Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind

It didn’t disturb the Sumerians that their script was ill-suited for writing poetry. They didn’t invent it in order to copy spoken language, but rather to do things that spoken language failed at. There were some cultures, such as those of the pre-Columbian Andes, which used only partial scripts throughout their entire histories, unfazed by their scripts’ limitations and feeling no need for a full version. Andean script was very different from its Sumerian counterpart. In fact, it was so different that many people would argue it wasn’t a script at all. It was not written on clay tablets or pieces of paper. Rather, it was written by tying knots on colourful cords called quipus. Each quipu consisted of many cords of different colours, made of wool or cotton. On each cord, several knots were tied in different places. A single quipu could contain hundreds of cords and thousands of knots. By combining different knots on different cords with different colours, it was possible to record large amounts of mathematical data relating to, for example, tax collection and property ownership.²

For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, quipus were essential to the business of cities, kingdoms and empires.³ They reached their full potential under the Inca Empire, which ruled 10–12 million people and covered today’s Peru, Ecuador and Bolivia, as well as chunks of Chile, Argentina and Colombia. Thanks to quipus, the Incas could save and process large amounts of data, without which they would not have been able to maintain the complex administrative machinery that an empire of that size requires.

In fact, quipus were so effective and accurate that in the early years following the Spanish conquest of South America, the Spaniards themselves employed quipus in the work of administering their new empire. The problem was that the Spaniards did not themselves know how to record and read quipus, making them dependent on local professionals. The continent’s new rulers realised that this placed them in a tenuous position – the native quipu experts could easily mislead and cheat their overlords. So once Spain’s dominion was more firmly established, quipus were phased out and the new empire’s records were kept entirely in Latin script and numerals. Very few quipus survived the Spanish occupation, and most of those remaining are undecipherable, since, unfortunately, the art of reading quipus has been lost.

The Wonders of Bureaucracy

The Mesopotamians eventually started to want to write down things other than monotonous mathematical data. Between 3000 BC and 2500 BC more and more signs were added to the Sumerian system, gradually transforming it into a full script that we today call cuneiform. By 2500 BC, kings were using cuneiform to issue decrees, priests were using it to record oracles, and less exalted citizens were using it to write personal letters. At roughly the same time, Egyptians developed another full script known as hieroglyphics. Other full scripts were developed in China around 1200 BC and in Central America around 1000–500 BC.

From these initial centres, full scripts spread far and wide, taking on various new forms and novel tasks. People began to write poetry, history books, romances, dramas, prophecies and cookbooks. Yet writing’s most important task continued to be the storage of reams of mathematical data, and that task remained the prerogative of partial script. The Hebrew Bible, the Greek Iliad, the Hindu Mahabharata and the Buddhist Tipitika all began as oral works. For many generations they were transmitted orally and would have lived on even had writing never been invented. But tax registries and complex bureaucracies were born together with partial script, and the two remain inexorably linked to this day like Siamese twins – think of the cryptic entries in computerised data bases and spreadsheets.

As more and more things were written, and particularly as administrative archives grew to huge proportions, new problems appeared. Information stored in a persons brain is easy to retrieve. My brain stores billions of bits of data, yet I can quickly, almost instantaneously, recall the name of Italy’s capital, immediately afterwards recollect what I did on 11 September 2001, and then reconstruct the route leading from my house to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Exactly how the brain does it remains a mystery, but we all know that the brain’s retrieval system is amazingly efficient, except when you are trying to remember where you put your car keys.

How, though, do you find and retrieve information stored on quipu cords or clay tablets? If you have just ten tablets or a hundred tablets, it’s not a problem. But what if you have accumulated thousands of them, as did one of Hammurabi’s contemporaries, King Zimrilim of Mari?