Trade expeditions usually departed Basra’s port of al-Ubullah in September or October, when the seas were still calm. Sailing down the Shatt al-Arab, they entered the Gulf.
https://t.co/kUh2thwBNq
Larger ships proceeded directly down the coast. But because of difficulties navigating the currents in the Shatt al-Arab, goods were often loaded onto smaller boats for the voyage to Siraf on the desolate Persian coast, where they were transferred to larger ocean-going vessels.
Although the Persian Gulf was calm at this time of year, the sailing could still be hazardous: there were lots of shallows, reefs, and above all pirates.
Bahrain and Qatar (pictured) were traditional pirate nests, poised to set upon ships that foundered on the sandbars along the Arabian coast.
Once clear of the Strait of Hormuz, the expedition’s next port of call was Muscat, on the Omani coast. The combination of natural water sources and an ideal natural harbor made this a prosperous little town on an otherwise arid coast.
In the second half of November, they crossed the Arabian Sea to India with the winter monsoon. This is a drier and calmer wind that blows out of the northeast—very different from the wet and stormy summer monsoon that sailors from Egypt took to India.
Sailing on a broad reach, the winds would take them to the Indian port of Quilon (Kollam) within a month. There they would purchase pepper and spices, as well as teak wood to repair the hulls of their ships.
They might also have stopped at the Laccadives along the way, where abundant palm groves provided material for other repairs. These resemble the many small islands where Sinbad was shipwrecked.
The same weather patterns which make good sailing in the Arabian Sea generated cyclones in the Bay of Bengal, so the crews had to wait at least a couple weeks until the end of December to resume their voyage.
They might spend that time trading on the Malabar Coast or cross over to Sri Lanka (which they called Serendib) to purchase its famed rubies and sapphires, panned from the floodplains in the southwest of the island.
(This is where Sinbad wandered into an underground river that was lined with precious stones.)
At the beginning of January, they set a course due east to the Malay Peninsula, a voyage of about a month. After stopping at Kalah Bar (probably modern Klang, near Kuala Lumpur), they passed through the Strait of Malacca.
They might stop along the way at the Nicobar Islands to take on water and food and make repairs. These or the neighboring Andamans could be the islands inhabited by “naked savages” where Sinbad’s third voyage was shipwrecked by a storm—perhaps they set sail from India too early?
They might stop at Sumatra or Java to trade incense, ivory, and other goods from the western half of the Indian Ocean. Otherwise, they timed their departure from Kalah Bar to catch the South China Sea spring monsoon, which was best sailed in April or May.
They took on water at Tioman Island and again at Redang Island, before crossing the Bay of Siam to “Sanf”—likely the Cham Kingdom of southern Vietnam, perhaps the three villages named Thắng near Ho Chi Minh City.
If sailing directly from Kalah Bar, this took a month.
From there it was another month sailing through the “Gates of China”, the hazardous Paracel Islands, to Khanfu (Guangzhou). Regardless of when ships arrived, their goods were impounded until the summer trading fair, when they were released minus a 30% import tax.
Merchants loaded up on silk, camphor, spices, and other precious cargoes over the summer, before sailing back to the Malacca Strait with the northeast monsoon in the last three months of the year.
The timing worked that they could continue on across the Bay of Bengal in January.
In Kollam they would offload some Chinese goods and purchase teak, which was in high demand for rich merchants’ houses in Basra and elsewhere—Sindbad’s mansion in Baghdad was probably made from teak.
In April, merchants departed India on the southwestern monsoon and reach Basra by summer, over a year and a half after their departure.
It’s a testament to how lucrative the China trade was that merchants endured a more than 20,000 km round trip by sea.
This trade flourished during the peak of two great empires: the Abbasids in the west, the Tang in the east. Many subsidiary routes also became integrated into this massive Indian Ocean trade system.
But around 878 a Chinese rebel named Huang Chou sacked Guangzhou, killing all the foreign merchants and seizing their goods.
This coincided with the Zanj revolt in southern Iraq, followed not much longer by the conquest of Baghdad by the Buyids.
https://t.co/EXrSeR2XoX
This reduced but did not end the trade. Merchants continued to sail shorter round trips between Iraq or Egypt and India, India and Malaya, the Spice Islands and China, etc. These trade networks were at once integrated and decentralized—even political fracturing could not undo it.
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Ottoman borders in the 15th century looked a lot like Byzantium during its ascent: for similar geographic reasons they faced an ongoing state of war along their eastern frontier. But once they turned their full attention to the problem, they solved it much more dramatically.🧵
Anatolia was the Ottomans’ base of power, where they welded together the Turkic beyliks that formed in the wake of Byzantine retreat. This was a gradual process, and by the 15th c. several retained varying degrees of independence.
One of these was the Karamanids in southern Anatolia, who often tried to expand this during periods of Ottoman weakness or disunity. One of these attempts came in 1444, when the so-called Crusade of Varna was attacking their Balkan possessions.
Quotes are from a superb pair of essays by @Scholars_Stage, Luttwak's book on Byzantium gives a similar misreading of their strategic culture (but cast in a positive light). In truth, the Byzantines were very eager to fight, diplomacy and bribes were only used as stop-gaps when occupied on another front, and the caution advised by their military manuals was tactical and operational—not strategic.
@Scholars_Stage On the first point, it was a matter of simple geography. They campaigned aggressively whenever threatened, but their two primary theaters were separated by an enormous distance.
The caution urged on frontier commanders by the manuals (e.g. On Skirmishing) has to be interpreted in light of the larger strategic picture. Prematurely forcing a battle risked leaving all of Anatolia exposed before the imperial army could mobilize.
When the Seljuks arrived in the Middle East, they played a very similar role to the Franks in Dark Age Europe: protectors of an enfeebled religious authority and the enforcers of orthodoxy.🧵
The Franks who expanded into Gaul in the 6th century were unique among the barbarian kingdoms of Western Europe. Their king Clovis converted to Nicene Christianity, aligning himself with the surviving elite of the post-Roman West.
This stood in contrast to the Visigoths of Spain, Burgundians of southeast Gaul, Ostrogoths of Italy, and Vandals of North Africa, all of whom practiced Arianism and remained aloof of their subject populations.
It took a decade for a 17th-century financial crisis to travel from Spain to China.
The Spanish Crown suffered a pair of fiscal disasters in 1627-28 which eventually forced it to cut silver exports to the Far East, hammering a Ming China already teetering on the precipice.
The flood of New World silver into Asian markets in the 1500s crushed the value of metal currency, but also supercharged trade as new markets were opened for exports. The effect was the same from Syria to China.
To start with, one thing he gets right is that the classical Greeks deprecated the value of individual skill at arms—if anything, that would detract from their willingness to hold the line. Here’s a wonderful passage from the Spartan poet Tyrtaeus, who is mentioned:
Maintaining formation—παρ᾿ ἀλλήλοισι μένοντες—is seen as the chief martial virtue. So how did they learn to do it?
Let’s look at the quote from Laches. Nicias suggests that young men should prepare for war by training at arms.
Easy to underestimate how thorough the breakdown of a centralized system can be. To put it in modern perspective, here's what it takes just to get the right 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 for the lasers in lithography machines used to etch the most advanced microchips (from "Chip War")...
That's a staggering amount of material, intellectual, and economic infrastructure required just to sustain one part of a very complicated process. Sustaining that infrastructure depends in turn on maintaining the process. If any one of several highly-centralized nodes is disrupted for any length of time, it becomes disproportionately more expensive and difficult to get it back online.
Systems are resilient and can recover from freak catastrophes. But anything that is likely to majorly disrupt one node is bound to introduce many other complications. Just as a hypothetical: a war over Taiwan that takes out TSMC, which manufactures 90% of advanced chips...