David and Solomon: In Search of the Bible's Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western Tradition

by Finkelstein, Israel

  This is another case of circular argumentation, in which the biblical text serves as the primary evidence that its own historical reportage is true. We have repeatedly mentioned the lack of any archaeological evidence for extensive literacy in Judah until the late eighth century BCE. Now we must ask another question: on the basis of what we know about the general archaeological situation in Jerusalem, does the “Court History” speak with a tenth-century voice? Do the descriptions of David’s wars and building projects mesh with the archaeological reality of that era? Are the dynastic intrigues that play such a major role in the “Court History” conceivable in David’s time?

  AN ABSENCE OF EVIDENCE

  The answer is certainly negative. First, with regard to the physical background, there is little evidence in Jerusalem of any impressive tenth-century BCE royal constructions or, for that matter, much construction of any kind. Although it is possible that some structures of Davidic or Solomonic Jerusalem may have been destroyed or buried under the massive platform of Herod’s Temple, the evidence of great royal expansion elsewhere in the area of the City of David is nonexistent. The three main monuments that have been associated with the events of David’s reign—Warren’s shaft (identified by some as the water shaft mentioned in connection with David’s conquest of Jerusalem in 2 Samuel 5:8); the Stepped Stone Structure (proposed as the Millo mentioned in connection with David’s rebuilding of Jerusalem in 2 Samuel 5:9); and the tombs of the kings of Judah (the rock cuttings identified by some as remains of the royal tombs of the Davidic dynasty)—have nothing to do with tenth-century BCE building efforts and hardly provide conclusive independent proof of the biblical narrative.*

  The suggestion of some scholars that “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence” can be easily countered when we consider the general picture. Over a century of excavations in the City of David have produced surprisingly meager remains from the late sixteenth to mid–eighth centuries BCE. They amount to no more than a few walls and a modest quantity of pottery sherds, mostly found in erosion debris. The situation has been found to be the same at every excavated site in Jerusalem. The suggestion that substantial tenth-century BCE building remains did exist in Jerusalem but were obliterated by erosion or massive building activity in later generations is simply untenable, since impressive structures from both the earlier Middle Bronze Age (c. 2000–1550 BCE) and the later Iron Age II (c. 750–586 BCE) have survived.

  The evidence clearly suggests that tenth-century Jerusalem was a small highland village that controlled a sparsely settled hinterland. If it had been the capital of a great kingdom with the wherewithal to muster tens of thousands of soldiers, collect tribute from vassals, and maintain garrisons in Aram Damascus and Edom (as the biblical narrative informs us it did), one would expect the presence of administrative buildings and storehouses, even outside the royal compound at the summit of the ridge. One would also expect to see changes in the villages of Judah—from which a significant portion of David’s armies were presumably mobilized and which would stand to benefit at least indirectly from the kingdom’s great wealth. Yet there is not the slightest evidence of any change in the landscape of Judah until the following century. The population remained low and the villages modest and few in number throughout the tenth century BCE.

  And what of David’s sweeping conquests described in great detail in 2 Samuel 8, 10, and 12:26–29? If the descriptions of these wars and conquests are reliable, there should be evidence of violent military destructions in the area of his enlarged realm. Indeed in the early days of biblical archaeology, that is precisely what many scholars believed they had found. At sites throughout the areas of David’s supposed military expansion—first and foremost along the coast and in the northern valleys—virtually every destruction level that could be vaguely dated to David’s time was ascribed to his conquests, especially since these destruction layers usually marked the transition from a Philistine or a Canaanite city to a new material culture identified as “Israelite.”

  Thus at the lowland site of Tell Qasile, a Philistine settlement located within the boundaries of modern Tel Aviv, the excavator Amihai Mazar declared, “The violent destruction of the flourishing Stratum X…at the beginning of the 10th century B.C., was part of a series of destructions in various parts of the country,” most probably caused by “an Israelite invasion under King David.” Likewise, the Canaanite city-state of Megiddo, in the Jezreel Valley in the north, was thought to provide another example for the sweeping Davidic conquests. The Iron I city, still featuring Canaanite material culture, was conventionally dated to the eleventh century BCE. It came to an end in a conflagration so intense that it baked the mudbricks of its various buildings and covered the floors with a deep layer of collapsed upper-story beams, smashed artifacts, and ash. The Israeli archaeologist Yigael Yadin, who excavated at Megiddo in the 1960s, interpreted this as evidence of a Canaanite city “completely destroyed, probably by David,” and then replaced by an Israelite city of the time of Solomon.

  But all these images were the result of that familiar kind of circular reasoning—using the biblical narrative as the basis for archaeological interpretation and then using the interpreted remains as proof of the Bible’s historical accuracy. The evidence of destruction at Tell Qasile, Megiddo, and other sites seemed, at that time, to fit the biblical story, but it is clear today that the archaeological proof of the conquests of David was illusory. We now know from new excavations and reanalysis of pottery assemblages, architectural observations, and radiocarbon dating that Philistine life in the southern coastal plain and Canaanite life in the northern valleys continued uninterrupted well into the tenth century BCE. The wave of destruction that had previously been dated to around 1000 BCE and attributed to the expansion of the united monarchy in the days of King David actually came later, by almost a century.

  So if we take all the evidence together and again ask if the biblical “Court History” of David is historically appropriate for the tenth century BCE, the answer would have to be no. There is no clear archaeological evidence for Jerusalem’s emergence at that time as the capital of a powerful empire with elaborate administrative institutions and a scribal tradition capable of composing such an elaborate chronicle of events.

  Nor are the destructions long ascribed to David’s wars of conquest a secure basis for historical reconstruction. The few thousand farmers and herders of Judah—a number including women, children, and old people—could probably provide no more than a few hundred able-bodied fighting men, which is hardly enough for any military adventure beyond a local raid. A major social and political transformation—the emergence of a state with its various offices and institutions—would have to occur before the events of the “Court History” could possibly ring true. Such a transformation can indeed be traced in the archaeological record, but as we will suggest, it occurred first in the northern highlands rather than Judah—and only with the passage of several generations after the presumed reigns of both David and Solomon.

  THE FIRST ISRAELITE ROYAL COURT

  Even as village life in the highlands of Judah continued without significant alteration through the tenth and early ninth centuries BCE, major transformations were under way in the highlands to the north. Despite the abandonment of the cluster of settlements in the highlands of Benjamin (significantly, sites connected with the area of the biblical stories of Saul), archaeology hints at a steady growth in the population and agricultural capacity of the hundreds of villages scattered through the northern highlands that would profoundly influence the course of political developments.

  In contrast to the situation in the Judahite highlands, the north witnessed the steady expansion of the area of settlement—both in the small, fertile valleys in the heart of the highlands and in the marginal areas to the east and west. New settlements on the eastern desert fringe hint at the growth of village-based herding; the establishment of villages on the rocky western slopes facing the Mediterranean suggests the renewal of terrace a
griculture for vineyards and olive groves after a hiatus of hundreds of years. Larger villages emerged as regional centers and trade with the Phoenician coast was revived.

  Then, suddenly, much more elaborate administrative centers appeared at important sites throughout the region, the largest being the vast compound built at Samaria in the northwestern hills. A huge podium, requiring massive leveling and filling operations, was constructed over the site of a former village. The podium was surrounded by an impressive casemate wall, with rooms that were probably used for storage. Other elaborate, specialized structures were constructed within the large area enclosed by the walls. The most noteworthy was a palace beautifully built of ashlar blocks, the largest structure ever found in Iron Age Israel. This imposing compound—and the others like it that were constructed at selected sites throughout the northern valleys—served both as administrative centers and impressive monuments to the power of their occupants. In anthropological terms, it is clear what was happening: the society of the northern highlands was undergoing a transformation from a dispersed village culture to the centralized regimentation of a full-blown state.

  When we say “full-blown state,” we must be clear. Earlier we characterized tenth-century BCE Judah as a “chiefdom,” namely a loose network of more or less equal communities (both settled and pastoral) bound in largely ceremonial alliance with a strongman or chief and his family. The power of the chief was limited to dealing with neighboring peoples, mustering local forces to counter local threats and incursions, and cultivating and preserving the kin alliances of the chiefdom itself. The economic and military capacity of a chiefdom was severely limited; the key to its very survival was stability. That seems to have been the initial situation with the establishment of the earliest Iron Age villages in the north as well. But when the population grew and expanded into new areas—specializing in certain crops and animal products—exchanges grew increasingly complex.

  To trade grain for olives, and wool for grain and wine, required permanent structures for administration and storage; thus regional centers emerged. The final stage in this transformation was the creation of a state—or a “kingdom”—to impose a centralized system of control. It is only at this level of organization that large professional armies, foreign conquests, and extensive building projects are possible, due to the existence of a specialized core of state officials and laborers, who are themselves supported by the surplus of the region’s agricultural and commercial wealth. It is a system with great power and many obligations for its inhabitants.

  These are precisely the developments that we can see in the archaeological evidence of the emergence of a center at Samaria in the early ninth century BCE. And for the first time, we can associate archaeological evidence with identifiable biblical characters: the Omride dynasty of the kingdom of Israel, which ruled, according to the biblical and ancient Near Eastern chronology, between 884 and 842 BCE, several generations after the reported time of David and Solomon.

  According to 1 Kings 16:15–24, Omri, the dynasty’s founder, came to power in a military coup d’etat and established his capital on the hill of Samaria, from which he and his son Ahab ruled a vast kingdom. We have supporting testimony from independent, outside sources that confirms the main outlines of this biblical account. This report is substantiated by a number of contemporary inscriptions—the earliest extrabiblical records ever discovered to directly document the existence of biblical characters.

  The Assyrians indeed refer to the northern kingdom as “the House of Omri,” confirming the biblical testimony that he was the founder of the dynasty and the capital. And in the monolith inscription of the Assyrian king Shalmaneser III, we read of a great coalition of kingdoms that confronted the Assyrian armies at the battle of Qarqar on the Orontes River in Syria in 853 BCE. One of the most powerful participants in this coalition was a ruler referred to as “Ahab the Israelite,” who contributed two thousand chariots and ten thousand foot soldiers to the anti-Assyrian force. Even if this royal text is typically exaggerated, it still suggests an entirely new scale of military power possessed by the kingdom of Israel. And at the height of their power, the Omrides apparently extended their rule eastward into Transjordan and north into Syria as well.

  The famous Mesha inscription, inscribed on a black stone monument, was discovered in the nineteenth century in Dibon, the ancient capital of Moab (in southern Transjordan). The text records that “Omri, king of Israel, humbled Moab many days.” It goes on to note that the Israelite occupation of the area continued under Omri’s son and included the construction of two new strongholds in the Moabite territory. Furthermore, the expansion of the Omrides into Syria is referred to in the Tel Dan inscription, in which Hazael, king of Aram Damascus, reports that Israel had formerly occupied parts of his land.* From both archaeological and historical perspectives, we can therefore recognize the emergence of the first true kingdom of Israel in the early ninth century BCE. Could it be just a coincidence that the Omride struggle for centralized power, its lavish building projects, its royal court, its advanced professional army, and its sweeping foreign conquests in Transjordan and Syria call to mind the unforgettable stage scenery of David’s “Court History”?

  THE RISE OF JUDAH

  In the first half of the ninth century BCE, Israel was one of the most powerful states in the region. The question that immediately comes to mind is, if the Omrides used their military might to expand in the northeast and east, why didn’t they expand toward the south, in the direction of Judah? The biblical narrative, with its descriptions of the might and prestige of David and Solomon’s great kingdom, portrays the later struggle between north and south as one of equals. But as we have seen, the evidence for any great empire under David is utterly lacking. All we can say is that material life went on much as before and the dynastic line in Jerusalem continued without interruption after the death of David. Solomon, Rehoboam, Abijam, and Asa are listed in the book of Kings as David’s successors and we have no independent evidence either to confirm or to challenge this sequence. But something else was happening, implied by the Bible and clearly suggested by the archaeological evidence. By the time of David’s great-great-great grandson Jehoshaphat (who reigned according to the biblical chronology from 870 to 846 BCE), Judah seems to have become a virtual vassal to the kingdom of Israel.

  Israel and Judah in the ninth century BCE

  The Bible reports that Jehoshaphat, a contemporary of Ahab, offered manpower and horses for the northern kingdom’s wars against the Arameans. He strengthened his relationship with the northern kingdom by arranging a diplomatic marriage: the Israelite princess Athaliah, sister or daughter of King Ahab, married Jehoram, the son of Jehoshaphat (2 Kings 8:18). The house of David in Jerusalem was now directly linked to (and apparently dominated by) the Israelite royalty of Samaria. In fact, we might suggest that this represented the north’s takeover by marriage of Judah. Thus in the ninth century BCE—nearly a century after the presumed time of David—we can finally point to the historical existence of a great united monarchy of Israel, stretching from Dan in the north to Beer-sheba in the south, with significant conquered territories in Syria and Transjordan. But this united monarchy—a real united monarchy—was ruled by the Omrides, not the Davidides, and its capital was Samaria, not Jerusalem.

  It is precisely at this time that the first archaeological signs of state formation are evident in Judah. Archaeological surveys have revealed that the number of scattered agricultural villages (though still modest) was steadily growing. In the Judahite lowlands, permanent centers of administration, controlling specific regions or specialized aspects of the economy, were first constructed in the ninth century BCE. In the rich grain-growing lands of the Shephelah in the west—the traditional breadbasket of Judah—two impressive citadels were constructed, requiring the organization of considerable labor, and were far more imposing in appearance than any previous settlements in that region in the Early Iron Age. At Lachish, excavations by British archaeolo
gists in the 1930s and a subsequent Israeli expedition directed by David Ussishkin revealed a massive podium that supported a fortified complex containing storerooms and a palace; at Beth-shemesh, slightly farther to the north, evidence of another massive construction effort has recently been uncovered by a Tel Aviv University team headed by Shlomo Bunimovitz and Zvi Lederman. It includes a system of massive fortifications and an elaborate subterranean water system that would enable the residents of this important site in the rich Sorek Valley to withstand a protracted siege.

  Even more telling is the sudden appearance of evidence for centralized administration in the Beer-sheba Valley, which had for centuries been the active route of overland trade between Transjordan and the Mediterranean coast. At both Arad, on the eastern end of the valley, and Tel Beer-sheba in the west, permanent fortresses were constructed in the ninth century BCE. They seem to represent an effort to take control over the trade routes that passed through the Beer-sheba Valley and to protect the southern borderlands of the kingdom. Was this achieved by the kings of Judah under the auspices of the Omrides? The story (in 1 Kings 22:48–49) of Jehoshaphat’s attempt to engage in southern trade with the help of the northern kingdom, even if grossly exaggerated and confused with later Red Sea trading efforts, may represent a vague echo of this period.

  And what of Jerusalem? Here too, the first signs of elaborate construction seem to appear in the ninth century BCE. Though the date of the famous Stepped Stone Structure has long been a matter of contention, it was clearly the support for a structure that must have been much more elaborate and impressive than the earlier buildings on the city’s southern edge. A close examination by the Dutch archaeologist Margreet Steiner of the datable potsherds retrieved from the mantle of the Stepped Stone Structure included red slipped and burnished types of the ninth century BCE.