. W. An Account of the Primitive Tribes and
Monuments of the Nilgiris. London: India Museum. 1873.
Czuma, S. J. Kushan Sculptures: Images from Early India.
Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art. 1985.
Mackay, E. J. Further Excavations at Mohenjo-daro. New
Delhi: Government of India Press. 1938.
Maloney, C. Archaeology in South India – Accomplishments
and Prospects. Essays in South India. Ed. Burton Stein.
Hawaii: The University Press of Hawaii, 1975. 1–40.
Marshall, J. Taxila. Vol. 3. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press. 1951.
Meeks, N. Patination Phenomena on Roman and Chinese
High-Tin Bronze Mirrors and Other Artefacts. Metal
Plating and Patination-Cultural, Technical and Historical
Developments. Ed. S. La Niece and P. Craddock. Oxford:
Butterworth Heinemann, 1993. 247–75.
1704 Monuments in Korea

Mukherjee, M. Metal Craftsmen of India. Calcutta: Anthro- the largest number of dolmens in Asia, but the most
pological Survey of India, 1978. imposing ones as well. They range in time from about
Paramasivan, S. Investigations on Ancient Indian Metallurgy; 1500 BCE to the early centuries AD. Dolmens are
A Pre-Historic Bronze Bowl. Proceedings of the Indian
Academy of Sciences 13.2 Sec. A, (1941), 87–90. found throughout the Korean peninsula, but are far
Pillai, S. G. K. et al. Ancient Metal-Mirror Making in South more common in areas where rice agriculture was
India: Analyzing a Mysterious Alloy. Journal of Metals practiced (Fig. 1). Calling these large constructions
44.3 (1992): 38–40. dolmens is terminology borrowed from Europe, where
Rajpitak, W. and N. J. Seeley. The Bronze Bowls of Ban Don similar megalithic monuments are found, especially in
Ta Phet, Thailand. An Enigma of Prehistoric Metallurgy. Western Europe. In Korea they are called koindol.
World Archaeology 11.1 (1979): 26–31.
Dolmens are characterized by several standing
Scott, D. Metallography and Micro-structure of Ancient and
Historic Metals. Singapore: Getty Conservation Institute. stones propping up a capstone that covers and extends
1991. beyond the vertical stones. A single stone standing
Srinivasan, R. Samvad India Foundation ▶http://www. alone, without touching another stone, is called a
samvadindia.com/main.php?pg=guest&art=raman menhir. Various typologies of Korean dolmens have
Srinivasan, S. High-Tin Bronze Bowl Making from been proposed, sometimes dividing dolmens into as
Kerala, South India and its Archaeological Implications. many as seven different types. The simplest division,
South Asian Archaeology 1993. Ed. A. Parpola and
P. Koskikallio. Helsinki: SuomalainenTiedeakatemia. and the most obvious, is between the table type, which
1994. 695–705. stands above the ground usually on four upright stone
---. The Composition of Bronze Slags from Kalyadi in South slabs with a larger capstone balanced upon them, and
India, and the Implications for the Problem of Tin in
South Indian Antiquity. Archaeological Sciences 1995.
Proceedings of a Conference on the Application of
Scientific Techniques to the Study of Archaeology, Liver-
pool, July 1995. Ed. A. Sinclair, E. Slater, and J. Gowlett.
Oxford: Oxbow books. 1997. 136–42.
Srinivasan, S. and I. Glover. Wrought and Quenched and Cast
High-Tin Bronzes from Kerala state, Southern India. Part I.
Contemporary Manufacture, Part II. Scientific Investiga-
tions, Part III. Historical Dimension. Journal of Historical
Metallurgy 29.2 (1995): 69–87.
---. Archaeometallurgical Implications of New Findings of
Traditional Crafts of Making High-Tin ‘Delta’ Bronze
Mirrors and ‘Beta’ Bronze Vessels in Kerala State of South
India, Materials Iss.ues in Art and Archaeology V,
Materials Research Society Symposium Proceedings, Ed.
P. Vandivar, J. Druzik, J. Merkel, and J. Stewart,. Vol. 462.
Warrendale: Materials Research Society. 1997. 81–105.
---. High‐Tin Bronze Mirrors of Kerala, South India. London:
Institute of Archaeometallurgical Studies. IAMS Newsletter
20 (1998): 15–7.
Srinivasan, S. and S. Ranganathan. in press. Non-Ferrous
Metals Heritage of Mankind. Transactions of the Indian
Institute of Metals.
Thomas, A. Aranmula Kannadi: The Enigmatic Mirror from
Kerala. The India Magazine 11 (1991): 50–9.
Thurston, E. and K. Rangachari. Castes and Tribes of
Southern India. Madras. Government Press, 1909.

Monuments in Korea

S ARAH M I LLE DGE N ELS ON
Megaliths in Korea are either single standing stone
slabs (menhirs) or arrangements of standing stones with
a large capstone on top (dolmens). Korea has not only
Monuments in Korea. Fig. 1 This map of Korea is showing
the ancient remains and the contemporary capital, main cities,
rivers, islands around the korean peninsula. Ions of earthwork in
the map mean mainly the enormous turf mounds (ancient king’s
tombs before A.D. 935).

the capstone-on-the-ground type, which covers a burial.
The table type is more like the dolmens of Europe after
which they are named, but it is clear that those that have
only a large stone visible are a close relation. The table
type is found mostly in the northern part of the Korean
peninsula as well as in Liaoning Province in China, and
the other capstone on the ground type is found more in
the southern part of the peninsula, although there is no
clear demarcation line between the two.
The stone slabs holding up the capstone of the
northern type can be as much as two meters high, and
the capstone usually weighs several tons. Most were
probably burial chambers, although little has been left
of their contents. Occasional sherds of red pottery, very
rare polished stone daggers, and tubular beads, would
place them in the Bronze Age. They appear to be
related to cultures from the northeastern part of China
that buried their dead in stone slab tombs. If so, then
these are highly exaggerated slab graves. They tend to
have been erected singly, on heights or in the middle of
plains where they could be seen from afar. This meant
that they were not difficult to locate, and very few of
them escaped looting, in antiquity or later.
Southern style dolmens have a variety of types of
graves underground beneath the capstone. They are hard
to distinguish from erratic boulders, and therefore have
not been plundered at the same rate as the northern ones.
Stone cists are the most common form of grave under the
ground-level megalithic stone. Some of these burial were
untouched, and have yielded small red jars, polished
stone daggers, and tubular bead necklaces, sometimes
with a curved jade as a pendant. These curved jades are
often known in the west by their Japanese named
magatama, but in Korea they are called gogok. Other
graves found under dolmens include large jar burials,
simple pit burials, and burials topped by a “paving” of
small stones. They may have similar grave goods.
In the south, dolmens tend to be found in groups,
often in lines. One may be larger or higher than the
others, or they may seem to be equal in size. They may
be spread along a stream when related to medium sized
habitation groups, but as part of larger villages or towns
they are often found in one or more rows.
Some dolmens have round pits in them that are
known as cup-marks. These could be formed naturally
by pebbles being scoured round and round in the rain,
but some of them appear to have a pattern and may be
deliberately made by a human agency. They have been
related in Korea to various myths which associate the
birth of important people with eggs.
Menhirs are usually found singly or in pairs. They
have been likened to the wooden changsun that used
to be carved in pairs, one male and one female, leading
into Korean villages until the 1970s. Menhirs are less
common that dolmens. It is said that there are several
Moses Maimonides 1705
fields with seven dolmens arranged in the shape of Ursa
Major, or the Big Dipper. The Chilsong, the Seven Stars,
are sacred to mudang, the women shamans of Korea.
Evidence that the southern style lasted into the Iron
Age includes one with a cache of Chinese style daggers
from the third century BCE. However, most dolmens
seem to be associated with Bronze Age pottery and
stone tools. It has been argued that rice agriculture
brought social changes to Korea that are exemplified by
the presence of dolmens. These large constructions
would have required considerable labor, which would
have had to be coordinated. Furthermore, they suggest
permanent leaders, perhaps even chiefs, who had the
ability to mobilize the labor of many people. Large
villages and towns do not appear in Korea when the
main crop consisted of millets; rather, they appear
along with rice agriculture and larger settlements. The
semi-lunar stone knife, sometimes found in dolmens
and always associated with Mumun pottery and Red
Burnished pottery, is argued to be a tool for harvesting
rice. Nelson (1999) argues that rice agriculture appeared
in Korea before dolmens, and that dolmens are related to
the increasingly complex social structure that became
possible with the cultivation of rice.
References
Kim Byong-mo. Megalithic Cultures in Asia. Monographs
No. 2. Seoul: Hanyang University. 1981a.
M
---. A New Interpretation of Megalithic Cultures in Korea.
Megalithic Cultures in Asia. Ed. B. M. Kim. Monographs
No.2. Seoul: Hanyang University. 1981b. 164–190.
Kim Chewon and Kim Wonyong. Studies of Dolmens in
Korea. Seoul: National Museum. 1967.
Mikami, T. The Dolmen and Stone Cist in Manchuria and
Korea. Tokyo: Yoshigawa Kobukhan. 1961.
Nelson, Sarah Milledge. The Archaeology of Korea. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press. 1993.
---. Megalithic Monuments and the Introduction of Rice into
Korea. Food in Prehistory, Ed. Chris Gosden and Jon
Hather. London: Routledge. 1999. 147–165.
Whang Young-hoon. The General Aspect of Megalithic
Culture in Korea. Megalithic Cultures in Asia. Ed. B. M.
Kim. Monographs No. 2. Seoul: Hanyang University.
1981. 65–72.
Moses Maimonides
Y. T ZVI L ANGERMANN
Moses Maimonides (1135–1204) is without a doubt the
single most luminous figure in Jewish intellectual
history since Talmudic times. He possessed profes-
sional expertise in most of the sciences of his day, most
1706 Moses Maimonides
notably astronomy, mathematics, and medicine. Mai-
monides’ early education in Spain, the country of his
birth, seems to have stressed the exact sciences in
particular. He refers in his writings to his studies with
some students of Ibn Bājja. Furthermore, he edited and
taught scientific texts written by two Andalusians, Jābir
ibn Aflah. and al-Mu˒tamir ibn Hūd.
In matters astronomical Maimonides’ chief contribu-
tions concern problems of cosmology and the first
visibility of the lunar crescent. As to the former,
Maimonides devotes an entire chapter (II, 24) of his
philosophical chef d’oeuvre, The Guide of the Per-
plexed (Arabic Dalālat al-H.ā˒irīn; Hebrew Moreh ha-
Nevukhim), to a discussion of the various ways in
which the then-accepted models for planets violate
certain basic principles of Aristotelian natural philos-
ophy, namely that all heavenly motions be uniform,
circular, and about a stationary center. (This problem,
by the way, seems to have vexed Andalusian thinkers in
particular.) Maimonides surveys the proposed solutions
of Ibn Bājja and Thābit ibn Qurra, but he finds no way
out of the quandary. It remains a matter of debate
among scholars whether Maimonides considered the
problem insoluble, since the true workings of the
heavens are a matter for metaphysics and hence beyond
full understanding, or whether he felt the problem had a
solution, indeed, one which would yield a system not
very unlike the Ptolemaic models which he criticizes.
In the closing chapters of the section of his law
code (Mishneh Torah) devoted to the sanctification of
the new moon, Maimonides develops a full, sophisti-
cated method for computing whether or not the crescent
will be visible on the eve of the thirtieth day of
the lunar month. One calculates the “arc of vision,”
which is the sum of the difference in right ascension
between the true positions of the two luminaries, and
two-thirds the latitude of the moon. If this arc is greater
than 14°, or the sum of the arc and the elongation
(the difference in ecliptic longitude between the two
luminaries) is greater than or equal to 22°, the moon
will be visible. As Maimonides himself avers, the
method draws upon written sources, but some of the
procedures have been simplified without doing damage
to their accuracy.
Maimonides forcefully repudiated astrology. Like
nearly all of his contemporaries, he acknowledged a
gross physical effect which the motions and lumines-
cence of the heavenly bodies exercise upon terrestrial
processes. However, he rejected the notion, central to
the astrology of his day, that the stars emanate any
noncorporeal force, and he passionately urged that
neither individuals nor nations allow themselves to be
guided by astrological forecasts.
Maimonides was both a practicing physician and
a medical author. According to his account, he traveled
daily to treat the sick at court, and upon his return he
found his waiting-room full of patients. His medical
writings include condensations of the important works
of Galen, and a number of original books and mono-
graphs. The final section of his own Aphorisms (Fus.ūl
Mūsā, Pirqei Moshe) consists of a scathing critique of
Galen’s views on medicine and philosophy. Maimonides’
medical writings display erudition, clear and concise
formulations, and insight; however, his place in the
history of medicine, particularly against the background
of his contemporaries, remains to be determined.
Maimonides held definite opinions concerning the
history and philosophy of science. Scientific teachings
must be founded upon solid logical demonstrations.
True, observations are vital, but purely empirical
claims – those whose authenticity rests solely upon
repeated observations, but cannot be placed within
any logical framework – are not scientific. This point
is made forcefully in his treatise on asthma, and it
is one of the underpinnings of his rejection of
astrology. Moreover, Maimonides held the view that
science progresses in a cumulative fashion, through the
refinement of existing data and the absorption of new
information; there are no revolutionary leaps. Thus he
was able to have it both ways with regard to unsolved
issues, e.g., the question of the structure of the heavens.
He took tactical advantage of the problem, using the
cosmological quandary to attack the doctrine of the
eternity of the universe (which rested on astronomical
arguments), yet at the same time he felt confident enough
in his basic understanding of the workings of the heavens
to make use of that knowledge as a steppingstone in the
path to knowledge of the Creator.
The most lasting influence of Maimonides, at least
as far as his Jewish readership is concerned, was not in
the specific scientific knowledge that he disseminated.
Rather, his momentous contribution was to elevate the
study of the sciences within the context of the religious
life. According to Maimonides, the ritual performances
and ethical demands of the Jewish tradition have as
their goal the preparation of the individual for
knowledge of God (to the extent that this is humanly
possible), and mastery of the sciences is an indispens-
able step in this process of religious fulfillment. The
observant Jew who follows the lead of Maimonides
will regard the study of the sciences as a primary
religious obligation.
See also: ▶Jābir ibn Aflah., ▶Thābit ibn Qurra
References
Berman, Lawrence V. Perspectives on Maimonides: Philo-
sophical and Historical Studies. Ed. Joel L. Kraemer.
London: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1996.
Bloch, Sidney. Moses Maimonides’ Contribution to the
Biopsychosocial Approach in Clinical Medicine. Lancet
(London, England) 358.9284 (2001): 829–32.

Bos, Gerrit. Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms: Towards a
Critical Edition and Revised English Translation. Korot
12 (1996): 35–79.
Cohen, Robert S. and Hillel Levine. Maimonides and the
Sciences. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000.
Dunn, P. M. Maimonides (1135–1204) and His Philosophy of
Medicine. Archives of Disease in Childhood: Fetal and
Neonatal Edition 79.3 (1998): 227F–8F.
Freudenthal, Gad. ‘Instrumentalism’ and ‘Realism’ as Cate-
gories in the History of Astronomy: Duhem Vs. Popper,
Maimonides Vs. Gersonides. Centaurus 45 (2003): 227–48.
Gómez Aranda, Mariano and Miguel García-Posada. Ibn Ezra,
Maimónides, Zacuto, Sefarad científica: La visión Judia De
La Ciencia En La Edad Media. Madrid: Nivola, 2003.
Gorlitzki, Illy, et al. Maïmonide – Averroès, Une Correspon-
dance rêvée. Paris: Maisonneuve & Larose, 2004.
Hyman, Arthur. Maimonidean Studies. Hoboken: Yeshiva
University Press, 2000.
Izumi, Hyonosuke. Medical Writings of Moses Maimonides:
An Overview. Nihon ishigaku zasshi 47.2 (2001): 283–308.
Kraemer, Joel L. Maimonides on Aristotle and the Scientific
Method. Moses Maimonides and His Time. Ed. E. L.
Ormsby. Washington: Catholic University of America
Press, 1989. 53–88.
Langermann, Y. Tzvi. The Mathematical Writings of
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---. The ‘True Perplexity’: The Guide of the Perplexed, Part II,
Chapter 24. Perspectives on Maimonides. Philosophical
and Historical Studies. Ed. Joel L. Kraemer. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1991a. 159–74.
---. Maimonides’ Repudiation of Astrology. Maimonidean
Studies 2 (1991b): 123–58.
---. Maimonides on the Synochous Fever. Israel Oriental
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Maimonides and Fakhr Al-Dīn Al-Rāzī. Early Science
and Medicine 7.3 (2002): 255–75.
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---. Medical Encyclopedia of Moses Maimonides. Northvale,
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---. Moses Maimonides. Archives of Internal Medicine
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Mound builders 1707
Mound Builders
C ONNIE H. R ICKENBAKER
The subject of mound builders is a vast topic involving
numerous groups throughout the Eastern United States.
Earthen mounds, one of the visible traits of these
cultures, are located from the Gulf of Mexico to the
Great Lakes with concentrations in the Midwest along the
Ohio and Mississippi River drainages. Numerous mound-
building cultures were present across this area and through
time, and the mounds served a variety of functions.
In some places conical mounds were built to inter the
dead while flat-topped pyramidal mounds served as the
foundations for important buildings, such as temples or
chiefs’ residences. Some of the better known mound
sites are Cahokia, near St Louis, Missouri (cultural
phases and occupation between AD 800–1200) of
the Mississippian tradition (Cahokia Mounds), Mound-
ville, Alabama (a dominant center from AD 1250–
1500) (Moundville), and those associated with the
Hopewell Culture (ca. 200 BCE–AD 400), centered in
the Ohio Valley (Hopewell ).
One of the most acrimonious debates of nineteenth
century American archaeology concerned the origins of
the mound builders of North America. The Europeans
first noted the mounds in the late eighteenth century M
and quickly began arguments as to whether or not the
Indians had constructed the structures. These continued
until Cyrus Thomas’ Report of the Mound Explorations
of the Bureau of Ethnology (1894) demonstrated that
Native Americans had built the mounds.
Styles and raw materials used by individuals varied
between cultures based on location and time, but all of
the people expressed their creativity and ingenuity
through manufactured material artifacts. Indian tech-
nology included the actual mound construction, tool
manufacture, pottery, and archaeoastronomy. A brief
discussion of each technology follows.
Mound Construction
The types of soil and amount of material necessary for
mound construction vary with each site whether they
were built in prehistoric or historic time periods. The tons
of material moved from the point of origin to a mound
attest to the division of labor and orderliness of each
culture. Individual basket loads denoting the means
of transporting the raw material arc often visible at
excavations. The number of mounds at a single site varies
greatly from one or two to over 100 as evidenced at
Cahokia. The number of mounds does not correspond
with any particular time period. Watson Brake, the oldest
known earthen works in North America, is composed of
1708 Mound builders
11 mounds all connected by a human-made embankment
(Watson Brake). One example of mound construction is
the serpent mound from the Hopewellian culture which is
nearly one-quarter of a mile long (Serpent Mound).
The people outlined the structure with small stones
and lumps of clay and then dug up tons of yellow clay
and then buried their markers. This mound was not a
place of burial, but a deliberate religious effigy with the
result of a “flawlessly modeled serpent, wriggling
northward, mouth agape, trying to swallow a massive
egg” (Ballantine 1993).
Tool Manufacture
People of the mound cultures made projectile points for
hunting through the process known today as flintknap-
ping. The knapper of a point used an antler hammer or
stream cobble to remove flakes from the larger stone
core. Smaller flakes were carefully removed as the
work progressed on a single point flake. The final forms
evident from some mound sites illustrate the meticulous
work of highly skilled flintknappers across time and
cultures. Changes in projectile point size probably
reflect environmental changes that resulted in variations
in prey species and probably also in hunting techniques.
For thousands of years prehistoric hunters used a spear
or javelin with a point attached to kill their prey. Forms of
points aid archaeologists in dating sites where some
designs are similar across time, while others differentiate
particular cultures. Eventually the atlatl or spear thrower
was introduced, which increased the casting distance and
power of the throws. The hunter held the atlatl which was
shaped like a large crochet needle. The hooked end was
inserted into a shallow socket in the end of the spear
opposite the point and hurled with a smooth gliding
motion. The atlatl was made from available wood while
the atlatl point was bone or stone.
The technology of preparing meat after the kill also
required specialized tools including knives, scrapers,
and cutters. Although similarities in design exist across
time, individual types are indicative of different
cultures. The parent material tells much about a mound
site and whether or not the people were involved in
trading. Some prehistoric mound sites were cultural
trading centers such as Poverty Point (1500 BCE) in
northeastern Louisiana where numerous raw materials
were used by the people for grafting material artifacts.
Trade routes were known to have spanned multiple
state areas as the material artifacts were made from
copper, quartz, jasper, chert, and flint which were
imported into the area (Poverty Point).
In addition to the technology for meat preparation,
the people of the mound cultures prepared the animal
skins for clothing and other utilitarian purposes.
Construction of these items required technology for
removing, preparing, and sewing the skins. A list of the
tools used by people from the different mound cultures
includes hammerstones, polishers, and whetstones.
These tools required little if any modification of natural
materials by the individual. However, once used, the
alterations in shape and signs of wear indicate their
uses. Other tools such as axes, drills, gouges, celts, and
adzes had to be carefully shaped. Drills and gouges
were used to make perforations in the skins, while celts
and adzes were used for cutting.
Prehistoric technology also included the use of bone
to manufacture different tools for the work around a
community. The bone tools were made by breaking and
grooving animal bones and then grinding the bone to
shape the needed object. Fleshers, used to scrape the
inside of fresh animal hides, were usually the lower leg
bone of a large animal. Awls were used for perforating
and sewing along with small hammers, and fish hooks
were made from antlers or bone.
Pottery
The need to transport water and store food necessitated
the use of containers for these purposes. Pottery
making was an integral part of many of the later
mound cultures. The earliest designs were simple and
fewer vessels were made, but as time passed the
designs and technology for pottery making resulted
in works of great beauty and complexity. As with
projectile points and other tools, the designs, shapes,
and materials of the pottery crafted reveal specific
information indicative of particular mound cultures.
In addition to everyday use, pottery was also part of
ceremonial practices including burial. Whether a vessel
or only a potsherd, the pottery yields valuable informa-
tion about the technology of the cultures. Various
tempering materials, including shell, bone, and sand,
were mixed with the raw materials to strengthen it. In
most mound cultures both decorated and undecorated
pieces were crafted and the use of coloring slip was also
part of the technology for some.
Decoration on the pottery, whether bowls, jars, or
effigy pieces, was usually applied before the vessel
was dried. A variety of methods were used which are
significant because the individual expressions reflect
change over time and culture. Decorations were often
made by using the fingertip or a pointed stick or bone.
Potters also used the cordwrapped technique which
required wrapping a paddle or stick with a cord or
woven material and then pressing it into the wet surface
to create a pattern. Check-stamped decorating made use
of carved bone or wood which was pressed or stamped
into the object. As with the technologies of all the
mound cultures, some individuals crafted pieces which
are exquisite works of art illustrating the creativity and
ingenuity of intelligent people from different mound
cultures through centuries of time.

Archaeoastronomy
Native Americans are known for their close associa-
tion with nature and the heavens. The lives of the
people from the mound cultures were also intertwined
with the cycle of celestial bodies as they observed
eclipses and the solstices, devised calendars for cere-
monies, and established planting times. They left
messages of their science and wisdom in their artifacts
and the earthen works which are the visible legacy of
their makers.
Archaeologists have studied two research questions
related to Mississippian cultures. They concern mea-
surement and units of measurements used by the
mound builders/community planners, and archaeoas-
tronomy. Studies have been conducted at Cahokia near
St Louis (list of websites provided) and in Arkansas
at the Toltec Mound State Park (Toltec Mound) to
investigate the utilization of both orientation to celestial
bodies and preconstruction engineering by the mound
builders.
Results from a preliminary study by Sherrod and
Rollingson (1987) show that within the Arkansas
community there is a predetermined spacing of mounds.
The unit is termed the Toltec Module and is measured in
increments divisible by 47.5 m. Alignments of the
solstice, equinox, and stellar positions are evidence that
the mound builders placed importance on the observa-
tion and knowledge of celestial phenomena and the
mounds were positioned to mark these alignments
permanently (Alignments).
Reconstruction planning of the community features
including mound construction is evidenced by both
standardized distance spacing and celestial alignment.
“Interaction among many communities of the Mis-
sissippi River Valley may well have been widespread
with the use of the Toltec Module a reflection of this
interaction” (p. 81).
Questions go unanswered and debates continue
concerning the mound builders. What do the mounds
mean and why were they built? What were the
mechanisms which powered the large exchange and
trading systems within cultures such as Poverty Point?
Also debated is the issue of size of actual populations at
the large ceremonial sites. The study of archaeoastron-
omy and standardized measurements are still in early
research stages and thus the extent of Indian technology
and meaning are still open for further investigation
(Archeoastronomy).
Recent research by Saunders et al. (1994) of four
mound complexes in Louisiana which predate Poverty
Point raises the question as to whether mound
construction technology diffused from a single area
or independently developed within several cultures. In
relation to actual construction of the mounds anywhere,
did their makers build one at a time or were multiple
Mound builders 1709
mounds under construction at the same time? See
below for websites on Watson Brake.
A growing area of research which includes the
mound builders is the archaeology of gender (Gero and
Conkey 1991; Walde and Willows 1991). Interpretation
of archaeological sites has been dominated by views in
which women and children were underrepresented if
present at all in much research. As the mound builders
are studied from more equitable views, questions emerge
on women’s roles as tool makers and hunters. One theme
which unifies the research is the theoretical outlook which
views gender relationships as the fundamental structural
component to social organization.
Peoples in other parts of the world also built mounds
and earthen structures. They frequently consist of only
one structure. Several examples are found in Ireland
referenced as megalithic tombs and include Newgrange
and Knowth (Knowth). Lennart S. Madsen dis-
cussed earthworks in Scandinavia in his presentation,
“The Role of Earthworks in Establishing the Danish
Kingdom – second to thirteenth Century AD.” At the
same Society for American Archaeology 2001 Confer-
ence, Maximilian O. Baldia presented “Monuments at
the Crossroads: Comparative Archaeology of North
American and European Monuments.” Their abstracts
can be accessed via the internet (SAA Conference
2001).
M
References
Ballantine, Betty and Ian Ballantine, ed. The Native
Americans: An Illustrated History. Atlanta: Turner Pub-
lishing, 1993.
Emerson, Thomas and R. Barry Lewis, ed. Cahokia and
the Hinterlands. Chicago: University of Illinois Press,
1991.
Frink, Douglas S. OCR Carbon Dating of the Watson Brake
Mound Complex. An Overview of Research at Watson
Brake: A Middle Archaic Mound Complex in Northeast
Louisiana Symposium. Proceedings of 53rd Annual
Meeting of the Southeastern Archaeological Conference,
Birmingham, AL, 1997.
Gero, Joan and Margaret Conkey, ed. Engendering Archae-
ology: Women and Prehistory. Oxford: Basil Blackwell,
1991.
Jennings, Jesse. Prehistory of North America. 3rd ed.
Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing, 1989.
O’Kelly, Michael. Newgrange: Archaeology, Art and Legend.
London: Thames & Hudson, 1982.
Saunders, Joe, Thurman Allen, and Roger Saucier. Four
Archaic? Mound Complexes in Northeast Louisiana.
Southeastern Archaeology 13 (1994): 134–53.
Saunders, Joe W., et al. A Mound Complex in Louisiana at
5400–5000 Years Before the Present. Science 277 (1997):
1796–9.
---. Watson Brake Objects, an Unusual Archaic Artifact Type
from Northeast Louisiana and Southwest Mississippi.
Southeastern Archaeology 17 (1998).
1710 Moxibustion
Sherrod, P. Clay and Martha Rollingson. Surveyors of the
Ancient Mississippi Valley. Arkansas: Arkansas Arche-
ological Survey Research Series No. 28, 1987.
Thomas, Cyrus. Report on the Mound Explorations of the
Bureau of Ethnology. Annual Report of the Bureau of
American Ethnology. 1894, 17–743. Rpt. in Washington,
DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1985.
Walde, Dale and Noreen D. Willows, ed. The Archaeology of
Gender: Proceedings of the 22nd Annual Chacmool
Conference. Calgary: The Archaeological Association of
the University of Calgary, 1991.
Willey, Gordon. An Introduction to American Archaeology.
Vol. 1. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1966.
Cahokia
▶http://www.state.il.us/hpa/hs/Mounds.htm Illinois Historic
Preservation Agency
▶http://www.mnsu.edu/emuseum/archaeology/sites/
northamerica/cahokia.html Cahokia
▶http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/national/daily/
march/12/cahokia.htm Washington Post: Ancient Cahokia
General Website References
▶http://www.putnam.k12.il.us/hopewell.htm Timeline and
Map of the Hopewell Culture
▶http://www.texasbeyondhistory.net/tejas/ancestors/
woodland.html Caddo Ancestors
▶http://www.placesohio.com/ohio-historic-sites/
SeipMound/index.html Seip Mound
▶http://www.placesohio.com/ohio-historic-sites/
StoryMound/index.html Story Mound
▶http://www.placesohio.com/ohio-historic-sites/
ShrumMound/index.html Shrum Mound
▶http://www.placesohio.com/ohio-historic-sites/
MiamisburgMound/index.html Miamisburg Mound
▶http://www.mississippian-artifacts.com/ The Mississippian
Mound builders and their Artifacts
▶http://www.cr.nps.gov/seac/delta.htm “Ancient Civiliza-
tions – Forgotten Cultures”
▶http://www.cr.nps.gov/seac/moundb.htm The Moundbuilders
▶http://www.nps.gov/ocmu/Macon-Plateau.htm Macon’s
Mississippians
▶http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/sewis/
mound_index.htm Mound and Effigy Building Cultures of
North America
▶http://www.nps.gov/efmo/Effigy Mounds
▶http://www.paganastronomy.net/nahist.htm Ancient As-
tronomers: Prehistoric North American Astronomy
▶http://www.crt.state.la.us/crt/parks/poverty/pvertypt.htm A
Rich Culture Flourished 12 Centuries Before Christ
▶http://www.reisenett.no/map_collection/National_parks/
Mississippi_Burial_Mounds97.pdf Map of Mississippi
Burial Mounds
▶http://www.kennesaw.edu/sga/sites.html Southeastern In-
dian Sites, Parks and Museums
Watson Brake
▶http://www.louisianafolklifefest.org/Articles/2000f4.htm
Ouachita River Mounds: A Five Millennium Mystery
▶http://www.archaeology.org/9801/newsbriefs/mounds.html
Earliest Mound Site
▶http://www.earthmatrix.com/extract76.html The Geometry
of Ancient Sites: A Geo-Grid
▶http://www.mysterious-america.net/ancientamerica.html
Ancient America
▶http://www.southeasternarchaeology.org/vol17-19.html
Southeastern Archaeology “Watson Brake Objects,” an
Unusual Archaic Artifact Type from Northeast Louisiana
and Southwest Mississippi
▶http://www.santafe.edu/research/publications/
workingpapers/98-03-022.pdf Public Architecture and
Power in Pre-Columbian North America
▶http://www.trussel.com/prehist/news171.htm Amateur Un-
covers Oldest Indian Mounds in Americas
▶http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1511/
is_n2_v19/ai_20159529 The Earthmovers – 5,400-year-
old-Native American Mound Complex found in Louisiana
▶http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1200/
is_n12_v152/ai_19851987 Ancient Mound Builders Get
Cultured
▶http://www.cr.nps.gov/seac/watsonb.htm “Watson Brake
Archaic Mound Site,” interpretive charcoal sketch, by
Martin Pate
▶http://www.cr.nps.gov/aad/feature/timeline.htm Ancient
Architects of the Mississippi
Toltec Mounds
▶http://asms.k12.ar.us/armem/hopper/Config.htm Configu-
ration of the Mounds
▶http://www.arkansastravel.com/archives/article.asp?
id=238 Ancient History Interpreted at Toltec Mounds
Moxibustion
S HIGEHISA K URIYAMA
Moxibustion, also spelled moxabustion, is a traditional
East Asian therapeutic technique involving the burning
of tinder made from the artemisia plant. The technique
has three major variants. In one, small cones of the
artemisia are burned directly on the skin; in a second,
some intermediary substance – commonly a thin slice of
garlic or ginger, or a layer of soybean paste – separates
the tinder cone from the skin; and in a third, smoldering
sticks of artemisia, about a half inch in diameter, are held
about an inch to three inches away from the skin. The
last two methods fall under the rubric of “warming” or
“traceless” moxibustion: both heat the treated sites, but
unlike the first technique, they leave no scars. There is,
in addition, a hybrid combination of acupuncture and
moxibustion in which a clump of artemisia is burned at
the protruding end of an implanted needle.
The word moxa comes from the Japanese term for the
artemisia tinder, mogusa. Though the term may have
made its way into Portuguese as early as the sixteenth
century, printed Western language accounts of the
technique began to appear only in the 1670s. For a brief
while, it enjoyed a minor vogue in Europe, particularly
as a treatment for the gout, but ultimately it did not take

root. Still, occasional theses on moxibustion continued
to be presented at European medical faculties into the
nineteenth century.
The details of moxibustion’s origins in China are
uncertain. In the most ambitious review of the subject to
date, Yamada shows that the therapy originally had
magical implications: the aim of cauterization was to
drive out alien, noxious spirits. He argues that by the early
Han dynasty (206 BCE–AD 220), however, moxibustion
had begun to assume a new, quite different identity.
Gradually shedding its ties to demonic expulsion, it came
to be conceived, instead, as a form of stimulus therapy.
The purpose of burning now was to clear blockages in the
flow of the body’s own essences and rectify imbalances in
the distribution of blood and vital breath (qi). Yamada’s
analysis of this change builds upon three theses (1) that
the key to the transformation of moxibustion was the
“discovery,” in the third century BCE, of a series of mo –
vessels thought to carry blood and vital breath throughout
the body; (2) that the theory of the mo first arose in the
context of moxibustion; and (3) that the practice of
acupuncture followed, and was made possible by, the
discovery of the mo in moxibustion.
Yamada’s account may not cover the full story; some
evidence suggests that the experience of bloodletting
also contributed to the rise of acupuncture. But two
points are indisputable. The first is that the earliest
descriptions of the mo – those in the Mawangdui
manuscripts (third century BCE) – concentrate exclu-
sively on moxibustion, and do not mention needling.
The second is that from the Han dynasty onward the
histories of moxibustion and acupuncture were inti-
mately intertwined. More often than not, acupuncture
treatises were, at the same time, treatises on moxibus-
tion. The titles of major traditional texts – from Huangfu
Mi’s Zhenjiu jiayijing (AD 282), through Wang
Zhizhong’s Zhenjiu zisheng jing (1220), to Gao Wu’s
Zhenjiu jieyao (1536) and Yang Jizhou’s Zhenjiu
dacheng (1601) – all evoke needling (zhen) and
moxibustion ( jiu) together in the same breath, as a
compound, zhenjiu. The reason is clear: healing with
moxa entailed burning artemisia along the same mo, and
indeed on the same sites, needled in acupuncture.
Physicians did distinguish between the two therapies.
For Yang Jizhow, in fact, the ability to discriminate
between when and where to burn and not needle, and
conversely, when and where to needle but not burn,
marked the superior physician. Gao Wu’s Zhenjiu juying
(1537), for instance, names 45 “forbidden points” for
moxibustion (sites where treatment was to be avoided or
at least pursued with special caution), but for acupuncture
names only 22. The two lists, moreover, have no points in
common.
Between the seventh and thirteenth centuries,
physicians also composed several treatises devoted to
moxibustion alone. Cui Zhiti’s Guzhengbing jiufang
Moxibustion 1711
(640) discussed how to treat tubercular diseases with
moxa and Wenren Qinian’s Beiji Jiufa (1226) explained
how to deploy moxibustion in emergencies; Zbuang
Zhuo’s Gaohuang jiufa (1128) detailed the special
benefits of burning moxa on the so-called gaohuang
points, whereas the Mingtang jiujing (seventh century)
reviewed treatment sites more generally, identify-
ing for each site the various ailments treatable by
moxibustion.
By slight modifications in technique, moxibustion
could be used either to tonify deficiencies in vital energy,
or to disperse pathological excess. For example, to
tonify, one simply allowed the moxa cone to burn down
naturally; to disperse, the therapist blew gently upon the
burning cone to make the heat more intense. Tradition-
ally, however, the tendency was to deploy moxibustion
primarily as a tonifying technique, and to favor it for
treating chronic disorders.
People also turned to moxibustion to prevent illness. In
his Yaofang (seventh century), Sun Simiao (Sun Simo)
notes that officials going to the regions of Wu and Shu
made sure always to keep several unhealed moxa spots on
their bodies. This, they believed, protected them from
a variety of epidemic diseases. More generally, it became
proverbial wisdom that burning moxa regularly on
special sites like the sanli points of the legs warded off
sickness of all kinds, and promoted longevity.
Moxibustion’s popularity as a prophylactic measure
and as a treatment for chronic complaints drew
M
theoretical support from the belief in its tonifying
influence. But it also reflected a more basic fact: unlike
needling, burning moxa did not require sophisticated
technical skill. Once patients learned where to burn –
whether guided by illustrated books, tradition, or
doctors, then they could treat themselves, or be treated
by family members. Thus, while acupuncture and
moxibustion shared common historical origins and a
common understanding of the body, the sociology of
their practice diverged. Whereas acupuncture remained
largely the preserve of specialists, moxibustion tended
to become part of popular self-treatment. Professional
acupuncturists in East Asia today still make use of
moxibustion, but so do many patients who have never
been needled.
See also: ▶Huangfu Mi, ▶Sun Simo, ▶Acupuncture,
▶Medicine in China, ▶Medicine in Japan, ▶Medical
Texts in China
References
Bai, Chun. Science of Acupuncture and Moxibustion in ‘Si
Bu Yi Dian’ (rGyud – Bzhi). Zhonghua yishi zazhi 32.2
(2002): 92–3.
Goldschmidt, Asaf. Changing Standards: Tracing Changes in
Acu-Moxa Therapy During the Transition from the Tang to
1712 Mummies in Egypt
the Song Dynasties. East Asian Science, Technology, and
Medicine 18 (2001): 75–111.
Li, Jianmim. Fire and the Origins of Moxibustion. Ziran
Kexueshi Yanjiu (Studies in the History of Natural
Sciences) 21 (2002): 320–31.
Lu, Gwei-djen and Joseph Needham. Celestial Lancets: a
History and Rationale of Acupuncture and Moxa. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980.
Wang, Zongxin. [Xu Ren’s ‘Zhen Jiu Jing Yan Fang
(Experimental Recipe on Acupuncture and Moxibustion)’
and its Spread]. Zhonghua yishi zazhi 32.3 (2002): 145–7.
Yamada, Keiji. The Origins of Acupuncture, Moxibustion, and
Decoction. 1st English ed. Kyoto, Japan: Nichibunken,
International Research Center for Japanese Studies, 1998.
---. Shinkyu no kigen. Shin hatsugen chugoku kagakushi
shiryo no kenkyu. Ronko hen. Ed. Keiji Yamada. Kyoto:
Kyoto daigaku jimbun kagaku kenkyusho, 1985. 3–78. (In
Japanese).
Mummies in Egypt
J EHANE R AGAI , G REGG DE Y OUNG
Mummification was practiced in ancient Egypt to
ensure the continued existence of the deceased. At
death, several spirits were believed to be released, the
most important of which were the Ka, the Ba, and
the Akh. A person’s fate in the afterlife, in the form of
these three spirits, was believed to be directly tied to the
continued existence of the physical body.
The Ka, appearing at birth, resembled the human
physical body in all aspects. After death, it remained
in the tomb with the mummified body, acting as a
protective spirit, and fed on the daily offerings
presented at the tomb.
The Ba embodied the personality and individual
characteristics of the person. It also appeared at birth, but
after death was believed to fly off to heaven, returning
regularly to visit the Ka and the body. It sometimes
seems to serve as “spiritual link” between the two.
The Akh, after a silent or dormant existence during
the person’s life, separated from the body at death and
embarked on a journey through the land of the dead,
never to return. All three spiritual elements were
essential for the continued existence of the individual
and their continued survival depended on the existence
of the human body.
Egyptians in the predynastic era, prior to 3100 BCE,
buried their dead in shallow graves under the hot
desert sands. This left the body prey to wild
animals and desert thieves. From the first dynasty
(ca. 3100–2900 BCE) on, the Egyptians built mud
brick burial chambers, but these, too, proved unsatis-
factory because the bodies gradually deteriorated under
the action of moisture in these chambers.
By the end of the Old Kingdom (ca. 2600–2180
BCE), the Egyptians had begun to embalm their dead
through desiccation by means of dry natron (a mixture
of sodium carbonate and bicarbonate). The technique
was later termed “mummification” from the Persian
word mummiya, meaning bitumen or pitch. Corpses
embalmed by the Egyptians took on a blackened color,
and this effect was mistakenly attributed to bitumen.
By the Middle Kingdom (ca. 2150–1780 BCE), the
process was perfect. After death, the body was taken to
the “place of purification,” where it was stripped and
washed in a dilute natron solution. It was then moved to
a special “embalming house” where it was placed on
a large wooden board. The brain was broken into small
pieces by a hooked utensil which was introduced
through the nostrils and penetrated the cranial cavity
by breaking through the ethmoid bone. The brain was
then removed by a long delicate spoon and disposed
of. The empty skull was filled with sawdust, resin, or
resin-soaked linen.
An incision was then made on the left side of the
abdomen and the liver, stomach and intestines removed.
A puncture in the diaphragm also allowed for the
removal of the lungs. The heart was left in situ as the
center in which the good and evil deeds of the individual
accumulated. (A light-weighted heart during the day of
reckoning would ensure resurrection and an afterlife for
the individual.)
The removed organs were washed with a natron
solution, dried, and sealed in Canopic jars (often with a
solution of natron). These jars were eventually placed
in the tomb with the deceased. The empty cavities were
washed with palm wine and packed with sand, straw,
or sawdust mixed with resin or bags of natron. The
body was then placed on a slanting board and covered
with dry natron for 40 days to ensure total desiccation
by osmosis (the skin acting as a semipermeable
membrane).
Following the dehydration of the body came a
ceremonial washing and an anointing with oil. The
cranial and body cavities were repacked with linen
soaked in resin, the abdominal incision was closed, linen
balls were placed in the eye-sockets, and the cheeks
were padded with linen. The body was then coated
with molten resin and subsequently wrapped, beginning
from the toes, in strips of linen arranged in intricate
patterns. In some cases, the body would be adorned with
jewelry, and amulets conferring special protection on the
mummy would be enclosed in the linen wrappings.
The entire embalming process took 70 days, after
which the ceremony of the “Opening of the Mouth”
took place. A priest would symbolically open the
mouth of the deceased. This would be followed by an
elaborate succession of actions and prayers.
The practice of mummification, with some variations
in the process of preparation and wrapping, continued

in Egypt until the fourth century AD, when Christianity
had become the principal religion. The practice then
steadily declined.
References
Andrews, Carol. Mummies. London: British Museum, 1984.
Balabanova, S. Evidence of Cocaine in Ancient Pre-
Columbian Populations from Christian Sayala (Egyptian
Nubia). Journal of Paleopathology 9.1 (1997): 15–21.
Cockburn, A., E. Cockburn, and T. A. Reyman, ed.
Mummies, Disease, and Ancient Cultures. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1980.
David, A. Rosalie. Disease in Egyptian Mummies: The
Contribution of New Technologies. Lancet (London,
England) 349 (1997): 1760–3.
Germer, Renate and Hartwig Altenmüller. Mummies: Life
After Death in Ancient Egypt. Munich: Prestel, 1997.
Harris, J. E. and K. Weeks. X-Raying the Pharaohs. London:
Macdonald, 1973.
Ikram, Salima and Aidan Dodson. The Mummy in Ancient
Egypt: Equipping the Dead for Eternity. New York:
Thames & Hudson, 1998.
Janot, Francis. Une Approche Nouvelle De l’Embaumement
Dans l’Ancienne Egypte: Les Instruments Des prêtres-
Embaumeurs. Vesalius: Acta internationales historiae
medicinae 4 (1998): 13–22.
Koller, Johann. Embalming Was Used in Old Kingdom.
Nature 391.6665 (1998): 343–4.
Leda, A. -P. The Cult of the Immortal. London: Paladin, 1980.
Nerlich, Andreas G. Molecular Evidence for Tuberculosis in
an Ancient Egyptian Mummy. Lancet (London, England)
350 (1997): 1404.
Nerlich, A. G., I. Wiest, and J. Tübel. Coronary Arterioscle-
rosis in a Male Mummy from Ancient Egypt. Journal of
Paleopathology 9.2 (1997): 83–9.
Spenser, A. J. Death in Ancient Egypt. London: Penguin,
1982.
Tapp, E. The Leeds Mummy. Medical Historian: Bulletin of
Liverpool Medical History Society 9 (1997): 3–13.
Taylor, John H. Unwrapping a Mummy: The Life, Death and
Embalming of Horemkenesi. 1st ed. Austin: University of
Texas Press, 1996.
Taylor, J. The Egyptian Way of Death Redisplayed. British
Museum Magazine: Journal of the British Museum Society
33 (1999): 20–4.
Mummies in South America
B ERNARDO A RRIAZA , V ICKI C ASSMAN
The Atacama desert, along the west coast of Chile
and Peru, is an area of extreme aridity which has
provided for unique preservation of human remains
and cultural materials from thousands of years ago. The
incredible preservation, especially of human mummies,
has furnished us with a glimpse at mortuary traditions
and rites associated with the first settlers beginning
Mummies in South America 1713
at least 9,000 years ago, through to the arrival of the
Spanish Conquistadors.
The Chinchorros fishermen, who lived from 7000 to
about 1500 BCE, are of special interest because from
5000 to 1700 BCE, they practiced artificial mummifica-
tion of their dead. The Chinchorro people lived in the
Atacama from Ilo in Southern Peru to Antofagasta in
Northern Chile, and occupied about 900 km of the
Pacific coast of South America. The area surrounding
the modern city of Arica, in northern Chile, was where
Chinchorro artificial mortuary practices originated.
From this area artificial mummification customs (or
intentional interventionary preservation) spread north
and south. The bodies were prepared for the journey to
the afterlife in remarkable ways. For example, some
bodies were completely disarticulated and then wholly
reassembled and sculpted. Various styles were practiced
through time, such as Black, Red, and Mud-Coated
styles. All these styles have two things in common:
human intervention in the preservation of the cadaver,
and an extended body position for interment.
The Black Mummies were the oldest and most
complex, beginning about 5000 BCE and lasting for
about two millennia. To make the Black Mummies,
the morticians completely cleaned and separated the
deceased’s bones and soft tissue. Subsequently, the
skeletons were reconstructed, and the bodies rebuilt into
statue-like rigid forms, using long sticks for internal
reinforcement along the extremities and spine. Reed
M
cords bound the bones and sticks together, and a light
gray ash paste was applied to stuff and model the
individual. The skin was often replaced, and sometimes
pieces of sea lion skin were added when the person’s
own skin did not suffice after drying. Facial features and
sexual organs were insinuated. A short wig of human
hair was added to the head and secured with cords. Then
the morticians painted the entire body with a black
manganese paste, which was polished to a high sheen,
hence the name Black Mummies.
In contrast, the Red Mummies often were made
without disarticulation of the body. Instead incisions
were made to remove organs. Long sharpened sticks
were pushed under the skin of arms, legs, and the spine
to add rigidity, and body cavities were stuffed. After
suturing the incisions, the body was painted with red
ocher, but the facial mask was often painted black. In a
few cases the skin was replaced bandage style. A wig
made of long black human hair was added to the head
and secured with what looks like a red clay motorcycle
helmet. This Red style appeared about 2000 BCE and
lasted about 500 years (Fig. 1).
After the Red style, artificial mummification techni-
ques were simplified. The bodies were not eviscerated;
they were simply encased in a thick cement-like coating
that prevented decomposition. This Mud-coated style
lasted only a couple of centuries. After this period,
1714 Munīśvara
Mummies in South America. Fig. 1 Chinchorro child in
the Red Mummy Style (drawing by Raul Rocha, used with
permission of the author).
ca. 1700 BCE, the Chinchorro bodies were still buried in
an extended position, but were preserved only through
the desiccating forces of the environment; they were no
longer artificially mummified.
Often the Chinchorro mummies were enshrouded in
twined reed mats and buried in shallow pit graves in
groups of about six bodies of various ages and both
sexes. The cemeteries were located in the sandy coastal
dunes beyond the reach of the tides. The few grave
goods accompanying the dead were fishing lines,
shellfish and cactus fishing hooks, harpoons, bone and
stone tools, stone mortars, and gill nets. No individual
had a substantially larger number of grave goods that
would set him apart as socially above the others. The
Chinchorros also received similar mummification and
burial treatments regardless of age and sex. Even
fetuses were mummified. Apparently everyone was
treated equally, with the same mortuary treatment, as
would be expected in an early egalitarian society.
Although Chinchorros were simple fisherfolk without
knowledge of ceramics, agriculture, or loom weaving,
their spiritual and religious life must have been highly
sophisticated, as the mummies have demonstrated. The
sophistication of the mortuary treatment, the repair of the
mummies, and the millennial duration of their practices,
all indicate that mummification was central to the social
lives of Chinchorro people. It appeared they venerated the
mummified bodies of their ancestors by placing them
on display for an extended period before burial. Perhaps
they petitioned the mummies for blessings during their
daily lives. Later South American cultures like the Incas
revered their desiccated ancestor mummies (natural
mummification). For the Inca the dried bodies of their
ancestors were considered Huacas or deities that had the
power to provide fertility, good crops, and happiness.
The Inca brought food and drink to the dead and
included the mummies in their religious celebrations.
For the Incas and the Chinchorros, the mummies linked
the real world with the spiritual world.
The Chinchorros did not vanish after their artificial
mummification disappeared about 1700 BCE. On the
contrary, their descendants continued to thrive along
the Pacific coast, with increased social and political
complexity. However, for most areas, after 1500 BCE,
the dead were buried in a flexed or seated position, and
became natural mummies by the desiccating action of
the desert. Post-Chinchorro cultures developed and
took advantage of new technologies such as agricul-
ture, weaving, ceramics, and metallurgy, and now the
dead were furnished with paraphernalia related to these
achievements. Thus, from the numerous grave goods
accompanying the dead, it can be seen that post-
Chinchorro people also had powerful spiritual concerns
about death and the afterlife.
References
Allison, M. Chile’s Ancient Mummies. Natural History 10
(1985): 75–81.
Arriaza, B. Beyond Death: The Chinchorro Mummies of
Ancient Chile. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution
Press, 1995.
Aufderheide, A., I. Muñoz, and B. Arriaza. Seven Chinchorro
Mummies and the Prehistory of Northern Chile. American
Journal of Physical Anthropology 91 (1993): 189–201.
Bittmann, B. Revision del problema Chinchorro. Chungara
9 (1982): 46–79.
Munı̄śvara
K. V. S ARMA
.
Munīśvara (b. 1603), son of Ranganātha, was born into
a family of reputed astronomers of several generations,
who had migrated from their original home on the
banks of river Godāvarī in the south to Varanasi in the
north of India. Munīśvara’s paternal uncle, Kr.s.n.a
Daivajña, was patronized by the Mughal emperor
Jehangir, who ruled from Delhi (1605–1628). Elevat-
ing references by Munīśvara to Shahjehan, who
succeeded Jehangir as emperor in 1628, and casting
the horoscope of the time of Shahjehan’s coronation are
pointers to the continued royal patronage enjoyed by
Munīśvara’s family. In his commentary on the Līlāvatī,
Munīśvara states that another name of his was
Viśveśvara.

Munīśvara was a prolific writer, on both mathemat-
ics and astronomy, and wrote both original works and
commentaries. The Siddhāntasārvabhauma, written in
1646, is his major work on astronomy. In 12 chapters,
of which nine chapters constituted Part I, the work dealt
with the subjects of a normal textbook. In Part II, the
work dealt with the armillary sphere, astronomical
instruments, and astronomical queries. He also com-
posed a commentary on the work called Āśayaprakā-
śinī, which is dated 1650. On mathematics, Munīśvara
has two works: Pāt. īsāra and Gan.itaprakāśa. He was
an admirer of Bhāskara II. His commentaries on
Bhāskara’s Siddhāntaśiroman.i, entitled Marīcī, and
on Līlāvatī, entitled Nisr.s.t. ārthadūtī, are justly famous
for their exhaustiveness, lucidity, and citations from
earlier authors. He also commented on the Pratodayan-
tra or Cābukayantra, a short work on an astronomical
instrument used for the ascertainment of the time of the
day, by Gan.eśa Daivajña.
Munīśvara had professional detractors whose views
.
differed from his. One was Ranganātha, author of the
. Sanskrit Series, 1943.
manual Siddhāntacūd.amani (AD 1640), who, in a short
. .
work called Bhangīvibhangī, criticized Munīśvara’s
Bhan.gī (Winding) method of computing true planets.
. Hindu University, 1964.
This work was refuted by Munīśvara in his Bhan-
.
gīvibhang ī -khan.d.ana. Another was Ekanātha, an
astronomer of Maharashtra origin, settled in Varanasi,
who seems to have passed strictures on Munīśvara’s
exposition of three verses on declension (krānti) in
. Calcutta: Positional Astronomy Centre, India Meterologi-
Bhāskara’s Siddhāntaśiromani. Munīśvara refuted
Ekanātha’s criticism and established his views in a
short work entitled Ekanātha-mukhabhañjana (A Slap
in the Face of Ekanātha).
Though Munīśvara accepted Islamic trigonometry as
an aid to studies in astronomy, he severely contradicted
the theory of precession advocated by Kamalākara,
Munīśvara 1715
.
against which Ranganātha wrote a work entitled Loha-
gola-khan.d.ana, which Munīśvara’s cousin Gadādhara
refuted in his Loha-golasamarthana (Refutation of the
Loha-gola).
Characteristics that cannot be missed in Munīśvara’s
writings are the lucidity, chaste language, and the
elegant style in which they are couched.
See also: ▶Mathematics in India, ▶Astronomy in
India, ▶Precession of the Equinoxes, ▶Kamalākara,
▶Bhāskara II
References
Primary Sources
Siddhāntasārvabhauma of Munīśvara. Ed. Mitha Lal Ojha.
Varanasi: Sampurnanand Sanskrit University, 1978.
Siddhāntaśiroman.i of Bhāskara with the Commentary Marīcī
of Munīśvara. Ed. Muralidhara Jha. Benares: E. J. Lazarus
and Co., 1917.
Siddhāntaśiroman.i of Bhāskara with the Commentary Marīcī
of Munīśvara. Ed. Dattatreya Apte. Poona: Anandasrama
Siddhāntaśiroman.i of Bhāskara with the Commentary Marīcī
of Munīśvara. Ed. Kedardatta Joshi. Varanasi: Banaras
Secondary Sources
Dikshit, S. B. Bhāratiya Jyotish Śāstra (History of Indian
Astronomy). Trans. R. V. Vaidya. Pt. II: History of
Astronomy During the Siddhantic and Modern Periods.
M
cal Department, 1981.
.
Dvivedi, Sudhakara. Gan.aka Tarangin.ī or Lives of Hindu
Astronomers. Ed. Padmakara Dvivedi. Benares: Jyotish
Prakash Press, 1933.
Pingree, David. Census of the Exact Sciences in Sanskrit.
Series A, Vol. 4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical
Society, 1981.