
Why Star Trek Owes A Debt To Ancient Crete
The ruins of the ancient Minoan Palace at Knossos, Crete
A stone's throw from Heraklion's ancient city walls, a modern-day McDonald's stands at the crossroads of a busy urban thoroughfare here on the Greek island of Crete. Four thousand years ago, however, Crete was also a crossroads dominated by a mysterious and largely still poorly understood Bronze Age culture that predated classical Greece.
For those familiar with Star Trek: The Next Generation, it's hard not to compare Crete's ancient Minoans with the Ferengi, the fictional 24th century traders so savvy in dealing across space, time and civilizations.
Not only were the Minoans adept at trade, but they were likely well ahead of their time when it came to celestial navigation. It's even arguable that their celestial prowess paved the way for the same sort of stellar navigation still in use at sea and now even in space.
According to at least one researcher, the Minoans were using stellar navigation to trade with partners via all four cardinal points of the compass.
I hypothesize that the Minoans employed a form of sidereal navigation similar to traditional Polynesian techniques—using star paths as directional guides across the sea, Alessandro Berio, an independent archeoastronomer, who holds a masters in cultural astronomy from the University of Wales in the U.K., told me via email. This is supported by archeoastronomical evidence of Minoan palatial alignments toward the rising or setting points of key stars, corresponding to trade routes to major Bronze Age port cities across the eastern Mediterranean, he says.
In a new paper that Berio is preparing for journal submission, he argues that his most significant finding is the proposition that Arcturus—one of the brightest stars in the northern hemisphere—may have served as a primary navigational anchor in a Bronze Age sidereal system. That is, one that linked some of the most important cultural and political centers of the Aegean and the Mediterranean.
I argue that the palace of Malia—one of Crete's major Minoan complexes—had a deliberate alignment with the rising of Arcturus, guiding seafarers along a star path toward Miletus, the principal Minoan outpost on Asia Minor's Anatolian coast, says Berio.
Arcturus, the fourth brightest star in the night sky is an aging red giant only 36.6 light years away. It's also the brightest star in the northern constellation of Bootes, a constellation known to be used for navigation by the ancient Greeks.
Berio wonders whether Arcturus functioned as a celestial beacon across multiple cultural spheres—Minoan, Mycenaean, and Egyptian.
In a 2022 paper published in the journal Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, Berio argued that the Minoans aligned their palaces with the stars Spica, Castor, Betelgeuse, Markab and even Sirius to navigate on imaginary lines to all points around the Mediterranean, including the Greek mainland, Asia Minor, Cyprus, the northeastern Nile delta, and even further west along North Africa.
The Minoans were cosmopolitan people who traveled across the Mediterranean exporting olive oil, wine, cereals, textiles, and leather goods while importing precious materials like gold, silver, and ivory, Kostis Christakis, an archeologist and director of the Knossos Research Center of the British school at Athens, told me in his office on Crete.
The Minoans knew how to trade and produced various goods for the Egyptian, Levantine, and Cypriot markets, Sue Sherratt, an archeologist at the University of Sheffield in the U.K., told me via email. In the Early and Middle Bronze Ages silver from further north in the Aegean destined for the east may have been channeled through Crete, she says.
How did the Minoans use celestial navigation?
Similar to traditional Polynesian and Micronesian navigators, the Minoans may have mapped the rising and setting of stars to specific angles on the horizon, says Berio. By following these 'star paths'—linear constellations rising at known azimuths—and combining this with seasonal knowledge of winds and currents, they could reliably sail to distant ports across the Aegean and eastern Mediterranean and expand their trade network, he says.
Berio used OpenCPN, an open-source software, to plot likely Minoan navigation routes between two distant points. The correct altitude at which a star was visible on the horizon he determined by using Stellarium, a free software planetarium, as noted in his new paper. To mimic the naked eye observations of the Minoans, Berio limited the stars he plotted to only a magnitude of six.
To achieve this kind of navigational accuracy, the Minoans would have needed to calculate course angles across hundreds of kilometers of open sea; we don't know how they did it, says Berio. The possibility exists that they developed some form of proto-coordinate system, perhaps using celestial zenith stars for latitude, and/or comparing simultaneous lunar and solar eclipses for longitude, he says.
They likely first arrived on Crete from what is today southwest Anatolia in Asia Minor.
Even though this civilization has been dubbed Minoan, in truth, no one knows what they called themselves, much less what they called the island of Crete.
The myth of King Minos came later from Greek culture, but the Minoans were not Greek, says Christakis.
A model of the ancient Minoan palace at Creek as it may have looked around 1800 B.C. pictured here ... More inside the Heraklion Archeological Museum.
Yet the center of their society was clearly their palaces.
Used over six centuries from roughly 2000 B.C. until 1450 B.C., the Minoan palaces were the main administrative, economic, religious and ideological centers of Crete, says Christakis.
Standing atop the ruins of the palace at Knossos, I'm surrounded by semi-arid, wooded mountains that envelop this complicated maze. It's hard to imagine what it must have looked like in its full glory, but clearly this was a very sophisticated civilization that predated classical Greece by some five hundred years.
On the muggy afternoon I was there, a real-life peacock perched on a much-degraded stone wall seemed to perfectly fit this place in time. My first thought was that great ancestors of this peafowl must have paraded their plumage when the palace itself was in all its splendor; delighting the residents with their haunting calls.
A peacock on an ancient ledge at the Palace of Knossos, Crete
At present, we simply know too little about the Minoans to determine whether they had a more philosophical and esoteric side, but like Star Trek's Ferengi, they were all about accumulating wealth. The upper echelons of their society, at least, seem to live in high style.
As for their celestial prowess?
The biggest enigma is whether we're seeing evidence of lost mathematical knowledge, or a navigational system so embodied in ritual, architecture, and oral memory that it never needed to be written down, says Berio. What puzzles me most is how the Minoans could have measured the angle of a sea route between two distant locations with such precision — especially without known instruments or a documented system of trigonometry, he says.
The author inside part of the Palace at Knossos
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Forbes
12 hours ago
- Forbes
Why Star Trek Owes A Debt To Ancient Crete
The ruins of the ancient Minoan Palace at Knossos, Crete A stone's throw from Heraklion's ancient city walls, a modern-day McDonald's stands at the crossroads of a busy urban thoroughfare here on the Greek island of Crete. Four thousand years ago, however, Crete was also a crossroads dominated by a mysterious and largely still poorly understood Bronze Age culture that predated classical Greece. For those familiar with Star Trek: The Next Generation, it's hard not to compare Crete's ancient Minoans with the Ferengi, the fictional 24th century traders so savvy in dealing across space, time and civilizations. Not only were the Minoans adept at trade, but they were likely well ahead of their time when it came to celestial navigation. It's even arguable that their celestial prowess paved the way for the same sort of stellar navigation still in use at sea and now even in space. According to at least one researcher, the Minoans were using stellar navigation to trade with partners via all four cardinal points of the compass. I hypothesize that the Minoans employed a form of sidereal navigation similar to traditional Polynesian techniques—using star paths as directional guides across the sea, Alessandro Berio, an independent archeoastronomer, who holds a masters in cultural astronomy from the University of Wales in the U.K., told me via email. This is supported by archeoastronomical evidence of Minoan palatial alignments toward the rising or setting points of key stars, corresponding to trade routes to major Bronze Age port cities across the eastern Mediterranean, he says. In a new paper that Berio is preparing for journal submission, he argues that his most significant finding is the proposition that Arcturus—one of the brightest stars in the northern hemisphere—may have served as a primary navigational anchor in a Bronze Age sidereal system. That is, one that linked some of the most important cultural and political centers of the Aegean and the Mediterranean. I argue that the palace of Malia—one of Crete's major Minoan complexes—had a deliberate alignment with the rising of Arcturus, guiding seafarers along a star path toward Miletus, the principal Minoan outpost on Asia Minor's Anatolian coast, says Berio. Arcturus, the fourth brightest star in the night sky is an aging red giant only 36.6 light years away. It's also the brightest star in the northern constellation of Bootes, a constellation known to be used for navigation by the ancient Greeks. Berio wonders whether Arcturus functioned as a celestial beacon across multiple cultural spheres—Minoan, Mycenaean, and Egyptian. In a 2022 paper published in the journal Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, Berio argued that the Minoans aligned their palaces with the stars Spica, Castor, Betelgeuse, Markab and even Sirius to navigate on imaginary lines to all points around the Mediterranean, including the Greek mainland, Asia Minor, Cyprus, the northeastern Nile delta, and even further west along North Africa. The Minoans were cosmopolitan people who traveled across the Mediterranean exporting olive oil, wine, cereals, textiles, and leather goods while importing precious materials like gold, silver, and ivory, Kostis Christakis, an archeologist and director of the Knossos Research Center of the British school at Athens, told me in his office on Crete. The Minoans knew how to trade and produced various goods for the Egyptian, Levantine, and Cypriot markets, Sue Sherratt, an archeologist at the University of Sheffield in the U.K., told me via email. In the Early and Middle Bronze Ages silver from further north in the Aegean destined for the east may have been channeled through Crete, she says. How did the Minoans use celestial navigation? Similar to traditional Polynesian and Micronesian navigators, the Minoans may have mapped the rising and setting of stars to specific angles on the horizon, says Berio. By following these 'star paths'—linear constellations rising at known azimuths—and combining this with seasonal knowledge of winds and currents, they could reliably sail to distant ports across the Aegean and eastern Mediterranean and expand their trade network, he says. Berio used OpenCPN, an open-source software, to plot likely Minoan navigation routes between two distant points. The correct altitude at which a star was visible on the horizon he determined by using Stellarium, a free software planetarium, as noted in his new paper. To mimic the naked eye observations of the Minoans, Berio limited the stars he plotted to only a magnitude of six. To achieve this kind of navigational accuracy, the Minoans would have needed to calculate course angles across hundreds of kilometers of open sea; we don't know how they did it, says Berio. The possibility exists that they developed some form of proto-coordinate system, perhaps using celestial zenith stars for latitude, and/or comparing simultaneous lunar and solar eclipses for longitude, he says. They likely first arrived on Crete from what is today southwest Anatolia in Asia Minor. Even though this civilization has been dubbed Minoan, in truth, no one knows what they called themselves, much less what they called the island of Crete. The myth of King Minos came later from Greek culture, but the Minoans were not Greek, says Christakis. A model of the ancient Minoan palace at Creek as it may have looked around 1800 B.C. pictured here ... More inside the Heraklion Archeological Museum. Yet the center of their society was clearly their palaces. Used over six centuries from roughly 2000 B.C. until 1450 B.C., the Minoan palaces were the main administrative, economic, religious and ideological centers of Crete, says Christakis. Standing atop the ruins of the palace at Knossos, I'm surrounded by semi-arid, wooded mountains that envelop this complicated maze. It's hard to imagine what it must have looked like in its full glory, but clearly this was a very sophisticated civilization that predated classical Greece by some five hundred years. On the muggy afternoon I was there, a real-life peacock perched on a much-degraded stone wall seemed to perfectly fit this place in time. My first thought was that great ancestors of this peafowl must have paraded their plumage when the palace itself was in all its splendor; delighting the residents with their haunting calls. A peacock on an ancient ledge at the Palace of Knossos, Crete At present, we simply know too little about the Minoans to determine whether they had a more philosophical and esoteric side, but like Star Trek's Ferengi, they were all about accumulating wealth. The upper echelons of their society, at least, seem to live in high style. As for their celestial prowess? The biggest enigma is whether we're seeing evidence of lost mathematical knowledge, or a navigational system so embodied in ritual, architecture, and oral memory that it never needed to be written down, says Berio. What puzzles me most is how the Minoans could have measured the angle of a sea route between two distant locations with such precision — especially without known instruments or a documented system of trigonometry, he says. The author inside part of the Palace at Knossos
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
The Dreadful Policies Halting Archeological Discoveries
Thanks to the creative application of new technologies, the 2020s are quietly shaping up to be a golden age of archaeology. In 2023, then-21-year-old Luke Farritor (now with the Department of Government Efficiency) combined machine‑learning pattern recognition with high‑resolution CT scans to decipher the first word from the Herculaneum scrolls—a Roman library charred by Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Fully decrypting the library could ultimately double the surviving corpus of Ancient Greek and Roman literature—an unprecedented bonanza for classical scholarship. Analysis of ancient DNA has resolved long-debated questions about human migrations. After sequencing hundreds of Bronze Age human genomes, David Reich's research team at Harvard positively identified southwest Russia as the geographical origin of the Indo-European languages, while other genomic work has dated Homo sapiens-Neanderthal interbreeding to 47,000 years ago, several millennia prior to earlier best guesses. Fossilized human footprints in White Sands, New Mexico, have been conclusively dated to about 23,000 years ago—proof that people were in North America during the last Ice Age and forcing scholars to rethink when and how humans first crossed into the New World. Lidar has recently revealed massive ancient cities under jungle canopies, from the Mayan platform of Aguada Fénix in Mexico—larger than the Great Pyramid of Giza—to mysterious urban centers in the ancient Amazon. These developments—whether driven by artificial intelligence, the decryption of ancient genomics, or airborne lasers—promise to momentously expand society's understanding of humanity's past. Notably absent from this bounty, however, are the fruits of traditional, physical, Indiana Jones-style archaeology. The world of bits, as has often been the case these days, is leaving the world of atoms in the dust. While the storied bits over atoms problem is a complicated one, legal mechanisms are straightforwardly to blame for throttling archeological discovery. The case of Italian antiquities policy is paradigmatic. Since the 1930s, Italy—along with Greece, Turkey, and Egypt—has vested ownership of all antiquities in the state. Commerce in freshly unearthed artifacts is outlawed, and unauthorized excavation is punishable by hefty fines and sometimes prison time. Even using a metal detector requires a permit. Edward Luttwak, a historian and author of The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire, explains that in Italy, "if you find something, you report it to the authorities. The authorities take it, goodbye. Most often, what they take from you, they put in a depot, a basement, a warehouse, and it never even gets shown." This is the unfortunate lot of the fortunate discoverer of an Italian artifact. Report a Roman coin? It'll be confiscated. Find an Etruscan urn while planting olives? Your land will be turned into an archaeological site the government may never have time to excavate. It's unsurprising, then, that Italians frequently don't report their findings to the government. Many artifacts end up on the black market (in 2023, Italy's Carabinieri Art Squad seized nearly 70,000 illegally excavated artifacts), or are even simply destroyed or hidden away. Private hoarding is an especially pernicious problem: When "illegally excavated" (read: most) Italian artifacts are privately held in people's houses, they are lost both to scholarship and public view. "You could fill twice the museums that exist in Italy from what people have hidden in their houses," says Luttwak, "which they wouldn't hide if you could report [them] to the authorities like they do in England." The British model provides a striking contrast. Since the 1996 Treasure Act, British law has required that significant archaeological finds be reported. Instead of simply seizing them, if the state wishes to retain an item, it must compensate the finder and landowner at its full market value. To capture the far larger universe of objects that fall outside the law's narrow legal definition of "treasure," the state-sponsored Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) established a voluntary nationwide program through which average Britons can log any find, whether or not the state intends to acquire it, into an open scientific database. As of 2020, over 1 million objects have been logged in PAS. According to Michael Lewis, head of Portable Antiquities and Treasure at the British Museum, over 90 percent of PAS-recorded items are found by metal detectorists on cultivated land, indicating how the scheme has turned what was once seen as a threat into a fountainhead of archaeological data. Thanks to these policies, Britain has been increasingly outpacing Italy in Roman archaeology despite its relatively modest classical history, as seen in this viral map of the provenance of hoards of Roman coins. Notice the sheer quantity of Roman coin discoveries reported in the U.K., far surpassing those in Italy. This disparity isn't explained by Roman Britain being richer than Roman Italy (quite the opposite), but by modern Britain recognizing and leveraging incentives to bring history out of occultation. The Great Stagnation of physical archaeology is a choice. The failure of policymakers to get the basics right—to make physical archaeology worth anyone's time—renders the richest landscapes fallow. Luttwak's attention is on one such landscape: the confluence of the Busento and Crati rivers on the edge of Cosenza, Calabria. Contemporary accounts record that in 410 A.D. the Visigoth chieftain Alaric—fresh from sacking Rome—was buried beneath the temporarily diverted river along with the treasures of the Eternal City. "Alaric's treasure is located in the southern part of the city of Cosenza," says Luttwak. "It was documented by an eyewitness." Alaric took "gold and silver objects…statues, and all kinds of things—possibly even the Temple menorah….When Alaric died in Cosenza, he got as the king one third of the treasure [to be] buried with him." "It could be found," explains Luttwak, "with hovering metal detectors, because he was buried with his weapons, too." Alaric's hoard—and maybe Judaism's most iconic physical symbol—should be discoverable today with an aerial anomaly survey and some clever hydraulics. The technology is ready; the incentives are not. Change the rules, and the payoff could be extraordinary. The post The Dreadful Policies Halting Archeological Discoveries appeared first on


Washington Post
3 days ago
- Washington Post
Our languages have more in common than you might think
In ancient India, the most powerful god was known as 'sky father,' or in the Sanskrit language Dyaus pita. Sound it out. Can you see where this is going? In Greece, his equivalent was Zeus pater; in Rome, Jupiter. English speakers have always been used to tracing the etymologies of their words back to the classical languages of Europe, but the suggestion, in the late 18th century, that there were also clear and consistent features in common with languages spoken much farther to the east was an astonishing and exhilarating one.